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sharp_as_knivesJono was upstairs, but Hannibal had gone down to the main rooms of The Boards a little earlier, to make certain everything was in place. At least their decorations and such had survived this time - amnesia was a bit less damaging than mutant-hunting cyborgs.
The last-minute flowers were...acceptable. A bit unusual, which Hannibal approved of, even if they didn't all precisely match. The food was, yet again, good, and Hannibal was going to owe Eliot favors for his patience. The cake was somewhat less extravagant than the previous ones, but it would do.
If everything simply went to plan, that would be plenty.
[OOC: All murder accusations and the fact that Jack's FBI are NFB! The basic details of the fight are fine, though.
Preplayed with the wonderful![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
furnaceface, vdistinctive, and crimson_sister!]
The last-minute flowers were...acceptable. A bit unusual, which Hannibal approved of, even if they didn't all precisely match. The food was, yet again, good, and Hannibal was going to owe Eliot favors for his patience. The cake was somewhat less extravagant than the previous ones, but it would do.
If everything simply went to plan, that would be plenty.
| Hannibal shook his head as he crossed the auditorium on his way to the dressing rooms. His tie, and his corsage, and - A body crashed into him from behind. He turned as best he could, and went sprawling on his side instead of his front, getting just a glimpse of his attacker before a fist drove into his jaw. He got his legs between them and pushed, his attacker's body crashing into a row of chairs and giving Hannibal time enough to stand. "Hello, Jack. I see you got the invitation." Head still spinning a bit, Hannibal reached back to pull himself up to the stage. Jack caught his leg the second before he landed, yanking hard and crashing him to the floor off-balance. His fist drove into Hannibal's stomach, then his chest, and he coughed painfully as he felt his ribs crack. Not enough breath for a decent hit, he struck out with stiff fingers, not managing to gouge his eye out, but making him flinch back enough Hannibal could get his hands around his throat. |
|
| Another wedding, and Sparkle had agreed to do the music for this attempt, too. He still had the playlist and all, but there was some last-minute setup he needed to do, making sure that he knew his way around the equipment up in the sound booth. It was some pretty expensive stuff, and while he had a passing familiarity with soundboards like this after that theatre camp Hannibal had sent him to once upon a time, he didn't want to find out that there was some unexpected snag and the slider he thought was the volume was actually the balance or something, during the first dance. So when there came a crash from down below, down on the stage, Sparkle had jumped damn near three feet in the air and wheeled around to peer down from the booth at what the hell was happening. And what was happening was... apparently some guy was trying to kill Doctor Lecter. Sparkle's first impulse was to duck out of the booth and trip down through the seating to try to stop him, but there was something in the visceral, animal way they were gouging and grabbing at one another that made him freeze up. He had his blaster on him. After Hannibal's first wedding attempt, there was no way in hell he was going to come to another one of these things unarmed. And knives. He had his knives. And he didn't manage to reach for any of them, he just stood there, frozen in place and horrified at what he was seeing down below. He wouldn't have had a clear shot. He didn't know who the hell that man was or what he wanted. He was scared and couldn't get his brain to function and the best that he could do was duck down behind the soundboard and try to do something more than panic, and quietly curse himself for it the entire time. So, that, then. Until he could get his brain working. Until he could make his legs move. Until he could get the phantom snap-hiss sound to stop ringing in his ears long enough to crawl back into the present moment. |
|
| Lucille had arrived at The Boards early, having offered to help where it was needed. She had been arranging the flowers when the sudden sound of fighting nearly made her drop a vase. She clung to it as she spun around, and as she saw what was happening, her face turned white with anger. Her first instinct was to throw the vase at the attacker, which was what she did. Seconds later she realized that it was a bad idea, as she could just as well end up hitting Dr Lecter. Luckily it turned out that throwing vases was not her forte, and it hit the wall far from the two men fighting, not even causing a threat by broken china. Her mind was racing, trying to come up with another way to help, but she couldn't think of anything that wouldn't risk making things worse, so she stood there, frozen in place, flinching at the sound of ribs breaking. |
|
| The crash of the vase distracted Jack for just a moment, and Hannibal flipped him around, crawling out from under him long enough to take a few shallow breaths and hurl a chair at him. He didn't need to kill Jack, only to keep him at bay; he had no doubt reinforcements were on their way. "I was truly sorry about Bella, Jack," he said. "Did you receive the flowers? Miss Éponine does her best, but the portals can be tricky." Jack's answer was a snarl and another leap at him. Hannibal was prepared this time, and managed to get mostly out of his way, though he'd probably have a bruised cheekbone to add to the injuries. He tripped Jack, and the man went down, but grabbed him along the way, and it was back to fists. Next time, he was getting trousers with deep pockets instead of keeping the knife in his jacket. |
|
| Jono had been getting ready. He'd been using the apartment upstairs, his old apartment, to get dressed and do some last-minute anxious pacing around before what he hoped would be a third-time's-the-charm situation. When Hannibal's ribs cracked, he had almost doubled over, himself. Maybe it was bad luck to see one another before the wedding, but superstition said nothing about habitually keeping loose psionic tabs on the other groom in cases of extreme but well-founded paranoia, and in this particular situation, he was apparently right to do so. Eyes glowing white-hot, he took the steps down from the apartment two at a time, and didn't so much as stop to demand an explanation before throwing himself bodily at the man attacking Hannibal, all flames and fury. |
|
| Jack joined his hands and punched down at Jono's back even as they flew back; he registered flames from the side and tried to roll away from them, grimacing. | |
| Jono stumbled forward, face screwed up in pain at the hit he took to the back, though that was hardly enough to keep him from wheeling around to glare at the man who had hit him, sparks at the corners of his eyes. He straightened up, then. Stood his full height, tall and lean and illuminated by blazing flame. And then he stalked toward the man with purpose, hands balled into fists, fire licking up around him, melting the front out of his shirt, highlighting him in silhouette. //Excuse you,// he snarled, his voice low and furious, cutting into Jack's mind. //We're trying to have a wedding here.// |
|
| Jack's eyes widened, and he pulled his gun, pointing it at Jono before the words in his mind even registered. "A wedding? To him?" He pointed one hand at Hannibal before returning it to the gun. "Do you know who he is? What he's done?" |
|
| Jono stopped in his tracks, staring dispassionately at the gun. Right. Jack was not endearing himself to Jonothon at all, this way. //Enough that you've taken it upon yourself to be judge, jury, and executioner all in one, it would seem.// |
|
| "Someone has to be," Jack growled. "Might as well be me." | |
| //And not, say, an actual judge? An actual jury? Fairly sure there are laws about that sort of thing. I mean, I'm British. I might be misremembering. America is all cowboys and vigilante justice, innit?// This from a guy who still wore an X on occasion. |
|
| "Jack doesn't want justice," Hannibal said, "he wants revenge. But I gave your wife back to you, Jack," Hannibal reminded him. "Gave you back your trainee as well. I let Will go. You attacked me and I let you live. Would you kill me for deceiving you? Or is it your own powerlessness you seek to overcome, and you think this will help?" | |
| The gun swung in Hannibal's direction. "I'm supposed to thank you for letting one person go, after all the ones you killed?" Jack asked, incredulous. "The ones you ate?" | |
| "It would be polite," Hannibal said. "The one doesn't negate the other. Will did much the same as I - tell me, have you killed him yet, Jack?" | |
| Oh. Oh no Jack here did not. Pulling a gun on Jono himself was one thing. Pointing it at Hannibal? That was another matter entirely. And Jono wasn't going to give Jack the opportunity to pull the trigger, wasn't even going to give him any warning before sending a gout of concussive flame toward that gun, aiming to disarm him. //No guns,// he said, eyes glowing red and narrowing dangerously as he moved to put himself between Jack and the weapon. //House rules.// Unless they were full of blanks and in a script, as opposed to being pointed toward Hannibal. //And breaking those rules would be terribly rude.// |
|
| Oh, Jono. Hannibal really did adore you. Despite his injuries, he was smiling now, and quite content to watch. | |
| The gun was wrenched from Jack's hand, and he turned back to Jono, startled and wary. "Look, I don't know who or what you are, but Hannibal Lecter cannot be trusted. Do you even know all the things that he's done? The victims and bodies he's left behind, and the ones he hasn't?" |
|
| //He hasn't left half as many bodies behind as I have,// Jono replied, eyes narrowed, putting one foot on the gun and sliding it across the stage toward Hannibal. All the better for putting himself between Jack and both things he was trying to keep him away from. //Believe me, mate, you don't want to try my patience today.// There were dark whispers crawling through his mind, angry ones, picking apart the man in front of him. Some part of him was horrified at all the ways he could think of offhand to just kill Jack and be done with it. That same part of him was well aware of where those ideas had come from, a mind apart from his mind, woven in so thoroughly these days that it was sometimes hard to remember where Jonothon ended, and Weapon X's monster began. //Do you really want to find out what I am, preak? Pull another gun while there are students in the room. I dare you.// In times like this, it was apparent that Legion's pocket universe had left a bit of an imprint on him, too. |
|
| Hannibal had no quarrels with any of the versions of Jono; they each had their appeal. But getting Jono too worked up might give Jack an advantage. For all the good it would likely do him. Still, Hannibal sent approving and calm waves of emotion his way. He couldn't quite block out the pain, but hopefully the rest would help. |
|
| Jono blinked, and then turned a grateful glance Hannibal's way. The calm and approval were unexpected, not something he typically received in situations like these, and they'd caught him the slightest bit off-guard. Funny how it was calm that threw him, and not the gun that had been pointing at him a minute ago. |
|
| Unfortunately, Jack took that moment of distraction to make a dive for his gun, attempting to sweep Jono's legs out from under him to get to it. | |
| Hannibal was facepalming at you so hard, Jono. | |
| You distracted him, Hannibal! This was on you! Which was why, much as he hated to do it, he was throwing up a wall between himself and any incoming psionic influence right around the same time he hit the floor. The tumble downward wasn't all for nothing, though. There was no way in hell Jack was getting that gun if Jono had anything to say about it. Jono and another blast of flame, that was, just as much heat as concussive force this time, sweeping for Jack's legs in turn. Wrong move, Jack. You'd just unleashed a very itchy inner hit-man who was seriously not in the mood, today. |
|
| The Boards had some limited cold storage available, but Eliot had still needed to some of his last minute prep at the diner across the street. So he wasn't aware of a fight going on until he walked in the building, when it was well under way. He paused for a moment, standing in the lobby listening. Two people, one large and trained for law enforcement, the other -- well. Jono. That fire had a very distinctive sound to it. He rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "For chrissake, just elope already." He set the food he was carrying down carefully, cracked his knuckles, then went barreling into the theater to see what the deal was this time, and how he could help. |
|
| By the time Eliot arrived on the scene, there was no small amount of chaos to take in. Vases were shattered, flowers trampled. Jono and the man he was still fighting with were both battered and bleeding, though judging by the scorch marks on the new man's clothes, Jono was managing to gain the upper hand. And, so help him, he was furious enough to hold it. You came into his theatre, Jack, and tried to kill somebody? Not just anybody, at that, but Hannibal? He could see trying to arrest him. Hell, he wouldn't have blamed you had you tried. But coming up from behind and attacking with intent to kill? No. Fuck no. There was a line and Jono was drawing it right there. He rocked backwards as a desperate fist struck at him through the flame, pummeling him in the ribs from the inside. He countered with a concussive blast of flame that took the offending arm and heaved it backwards with a sickening crunching sound. And if ever there was an angry stalk that suggested that somebody was tempted to rip that arm off the rest of the way to beat a man to death with it, that would be what Jono was doing then, quite literally radiating fury. |
|
| Yeah, Eliot was quite familiar with that expression, even worn on half a face. That expression tended to end up the last thing people saw. And as much as their nuptials had well-since become a running joke by now, Eliot was pretty sure that neither Jono nor Hannibal was going to be into adding murder at anyone's hands to the ceremony. Not certain, mind you. But sure enough to go wading in and grab for the back of Jono's collar. Not that it'd do anything about the fact that the guy could shoot psychic fire or anything, but it should be enough to at least get his attention. "Your fiance ain't lookin' too hot, Starsmore. Might want to check on him." |
|
| Jono didn't dare whirl on Eliot, much as he wanted to. He wasn't going to turn his back on Jack until the man was down and out, one way or another. And it would be so bloody easy to end him, too. He was one of the last survivors of Fortress X, somewhere in that muddied mind of his. He was Weapon X, somewhere near the fore. And he didn't leave a job like this unfinished. That wasn't what he'd been programmed to do. He tensed, though. The hand and the voice had gotten that much out of him, at the very least, and a low, dangerous snarl that was more echo and tangible rage than actual voice. //This preak hurt him. I don't plan on giving him another chance to.// |
|
| "My hero," Hannibal said. He couldn't speak terribly loudly, but he was confident Jono would hear him. His voice was slightly amused and mostly affectionate. "But you can protect me from over here, too. Do you really want to kill him?" There was no judgement there, just curiosity. Hannibal had nothing against Jono killing someone in his defense, so long as Jono truly wanted it, but he had his doubts that was the case. |
|
| Did he? It seemed like he did. He was standing over the man, and everything was fire and rage, and he had no reason not to. Some quiet part of him that he'd shoved away into the back of his mind was railing against the idea, but there was so much of him that was fine tuned to be an efficient, relentless killer now, he hadn't been paying that part of his mind all that much attention. Jono narrowed his eyes, forced himself to relax somewhat, and then finally turned a glance to Hannibal. Then to Eliot. //Can you keep an eye on this one for a moment?// They were both right. Hannibal was injured. He could do him more good over there. |
|
Good thing Hannibal got through to Jono; Eliot wasn't really looking to have to try to physically restrain a guy who's default mode was on fire. He looked over at Jack and snorted. "Yeah, man. Not a problem." If the man did more than collect himself a little, he'd punch him unconscious. No problem at all. |
|
| //Good. Thank you.// He stepped to the side, and then stepped back, not turning his back on Jack until he was another few steps away. A few steps more, and he was bending over to collect the gun he'd knocked out of Jack's hand earlier, pausing to put the safety on before continuing over to Hannibal to crouch down beside him. //You,// he muttered, checking him over to assess the extent of the damage done to him, //are grounded.// |
|
| Jono and Hannibal could handle each other. (And if they couldn't they shouldn't be getting married anyway.) Eliot stood over Jack and tilted his head, looking down at the man. Definitely law enforcement. FBI, if Eliot didn't miss his guess. Eliot nudged him with his boot. "Man are you out of your depth." |
|
| Hannibal smiled and put his hand on the side of Jono's face, stroking his cheek and flames. "I doubt I'll be going very far for a while, yes." | |
| //Damn right you aren't,// Jono muttered, half-closing his eyes and leaning his face into Hannibal's hand. //And you're sleeping on the sofa tonight.// Grounded. |
|
| "We have several serviceable guest rooms," Hannibal pointed out. He wrapped his arm around Jono's shoulders and got his legs underneath himself. | |
| //Yes,// Jono agreed, letting Hannibal put as much weight onto him as he needed, //but you're grounded.// And everything that implied. |
|
| Hannibal chuckled, which unfortunately hurt. "I'm sleeping with the frog downstairs?" | |
| //You are,// Jono growled. //After I get you to the clinic and they piece you back together, you get to share a room with Hendrix. People will be jealous, I'm sure.// He'd stop being cranky eventually. In this present moment, not so much. |
|
| Hannibal grimaced. "I can do a better job myself than they can," he pointed out. "I won't need stitches or a cast, just a hot bath and some bandages and rest." | |
| Jono shot Hannibal a look that could best be described as 'I am not in the mood right now and do not fuck with me,' but he relented all the same. //Fine,// he muttered, //do it yourself. And later we can have a chat about how your friend knew how to find you. Fair?// There was still too much Weapon X swimming around in his head. Too much Fortress X along the edges, making him inclined to jump at shadows. Jono was in a mood. |
|
| Lucille had kept a distance while the fight was going on, knowing she would be of little use. Now she hovered in the background, considering how she could be of help. Ice on those bruises would be needed, and that she could easily find here. "Dr Lecter? This might help." She knelt next to him, placing the ice bucket and a few napkins next to her. "Mr Starsmore?" |
|
| //Thank you, Lucille,// Jono replied, forcing a little more calm into his voice, trying to edge out the brittle bite that was still skirting razors around the inside of his brain. //Are you alright? He didn't hurt you at all before I showed up?// God, he was tired. |
|
| "No, he didn't," Lucille said. "He took no interest in me." She wrapped ice into one of the napkins. "Are you injured too?" Jono had seemed quite able to take down the attacker, but that didn't mean he wasn't. |
|
| //It's nothing,// Jono replied, waving a hand and shaking his head. //A few bruises. Nothing that'll put my life in danger or anything like that. But I appreciate your concern.// He was sort of a walking corpse with a gaping chasm of fire for a chest, after all. Sure, he could get hurt. But it would take a lot more than an angry man with a solid right hook to do any lasting damage. |
|
| "Thank you," Hannibal smiled at Lucille and took the napkin, applying it to the side of his face. He assessed her, realizing she must have heard the fight. Knowing what he did, he hardly thought he had to worry, but he was still pleased. |
|
| Lucille smiled a little, offering him another ice-filled napkin. No, he didn't have to worry, quite the opposite. There were so many questions she wanted to ask him, all of which would have to wait, but she had been relieved that he would understand her, impressed too. "What a horrible man." |
|
| "I'm not terribly fond of him at the moment," Hannibal said, "but Jack does have his charms. Unfortunately subtlety isn't one of them." | |
[OOC: All murder accusations and the fact that Jack's FBI are NFB! The basic details of the fight are fine, though.
Preplayed with the wonderful
furnaceface, vdistinctive, and crimson_sister!]
In the Lobby
Date: 2016-08-25 02:23 am (UTC)The thing was just that the acoustics in this place were fantastic. Especially up in the sound booth, where he had to be able to hear everything going on down on the stage in order to do his job.
The thing was that he had heard a lot more than he'd ever wanted to hear.
The thing was that it had taken him longer than he'd care to admit to get his legs working under him again, once the sounds of fighting stopped. Now... now he just wanted to be sick. And that showed in every aspect of how he carried himself when he eventually peered out of the sound booth again and tried to sneak out of the theatre without drawing too much attention to himself.
Fortunately, this didn't take long. Sparkle hadn't made it past the lobby.
"So askin' if you're okay seems like a dumb question," he observed. "Anything I can do to help?"
"Dunno," he managed, shuddering and pulling his knees up to his chest, hugging on to them a little more tightly. "Think I'm gonna puke."
That basically summed up a lot of it, right there.
"... Thanks."
God, he felt like he could crawl into that bucket, himself. It wasn't even like some guy kicking the shit out of Hannibal and then pulling a gun on his fiance was even the most horrifying thing he had seen this summer.
"So that... happened."
The puke. The fight. The other stuff. A lot of things had happened, there.
Re: In the Lobby
Date: 2016-08-25 02:25 am (UTC)The boat would sink. Those two weren't going to manage to get officially married until they were standing in front of an Elvis impersonator in Vegas.
Sparkle was way too normal for this. That was what he was choosing to focus on, at least until his head stopped swimming.
"That's what fucking Spotify playlists were invented for."
Less because of trauma than just being done making the same feast over and over, but still.
He set the bucket down and kind of nudged it away with his foot, clutching the water bottle close.
"God, I'm so... tired of... all of this." He waved a vague hand. "Doctor Lecter's only been good to me, and now there's some cop who wants him dead."
And if the cop wasn't lying, Sparkle couldn't even much blame him.
Eliot, stop.
"He's safe now, though. Jono's got him, and the cop's down for the count. Nobody died here today. It ain't much of a consolation, I know. But some days you gotta take what you can get."
He drew in a shaky breath, and then took another drink of water.
"Came close, didn't it? There was a gun for a bit, and burning. I can still smell the burning." He shuddered. "Hate that smell."
It usually wasn't controlled psychic fire, at least.
"That the first time you watched a fight involvin' a gun?" he asked. "Or was it all just a little much for you, after this summer?"
He listened to radio. He didn't know the details, and he wasn't going to ask for them unless Sparkle wanted to share. But he knew the kid had been having a rough time of it.
Re: In the Lobby
Date: 2016-08-25 02:27 am (UTC)He wasn't sure if talking about the earlier events of the summer would be easier or harder than thinking too hard about today. Hell. Might as well give it a whirl.
"That second one," he replied in a mumble, "mostly. 'This summer' involved me being chained to a floor beside my best friend, waiting to be executed. Not a big fan of guns after that, I guess."
Or, funny enough, the smell of burning flesh. Lightsabers provided that one just as readily as some guy on fire.
"Ain't one for guns myself," he said, though his reason was basically the opposite of Sparkle's. "Would it help ya at all to learn how to disarm 'em? I mean, you couldn't've from where you were back there, but maybe for the future. . . ."
What with the week of captivity and all the other stuff that came before that exact moment. And the two days of slaughter that followed.
"... You don't mind?"
"Nah, not at all. Gun safety's an important thing to know."
'Gun safety' in this instance meaning 'gun dismantling into as many tiny pieces as you can afford to fit in before you have to punch someone again'.
Said the guy with a small blaster and two knives hidden on him somewhere under his clothes at almost all times, these days. Just in case. And the fashion knowhow to be able to pull it off without them being too obvious, at that.
Fandom had definitely done a number on him.
"... But yeah, it'd be good to know. For the future."
Re: In the Lobby
Date: 2016-08-25 02:28 am (UTC)"Of course. Place like this, you want to know enough about weapons to stay safe even if you ain't plannin' on using 'em. Apparently, you never know when someone's past is going to swing by and try to wreck things."
He would be making doubly sure tonight that his past wasn't likely to try to follow him home any time soon. Just in case.
Funny, he'd just been talking to Dante yesterday, in vague, wide strokes, about how Atton's had come to the island to bite him, once. And he was a little more than a week away from his one one year anniversary of running away to America forever and never looking back.
What a way to kick it off.
He lifted the water a little. And then glanced Eliot's way again.
"... And for everything you and your people did for mine, last year."
Talking about the past this way made him feel like maybe that was something that had to be said.
Eliot hadn't grown up in the system the way they had. His childhood wasn't perfect, but he'd at least had a steady home and a family. What he'd done in his adulthood was all his own damn fault.
"Look." Eliot stared at his hands for a moment before looking over at Sparkle. "I know you ain't had the best of luck with adult role models or whatever. But you ever need to talk, you know you can come find us, right? Any time."
Not the best luck with adult role models? Eliot, you had no idea, today.
"I'd like that," he said, another moment later. "I'm not really good at talking. Not when it matters. But that offer means a lot. Might even take you up on it sometime."
Re: In the Lobby
Date: 2016-08-25 02:29 am (UTC)"Fair 'nough." Eliot smiled. "Ain't always real good at that part, myself." Just ask Hardison. Or Kathy.
Or maybe not Kathy. Not just because she'd try to eat you, right now. Eliot took no small amount of responsibility for that one and considered her and Raven getting stuck back in her home dimension and most likely killed a personal failure.
"I ain't ever gonna ask ya to talk about things you don't want to talk about. You just wanna have a safe space to hang out and distract yourself, that's cool too. Bet Parker'd love to talk lockpicks with ya, if nothin' else."
"Sounds like fun," Sparkle decided, giving Eliot an actual little smile. "Yeah... I'll... maybe I'll do that. Thank you."
"I think I might scavenge some of the leftovers and get out of here," he replied, lifting his shoulders a little bit. "And, um, clean the bucket."
It was probably bad form to leave a puke bucket sitting around, after all.
"But mostly the 'get out of here' part. I'm all weddinged out for the day, I think."
In the Lobby...a little later
Date: 2016-08-25 02:30 am (UTC)Lucille sat down next to Sparkle, a glass and a bottle of brandy in her hands. "It calms the nerves." He looked like he needed that, and although Lucille didn't know him well, he had lent her knives during a previous failed wedding, so she would offer help in return if she could.
And what was the saying? Drink to forget?
Of course, the idiot of the week this week was FBI, with a pretty compelling reason to get up in arms.
But still.
"I fear I am not too much help in these situations. As you know." She smiled a little at Sparkle.
He was truly a brave soul. Who totally recognized that the cop could have ground him into paste in ten seconds flat.
Who had been angry and on fire, which, in fairness, was probably an understandable reason for a lot of people not familiar with Fandom's idea of normal to go pulling guns all willy-nilly.
Sparkle bit his lip, and then sipped at his brandy.
"You heard it all too?"
Re: In the Lobby...a little later
Date: 2016-08-25 02:31 am (UTC)She knew very well that wasn't the reaction expected of her though. She sipped her own brandy, then said: "I guess it was a little... shocking." She didn't sound particularly convincing.
He was trying not to believe it. But Starsmore's lack of reaction to the news wasn't exactly helping with that.
She had always felt that he understood her.
"It's just... a shock, I guess," he settled on. Because understatement seemed like a great thing to cling to, just then. "I mean, I don't even know the whole story. I'm holding out for that. I think. I owe him that much. But it's not one of those things you really... expect."
Especially not about one of the few adults that he'd always felt secure around.
But then, Atton had said something about snakes, once...
"How do you figure?"
"He has been like a father to both of us," Lucille said. "Do you really think he has deceived us in that?" She didn't expect Sparkle to understand the reasons for killing - Lucille's impression was that he wouldn't - but surely he must see that Dr Lecter still cared about him.
"He hasn't betrayed or deceived you."
Re: In the Lobby...a little later
Date: 2016-08-25 02:31 am (UTC)One that, in hindsight, didn't surprise him so much as it left him feeling nauseated.
"You're right," he said, softly. "He hasn't done that."
And most people he looked up to eventually did.
"I find that is what truly matters." She wasn't going to tell Sparkle how much what she had just learnt mattered to her as well. She picked up the bottle, and with a gesture offered to fill Sparkle's glass.
It had been a good call, Lucille. He was pretty sure he was going to need a lot more than that.
"I guess it's gonna have to," Sparkle agreed. "At least until I can talk to him about it."
After the Fight
Date: 2016-08-25 02:34 am (UTC)Hey, at least this one hadn't come after him.
Hannibal had been looked after and the few guests checked on -- and a hasty sign put up on the door informing any others planning to attend that the event was postponed. Which left Eliot and Jono to take care of the crasher.
"So." Eliot tilted his head. "What do you want to do with him?"
//Well, we could hand him over to the troopers,// he mused, //though he'd be out again thirty seconds after we walk back out the door. And there's no guarantee he wouldn't come back. But then, he knows what he's up against now.//
One homicidal flaming monster who appeared to function even without benefit of insides, for a start.
//I suppose we get him off the island, for now.// He glanced toward Eliot. //What are your feelings on dinosaurs?//
Except that the wildlife was much larger, and it was far less likely that Jack had any idea how to mitigate the dangers.
A few of them involved effectively lobotomizing the man. Jono of twenty minutes ago might've done it without hesitation. Jono now, with his wits more about him and less Weapon X programming battering at the inside of his skull, was going to go back to having lines drawn in the sand.
Jono had too much training for Eliot to assume he hadn't killed anyone before, but that didn't mean he'd want a death hanging over his wedding.
Assuming they ever managed one.
In fairness, those people had been threatening mutant kids using flamethrowers, so...
//I appreciate you stopping me,// Jono replied, after a moment's pause. //I try not to go that far unless there's a call for it. Today was terrible timing on his part.//
To say the least.
Re: After the Fight
Date: 2016-08-25 02:36 am (UTC)Yeah, there were going to be a lot of words with Hannibal after they dropped Jack here off.
Hannibal mostly wasn't an idiot, but you never knew. They'd been throwing the first set of invites pretty far and wide, at the very least.
Bearing that in mind, he supposed getting two or three invitations to the wedding of a man that he had a grudge against would push him to attempt homicide.
Or wait awhile and end up common-law married. That could work too.
He glanced back at Eliot.
//Carry him, make him hop, or call a rickshaw, do you suppose?//
Apparently Jack did not see the humour in the situation. His loss.
Eliot was aware of grown-ups who didn't have murderous enemies, but he was always mildly surprised when he met one.