Hannibal's home, Baltimore

[sharp_as_knives]

After the rehearsal, Hannibal headed home and brought up a copy of the script on his tablet. Really, a play? What had he been thinking?

Well, that he'd have two fairly dangerous people in his debt, naturally. But still. He poured himself a nice glass of wine, put on some music, took off his jacket and shoes, and sat down with his tablet to go over both the script and the latest local news.



[OOC: expecting one, open to calls or whatnot!]

Comments

[sharp_as_knives]

"That is a very good way of looking at it," Hannibal noted. "We may not have their skills, but we have others." He smirked a little. "Let me assure you, you are a much better cook than Isabelle will ever be." He shrugged. "I don't know what skills Alec might have. But while it makes them different, I would certainly argue that it makes them no better."

[myownface]

"He can shoot a bow and arrow," Sparkle mumbled. "He was teaching me how."

And he'd been impressed that a mundane like Sparks could pick up on it so quickly as to actually hit the target on his first day learning, too. Not the bullseye, the target.

"I can't see myself up on the roof of the dorms during an invasion, picking off the monster-of-the-week like a badly-dressed guy in a superhero ensemble movie, though."

[sharp_as_knives]

"Perhaps not," Hannibal allowed. "But archery is a skill that can be learned; if you had practiced all your life, you might be as good as he." He shrugged. "Or not. Or you might be better. Lack of opportunity doesn't make you less worthy of respect."

"Regardless," he raised an eyebrow at Sparkle, "I like to think you're intelligent enough to stay out of the way of any monsters. At least those that won't be defeated by a pricing gun."