Dr Hannibal Lecter

Hannibal parked at the causeway and walked to his house. It wasn't raining on the island, but his clothes had been thoroughly soaked, and the trip from his house hadn't let them dry much. His hair hung wetly on his forehead. His nose and the cuts on his face had stopped bleeding, leaving tracks and scabs over his face where they hadn't been washed clean in the rain. Under his jacket, his shirt clung to him with blood as much as water. His ribs ached where he'd hit the floor.

He'd all but forgotten that Jono and Karla would be waiting to taste-test for the party, until he saw the lights on and stopped on the lawn, the ridiculous flamingos sleeping around him.

( mentions of Hannibal canon )

[OOC: Preplayed with the lovely furnaceface and glacial_queen; continued in comments. The fact Jono and Karla were there and Hannibal came back a bit worse for wear is public; anything else is NFB, please!]

The FBI and the local press were scampering about like ants whose hill had been disturbed. Hannibal supposed one presumed-dead agent returned to life, a convicted murderer gone missing, and a nearly convicted insane man proved innocent would do that.

For the moment, though, he'd taken a break from watching the amusing chaos in order to ready one of his guest rooms, stock his beer, and make a hearty and relatively simple - for him - dinner. He was rather looking forward to hearing what Sparkle had thought of the drama workshops.


[OOC: for one, but open for phone or whatnot; NFB due to distance!]