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]

"Wine comes from grapes," Hannibal pointed out. "Do all wines taste the same?"

Wine would be very nice about now. Where was the pitcher of mimosa?

[furnaceface]

//Well, no, of course not. I just...// Jono groped around impotently for words. This clearly wasn't working out in his favour. Dammit, Karla. //Never really had the opportunity to learn the difference back when I could just up and do so at my own leisure, is all.//

[glacial_queen]

"Keep back-pedaling, Jono," Karla muttered from behind her glass.

[sharp_as_knives]

"Hence the need for a tasting," Hannibal answered. "Then you will know the difference."

[furnaceface]

//Then I'll know the difference,// Jono agreed, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. //Makes sense enough.//

He so wasn't going to survive the experience without hitting overload, was he?