(no subject)

[lionintheroom]

 

As far as invasions went, this one was expertly done and Hannibal hadn’t heard a thing until his soon to be creator had alerted him to it. Once done, he was ashamed to see how freely and obvious it was- even with magic covering the young man’s tracks.

He’d removed his shoes, savored the touch of silk against his fine carpets as he padded up the stairs to his second library. In truth, he had not used many magical wards for the same reason he never bothered with mundane ones- Hannibal was removed from the world and no one wise would dare cross him. Even if they did it was not for long and only ever once. Passing the Basiquats and Daxs, he made his way to the nearest leather recliner and skidded into it quietly but not too quietly that his uninvited guest wouldn’t take pause.

He'd waited until the man’s work was almost done (and in truth, Hannibal was impressed with the care and recklessness the thief worked.) To a blind eye, it would seem that he was flipping aimlessly through Hannibal’s collections looking for gilt and easy money but not so- the fox caressed each spine with the edge of his cotton gloved fingertips like a lover’s kiss; and each kiss was intention. He wondered if again it was through some magic that he could ascertain the knowledge held within.

And each book taken fit with the rest like a symphony. He knew what he was doing. Hannibal was almost willing to let him escape before something caught his eye.

“Oh no, not that one.” He started, reaching over to turn the light on in the dark room. The suddenness blinded the thief but didn’t cause him to break stride. Good. He’d come too far to be mundane like that. “You’ll find that copy was the counterfeit one put out by the Government when Franco took power. The one you want is in the shop being restored. Perhaps come back next week?”

Comments

[raynesupreme]

Ethan was a bit on edge. He'd expected to encounter more security measures. In his experience with insanely wealthy collectors there were alarms and security everywhere but he supposed the discreet protections fitted with the fuzzy impression he was getting of Dr. Lecter. On the one hand it was good for his little foraging mission, but on the other hand it could mean he was more likely to get shot if he was caught instead of turned over to the police.

The things Ethan does for love. Love of books, information and or money or any combination of the above.

Once he's inside it's like a series of Sophie's Choices. Every book on the shelf is exquisite. Not all of them first editions but every tome beautifully bound, perfectly preserved and unique in their own ways. He knows he can't take them all and even worse he doubts he will be able to come back so he has to be choosy about which books he liberates. There are so many on arcane herbal remedies, on plants, on poisons he pulls one after another until he comes across the big fat tome on the culinary arts. Larousse Gastronomique. He doesn't know exactly why he chooses it, he just feels it calling and who is he to not answer the call?

Which is when the lights come on and Ethan is suddenly confronted with Dr Hannibal Lecter in the flesh. There's nothing in his reputation that explains the chill that rushes down Ethan's spine but as someone who's spent his life in trouble Ethan knows trouble when he steps in it and he has absolutely stepped in it now.

"Next week? I'd be delighted."

[lionintheroom]

The fox cut an intriguing picture; wisdom and a discerning eye that would put the greatest bibliophile to shame in a barely fed, tattily closed deviant. He didn’t freeze, Hannibal was pleased to observe, nor did he dart away to escape as predictable. Instead, the young thief and stood up straight and met him jape for jape. Maybe the evening wouldn’t be a total loss then.

“Delightful. Come, then” He instructed, making his way towards the kitchen. He didn’t know why for certain but he knew the boy would follow. Fear perhaps but certainly curiosity and that was more then enough to pique his interest. And Hannibal could make plenty of his own magic with curiosity.
The kitchen lights were motion sensor and bathed the room in warm dim light befitting the late hour. “Tea or milk? I would offer you coffee but dare not give you nightmares.”
He motioned to one of the large barstools by the counter. “Look at you, famished. There is no reason for that here as my guest. Not if we are to discuss LaRousse….so sandwich or snack? What will you eat?

[raynesupreme]

Does he know better? He does. Is he following the scary man into the kitchen anyway? He is.

"Tea, thank you. I've been told coffee is not my friend." Actually what Ripper said was something about knocking Ethan unconscious the next time he drank enough coffee to be awake for three days straight talking nonstop and playing the kazoo.

He slid onto one of the barstools. He hasn't been caught mid-burglary many times and when he has been caught no one has ever offered him a snack. "Sometimes I don't remember to eat. There's always so many other things to do." He looks around the immaculate kitchen with interest. It looks like a chef's playground. All of a sudden he is deeply hungry. "You have a very interesting definition of guest." He points out mostly to distract from the loud rumble of his stomach. "I'll eat anything."

[lionintheroom]

Hannibal smiled behind the rows of expertly packed linen bags that held tea so rare and delicate millionaires would pay a small fortune to steal from the native locals. Picking the one in gold linen, he rose again with wooden gaiwan in toe and become to brew his own blend of Chinese green teas and psilocybin. Soon enough the woodsy warm aroma began to light the room.

He started on the sandwich and the slab of Iberian ham, making sure to cut several slices for his guest to try. He smiled as he held the knife between the curve of an overripe fig. “Funny you should mention that.”
Sliding the plate across the smooth marble, he leaned in what he hoped was an uncommitted way and poured the tea, first to the tea gods- the little jade foxes staring down the thief.

“Why were you in my library at 3 in the morning. The witches’ hour,” He mused, setting the tea before him. He was English by the sound of it. He would appreciate. “I imagine this will be an interesting story.”

[raynesupreme]

Ethan knows about hunting prey. He's done rituals that call for sacrificing animals and bunnies work pretty well and there are only so many pet stores willing to sell a person rabbit after rabbit - they get suspicious. He's sat patiently waiting for his prey to take the bait. Taking snacks from Dr Lecter makes him feel like a bunny rabbit.

"I don't know how interesting it is." Ethan begins. He's willing to Schererzade this thing and tell stories until dawn if it ends with him not getting killed. "I'm a collector of books, rare, beautiful, books." He sipped the tea and the complex earthy, sweet, woodsy taste burst across his tongue. "I promise your books would have been treated with the utmost care while they were with me. Sometimes I deal in rare or interesting things but mostly I'm just adding to my own collection. I have friends at most of the auction houses and I track what books go where and you've bought some really great books...your library is like catnip to someone like me."

He briefly met the doctor's gaze and felt himself being dissected so he turned his attention back to the tea, cradling it like a warm old friend. "I don't know what made me touch the Larousse...I don't do much cooking. Is it particularly special to you?"

[lionintheroom]

The young thief drinks up the tea like it's a familiar friend, and Hannibal listens to his story and decides he believes it. He takes two full bites from his sandwich, allowing the time to swirl around them. His eyes are already beginning to dilate.

"So you would have brought them back, yes?" He prods. He isn't sure if the answer matters at this point, as his mind is already most made up but the waiting appointment with Grigori Rasputin has made him....thoughtful. "How charitable of you. Would you mind telling me which houses? I think a visit is in order."

It might- he decided, behoove him to have a control subject before his own turning but the comment about Larousse made him smile. "My stepmother bought it for me, before the War."

Or, he'd have a meal waiting for him to awake.