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]

"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."