“ Only if you’re offering.”
Hannibal had an aptitude for graphic detail, particularly when painting the mental image of the grotesque beings on the cusp of humanity. It all sounded so characteristic of what he’d come to expect from the hunter, an assignment of explosive proportions that complemented a smug smile and a trigger happy attitude from someone who took unassailable pleasure in their work.
He didn’t doubt the aftermath of the description; after all, Hannibal seemed all too glad to take the credit and make a point of boasting about it. Whether it was out of a genuine desire to brag or a subtle jab at what the outcome of their basement fight could’ve been, Jerry couldn’t care less.
“ Nice to hear that you’re keeping yourself busy. It’ll make a good story to tell, might even impress a few people.” Unfortunately, purposeful ambiguity prevented any clear cut answer as to whether he happened to be included in the suggested sample. Eyeing the waitress as she retreated back to the bar, the glance expanded over the bar’s entire area of patrons before returning to the seated hunter ahead, “ Anyway, you seem to be doing pretty well since the last time I saw you. Good for you.”
“ So,” he began with a jut of his chin over the empty gin and tonic glass, “ What brings you around here, between assignments?”
"Shit, you know what? I just realized, I musta left them in my other gun holster. Maybe next time.”
The fact that his story hadn’t managed to drag even a drop of emotion to Jerry’s face —whether it be shock or anger or amusement— disappointed the Nightstalker. He was hoping for a flash of disgust, for any bereavement over lost comrades, but he slowly realized the other vampires probably meant nothing to Jerry. Which meant no matter which one of his stories he whipped out, he’d get the same apathetic reply. Shrugging, he played with a mostly melted ice cube drifting around the bottom of his empty glass.
"Yeah, I tend to do much better when I’m not bleeding all over someone’s feeding chamber floor." Gradually his eyes drifted up to meet his former friend’s, nails tapping against the glass. "Funny, I was gonna ask something similar. You’re in my neck of the woods. NYC’s kind of the perfect place for my HQ.”
"You do a lot of ‘tooting your own horn’?" he joked, brows furrowing as he added, "Even with the disadvantages, I do kind of miss being human. Nothing like offing creatures you shouldn’t have any chance against to make you feel both insane and empowered." He continued down from neck to shoulders, happy to make himself useful in some way. At the answer, he glanced down at his chest, unable to meet Hannibal’s eyes. "…it doesn’t need to be open handed. You could – I mean, if you broke something, I’d be fine with it. But that’s pretty fucking extreme, I guess." Aeson laughed quietly and shook his head, putting aside his shame for the moment. "You’re telling me. Couldn’t even get the prison system to pull it off." He stood, went into the attached bathroom and came out with two towels. After cleaning his own mess off, he tossed the other onto the bed. "If you want to wipe yourself down," he explained. "Unless you want something more thorough, bit more personal. Whichever."
"Not so much nowadays. Plus it feels way more like sucking a dick than getting your dick sucked, so there’s that." Chuckling, he rubbed his head back against the pillow. "It’s interesting that feeling insane and empowered is at the top of your con list and not having every bone in your body snapped and transfigured into a wild animal that wants to hunt and bone once a month." A thumb rubbed a patch of Aeson’s skin in silent comfort, understanding the other’s request, despite how radical it was. "We’ll uh…see what happens. Hows about that?" There was a pang of disappointment when his friend’s body left his, suddenly noticing how awkwardly he was hanging out of his jeans, rearranging himself when the towel landed on the bed next to him. Hands paused in their work, he glanced up at the wolf. "Cleanliness is next to godliness.” he nodded, abandoning the jeans and boxers on the stroll into the bathroom. “They always have the swankiest bathrooms here too. …Is that a jacuzzi tub?”
"When we have sex it’s almost like banging myself, which is pretty neat. I’m glad you’re not all the way me though. Believe it or not, I’d actually get sick of myself sooner or later. But you? You’re funny. You can stay. …And I think you’re a good man, no matter how much you try to convince me you’re not."
"You. I like you. A lot. I like being around you…and on you. The fact that you that could murder me easily with Kung Fu and pointy objects if you one day chose to is kind of cool. Also, you have an excellent ass."
(( Just quit smoking cigarettes so I’ll be here loitering and attempting to do replies but then getting frustrated and watching a House, M.D. marathon and shoving chocolate into my face instead.
"There’s a thousand wonderful ways to say it kid."
"Well, are you gonna spit one of ‘em out or just stand there all crimson and intimidating instead? Nice pocket rocket, by the way. Must have a helluva kick."
"Jesus, Han! …Alice. Trooper. New York City. I don’t know what a Dippin’ Dots is, but how many fingers am I holding up?" The answer is two, index and middle, waggling in front of Hannibal’s face.
"Jesus? Where?" Attempting to lift his head with a groan, he quickly gave up and let it thud back against the concrete. "Dippin’ Dots are—" Reaching out quickly, he swiped the fingers out of his face and held them away, ignoring her question. "It’s ice cream, except dots. Dots.”
"How do you say ‘that’s what she said' in Russian?”
~ “Fuuuuck. Skull…achey…musta hit it harder than I thought. Wait, who are you again? Where am I? Do they still make Dippin’ Dots? Help.”
"To be fair, the guy that gave me the job said you weren’t even supposed to be home. So much for that." Zack finally relaxed some when he saw the gun lowered, even letting out a sigh of relief. "I’m Zack. If you’re not gonna shoot me, which I would very much appreciate,…can I go?”
"The guy that gave you the job sounds like a tool or a moron. Probably both. Haven’t you ever heard of recon? Send some idiot to the door dressed as a mail man or something stupid. I would have answered if I was buzzed." A look of amusement crossed Hannibal’s face as he observed the change in the boy’s expression, chuckling. "Hell no you don’t get to waddle outta here unscathed. …Gimme your wallet. Phone. Left sneaker. Come on, hustle up."
Halfway between sleep and waking, lingering in a doze until Hannibal made his way home for the night, the Nightstalker’s stream of curses was all it took to drag Alice back to wakefulness. Pushing up to her elbows, she squinted in her partner’s direction.
"…You didn’t want to put it together," she reminded him, reaching over to turn the lamp on. "Somethin’ about Alan’s key…" The sudden intrusion of the bright light made her eyes burn and water, one hand pressing against them as she groped blindly for his shoulder to rub at it.
She caught a whiff of the scent of liquor, sharp and strong, and huffed softly. Shifting, Alice reached for the bottom of Hannibal’s shirts and helped him out of them, tossing them as far away from the bed as she could. ”…Feel like I’m gonna get drunk just smellin’ you, darlin’.”
"Alan is the key master." A limp arm slapped over his eyes protected them from the burn of the lamp, groaning lightly. There was a brief moment where he considered tossing his pillow at the source, but he thought better of it before he could take such an action. "Also, once he shrunk his children into tiny specks. And his plant eats people. Now that I think about it, his name might not have been Alan. I think it’s Helmet. Dark Helmet."
Worming his way out of the shirts with Alice’s help, he ran palms over his newly exposed skin, enjoying the sensation through slightly gin numbed palms. “A drunker me might shove you in my pit to see if you actually would. Unless you wanna be all up in there, in which case I’m more than happy to crack you open one. It’s a thing, I saw it online once. This chick, she—” Hannibal stopped himself, offering the wolf a big grin instead while he worked at his button to slip out of his cargos. “…Never mind.”
Aeson snorted and said, “Hey, my willingness to fuck around isn’t something that can be turned on and off at the push of a button. It’s special. …but the wolf’s always up for another round, and it’s not my recovery time I’m concerned about.” He moved to balance himself over Hannibal’s waist again, but the hands that went to his neck and shoulders were only pressing down hard enough to work out the soreness. “Can’t say I blame you. FYI, though, I really wouldn’t mind if you were to… uh, smack me around a bit.” Despite the lack of confidence in his voice, his eyes flashed amber. “Eh, don’t worry about it. I get it. I don’t text much when I’m on hunts, either. We’ve pulled through so far, I expect you to come back eventually.” Truthfully, he hadn’t anticipated much of a commitment when he asked – it was just the closest he could get to saying he missed the guy.
"Former vampire, remember? Not tooting my own horn, I do pretty damn well for myself. No blue pills needed." One eye peeped open at Aeson, slipping shut again as both hands came to rest on the wolf’s hips. When the other’s fingers hit a particularly sensitive spot the toes on his right leg curled tight, molars clenched together to keep himself still as the muscles underneath were worked and relaxed. "Everyone needs a good open handed pop now and again. I’d be honored to." Blinking a few times, Hannibal opened his eyes fully, rolling his neck while several cracks and pops sounded. "If it eases your worry at all, I seem to be real fuckin’ bad at dying. Now, almost dying? There’s one of my talents.”
"You’re favorite kind, the one that doesn’t require clothes but gives you one hell of a workout." She grinned, looking over at the knife before its thrown out of sight. "Only half? Clearly I’m doing something wrong."
"What a coincidence, that’s the exact kind of sparring I had in mind. Great minds." With his free hand Hannibal gave the tip of Phi’s nose a squeeze. "I needed some of that blood to focus. Buuuut now that focus time is over…" he smirked.