Gourmet suite at the Arms Hotel, Sunday

[sharp_as_knives]

This was the most crowded Hannibal could recall being in quite some time. There were several children in the master bedroom, one of whom was apparently his, her other father in another bed in his room (yes, thank you, Angela, but they were not a couple here, and you could stop looking at them like that), and Jono's friends on the pull-out couch in the living room.

On the bright side, it was a built-in audience for breakfast. So Hannibal was brewing some excellent coffee while he worked as quietly as possible at cinnamon polenta pancakes, sweet potato & pork belly hash, rosemary grapefruit, thick-cut bacon, and toast from some very good, dense bread he had.

And mimosas for the adults. He had a feeling they still might need a drink.


[OOC: open to those who stayed the night and anyone with a need to drop by!]

Comments

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal nodded. "Consider it an offer rather than a threat, then," he said a bit more kindly. "You needn't go through everything on your own. After all," he added wryly, "we do share a daughter; it would seem to be my duty to help out."

[furnaceface]

Jono might have twitched a little at that reminder, yes.

//I think if that went without saying for everyone I've had a potential future child with over the years, I'd have collected quite the harem by now,// he noted, wryly. //But... the help is appreciated. And... I suppose sooner is better than later.//

Because this was Jono. 'Later' was synonymous with 'never.'

[sharp_as_knives]

"If I'm not wrong, everyone you have potential future children with is a friend of yours, and you have collected them," Hannibal pointed out. "Are there any who wouldn't help if you asked them?"

Because friends helped you move.

Hannibal was even a real friend.

[furnaceface]

//None that I can think of, offhand,// Jono admitted, a touch grudgingly. //And several have even offered. So, I know. No excuse. No more putting it off.//

A pause.

//I'm going to have to re-stock the kitchen, aren't I?//

[sharp_as_knives]

"Yes," Hannibal answered firmly. "Though if you like, I would be happy to take care of that for you." It would be self-preservation, Jono. If Hannibal ever came over, he didn't want to deal with your idea of stocking.

[furnaceface]

//Please?// Oh, the desperate pleading eyes that Jono was giving him, now. //I wound up just... not wanting to deal with it, while I was moving. I donated most of the pots and pans, and gave the food away. Not that there was terribly much in the first place. Most of what was there, I inherited from flatmates as they moved away.//

Like he knew how to stock a kitchen.

[sharp_as_knives]

At least that was a more rational sort of not wanting to deal. Hannibal nodded. "It would be my pleasure. I can find you staples and things that will keep frozen, so you'll have them when you need them."

[furnaceface]

//I would appreciate that very much,// Jono replied with a little nod. //Even I end up needing to eat on occasion, I should've known it was a stupid move to get rid of everything entirely.//

[sharp_as_knives]

"Trauma rarely is rational," Hannibal answered, waving it off. Besides, he could buy Jono better supplies than he'd probably get for himself.

What? Chances were he'd end up cooking there at some point.

[furnaceface]

//Life is rarely rational,// Jono allowed, nodding and stuffing his hands into his pockets. //Sometimes I just fool myself into thinking I know what I'm doing with it, is all.//

[sharp_as_knives]

"So long as you fool yourself successfully, it's probably the best to be hoped for," Hannibal answered with a chuckle.