The Arms Hotel, Room 720, Saturday afternoon

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal would be cooking dinner for Alana, but his lunch guest was Sparkle (he assumed, since the boy hadn't dropped by for his keys), so he was sticking to more conventional and casual food.

So, Sparkle was getting grilled venison and pork sausage, Pumpkin potato puree, and brussels sprouts with kale, bacon, and chestnuts.

Plus a fairly stout beer that went nicely with it.

Sorry, Sparkle. You would have to manage to muddle through somehow.


[For the one mentioned, though anyone's welcome to knock on the door!]

Comments

[myownface]

"It's tempting," Sparkle admitted. "But I have to work tomorrow. Not that I think we'll be crawling with customers or anything..."

He glanced toward the table, and then gave Hannibal a smile that fell a little short of his eyes.

"Lunch smells pretty great," he added, making his way over to where Hannibal had indicated. "But I guess you didn't need me to tell you that, huh?"

[sharp_as_knives]

"Need it, no, but I never mind hearing it." Hannibal nodded. "Thank you." He gave Sparkle an only slightly pointed look. "As much as I know that I'm good at what I do, knowing that it's appreciated is always welcome. Especially from friends."

[myownface]

So help Sparkle, his smile became a little more genuine at that.

"It's appreciated and the timing is pretty good, too," Sparkle replied with a shrug. "I probably would've just... I dunno. Stayed in my room today and had Pop Tarts for lunch or something."

From his stash of non-perishables. The one he kept two drawers down from his socks.

[sharp_as_knives]

That was a definite grimace.

"In that case, I'm even more glad you could join me." He sat and dished out the food. "Nobody should be forced to eat Pop Tarts."

Because people, yes; Pop Tarts? Ew.

[myownface]

Excuse you, Hannibal. Pop Tarts were the mana of the lazy teenaged gods!

"I'm used to it," Sparkle replied with a shrug, trying not to edge into defensive mode and actually failing a little, today. "I mean, this is great. This is better than great. But sometimes there's a two-for-one coupon and the airmiles are good so your caregiver can maybe save up for a trip home for the holidays even though he never gets to because there are like six ungrateful shit teens that he has to stay there constantly to take care of so he hasn't even like seen his mother in years all for your sake, and that's what gets brought home and you deal with it. It's no..." He pointed at the venison. "It's no that, but you can live on it if you have to."

It was maybe not a great weekend for knocking Sparkle's old status quo.

[sharp_as_knives]

"And sometimes you hoard what you can under your bed, because you know the other children are likely to get you into trouble that keeps you from being permitted dinner."

Which might or might not be theoretical.

"Nevertheless, you can move beyond that. If you take comfort from Pop Tarts in your room, I may question your palate, but not your choice. But if you're eating them because you think you deserve no better, I will remind you that your caregiver chooses to care for you, and believes you to be worthy of that care. Also that you are very far from an 'ungrateful shit', or I would not be asking you here." He pointed at Sparkle. "And I expect you to remember that if you want to see the next opera."

[myownface]

Sparkle seriously had no idea what to do with a reprimand that could be summed up with 'stop that, you're not awful.' It was nearly a minute before he did more than just shrug his shoulders, staring down at his plate.

"It's just good to have food around, I guess," he grumbled, finally, because that was really the best he could do.

[sharp_as_knives]

"It is," Hannibal agreed. "You can take whatever's left back with you, if you like. And perhaps I'll have to teach you to make cured meats and dried fruits at the very least." They'd keep without refrigeration, if nothing else.

He poured them each a glass of beer, and paused to make an exaggerated face at Sparkle. "Pop Tarts?"

[myownface]

"They keep forever and they're flat, so you can store more of them," Sparkle replied, though his tone was less defensive now, and he was wearing a hint of a grin. "Plus, I like the sprinkles."

Some people would cling to childhood in any way that they possibly could. Forever.

[sharp_as_knives]

And some people had no desire to revisit it. Ever.

"Sprinkles." Hannibal shook his head. "Well, I bow to your clearly superior knowledge of the things. And as I have no intentions of eating them, I suppose it leaves more for you." He toasted him.

[myownface]

"Hey, you'll train a half-decent sense of taste into me eventually," Sparkle laughed, lifting his beer in turn. "But sometimes, a guy's just gotta appreciate where he comes from."

With Pop Tarts. And Kraft Dinner.

[sharp_as_knives]

"If you say so." Hannibal smiled. "So long as you appreciate yourself as well. You've only got a couple weeks if you want to see Tosca." He leaned forward. "Love, lust, revenge, torture..."

[myownface]

"You really know how to sell a bribe, you know that?" Sparkle was grinning all the same, thankful that he'd agreed to come to dinner, after all. "Okay, okay, I'll be good to myself. Maybe take tomorrow off work after all, lay low for a bit until the crowds disperse. It's not like the clothing store is gonna burn to the ground if I don't go in one day."

[sharp_as_knives]

"I get the feeling that around here, that's by no means assured," Hannibal answered wryly. "Still, it certainly shouldn't. And you should do whatever you need for yourself. No talking badly about yourself?"

[myownface]

"No talking badly about myself," Sparkle agreed, nodding a little. "Anyhow, I guess I'm kind of running out of shitty things to say. Besides, it's way more fun to talk crap about people who deserve it."

He knew a lot of people like that!

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal chuckled. "Well, that's not against the rules. Just be careful they don't hear you. Or that you can take them in a fight."

He was totally not joking about that part. You could tell, right?

[myownface]

"I'm usually pretty good at picking what fights I pick," Sparkle replied. "Except that one time."

But Atton had been talking shit about Sparkle's cat, and that was not to be allowed.

... Or that other time, when he'd been given a concussion by some jerk with a baseball bat through a mystery door in a Baltimore dance club.

... Or that other other time...

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal was going to have to get you a martial arts class or something, Sparkle. Or teach you dirtier ways to fight.

Meanwhile, he just shook his head. "Eat your food. And decide if you'd rather go Friday or Sunday, since I fully expect you to win this challenge again."