sharp_as_knives: (At home)
Hannibal woke in one of the guest bedrooms, stretched, and rubbed his face. The weekend slowly filtered back in, and he shook his head. Well, that was new.

Joni looked up at him and mewed, then attacked the foot Beethoven wasn't sleeping on. Then mewed again and pounced toward the door.

Apparently, locking himself (and the cats) in a room away from Jono was not going to be tolerated any longer.

"Yes, little one," he told her. He rubbed Beethoven's head and got nothing worse than a grumbly look as he extracted his foot and went to open the door.

[OOC: Open post!]
sharp_as_knives: (At home)
Tea and harpsichord; it had become Hannibal's Saturday routine. Today it was somewhat altered by the need to placate cats that had finally gotten both Jono and their sauna permissions back and were being extra demanding for some reason.

The second time he had to remove Beethoven from the counter, he stood there in a staring contest with him for several minutes. "You have your food. I very much doubt you want tea. Go bother Jono."

He didn't seem to be listening very well. And not only because he was deaf.

[OOC: Open post!]
sharp_as_knives: (At home)
It was a bit cloudy and humid today, so Hannibal had decided to stay inside for this. And though he himself had no doubts, in deference to Jono's worries, he'd chosen his office as the most expendable open space in the house.

He stretched out a padded blanket on the floor and set a towel and the small bottle of massage oil next to it.

Then, as usual, it was time to round up Jono.

[OOC: For the one mentioned!]
sharp_as_knives: (At home)
Hannibal hadn't slept last night. Not through any sudden bout of insomnia, but because of staying up to listen to a five-year-old's chatter. Memory played tricks on you; Hannibal knew that better than most. But his memories of Mischa couldn't have painted her as any more sunny or wonderful than she was.

She'd spent the evening exploring his house and pulling him along with her. He'd told her the history of himself and their family, albeit somewhat edited.

Now they were sitting in the library, Hannibal on the sofa and Mischa in his lap as he read to her from a book of French poetry. She only understood one word in five, but she'd always enjoyed just listening to his voice. In her lap was a purring Joni, who had unsurprisingly taken to her. On the other end of the sofa was Beethoven, equally unsurprisingly eyeing her suspiciously.

He could manage for a weekend. Hannibal had Mischa back, however temporarily, and he wasn't giving her up until he had to.

[OOC: Expecting one or two, but open!]
sharp_as_knives: (At home)
His normal heat source had gone outside somewhere; Hannibal was mildly curious, but as cold as it was, he was happy to stay in. He had set up a nice, warm heat lamp before he left; it wasn't that big (having been bought, after all, for a much smaller Jono-snake, not that Hannibal remembered that at the moment), but if he curled himself up into a big pile, he could fit himself under it.

He'd been there for a while when something approached, and he picked up his head to look at it. The old, grey cat eyed him warily, and he returned the look. It stalked over to sniff him, and he flicked his tongue out to do the same. Eh, whatever. As long as it wasn't going to attack...?

It stepped on his coils.

[OOC: For the heat source mentioned! The cats are fine, but an NPC critter does get eaten.]
sharp_as_knives: (At home)
Hannibal had stayed up late last night, and only gotten to bed in the early morning. He was woken only a few hours later by the sudden cessation of all the little noises a house's appliances made. He made a quick mental check of things, listened to the weather, and was ready to go back to sleep when he found himself blinking in the light of a fireplace that hadn't been there a moment before.

He frowned at it and got up to look it over. It seemed normal in every respect except for the fact that it shouldn't be there.

Beethoven jumped down off the bed, came over to sniff and poke at the thing, then jumped up on the hearth, turned around, curled up, and went back to sleep.

Hannibal sighed and went down to make breakfast. "I have gas heating, you know," he told the air.

[OOC: Open post if anyone wants to drop by! Come on, somebody had to have gas heat!]
sharp_as_knives: (At home)
After yesterday's target practice, Hannibal had been left with a bloody lawn and a lot of eel meat.

So, after hosing off the lawn (and putting out shrimp for the flamingos, shut up), he started cooking.

He started with bouillabaisse, added smoked eel with new potatoes, leeks, and clam beurre blanc and smoked eel and crisp pork belly confit with baby beetroot and horseradish cream for Jono, since he'd been instrumental in getting the eels (and smoking a few unintentionally), continued with dashi-simmered eel because he couldn't leave out Japanese recipes, and finished with a simply cooked and artistically presented whole roasted eel.

Accompanying them were elegantly plated portions of sautéed spinach with apples and walnuts, a beautiful presentation of roquefort dip with apple, endive, and celery Hearts, homemade bread made into crostini with roasted garlic, goat cheese, and apple chutney, elegantly displayed parsnip bacon, and taiyaki which Hannibal had taken the liberty of shaping like eel rather than the traditional fish and filled with red bean paste.

There were also a very good Riesling and a Malbec, 18-year Laphroaig, sparkling water, and plenty of excellent coffee.

The lawn was clean, the only eel around was edible, and Hannibal's door was open! (Metaphorically; it was still a bit chilly, after all.)

Everyone welcome - come and eat the things that tried to eat you!

[OOC: Open post! No OCD, just show up, mingle, eat, drink, stare at the food dubiously, or whatever! I may be a bit SP, but I couldn't not do it!]
sharp_as_knives: (At home)
Hannibal rolled down his sleeves and nodded at the table. Everything looked to be in order for his little dinner. He'd made a slight variation on steak and kidney pie, with Yorkshire puddings, horseradish potatoes, and roast winter vegetables. And, since Jono would likely be far too busy to visit on Christmas day (Winsol no doubt meant a security nightmare above what it already was), Christmas pudding, one week early. It had been sitting for around a month, which should have been long enough, anyway.

Hopefully it would be a welcome break from the excessive work Jono was no doubt putting himself through, and they would have a chance to talk and share music again.

He had no doubts of Jono showing up - he'd sent a beautifully calligraphed invitation.

[OOC: For the one mentioned, though I suppose if anyone wants to drop by beforehand, why not?]


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