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

[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."