MCA #4, Wednesday Afternoon

[suitably_heroic]

Atton's comlink was currently drifting neatly in his water-filled sink. That would keep Mical from comming him again with yet another mission. Right? Right. Probably. Maybe. Whatever.

He was too tired to think about it overmuch. He'd barely gotten five hours of sleep on Monday night before getting hauled out to go deal with some Exchange thing, and now he'd gone another 30-something hours without even a decent nap. He was going to kill something.

Wandering back from the sink, he made it about as far as the sofa before collapsing. Nap. Nap would be good. His Earth phone was in reach, though, so he at least took care to place a quick message to Sparkle before passing out. That way there'd at least be food.

But now: blessed, uninterrupted sleep. Oh yeah.

[[ may become more of a linkdrop as the day goes on, depending. open post, though. ]]

Comments

[suitably_heroic]

"That's as much up to reality as it is to him," Atton said, with a little shrug of his own. He took some bills out of his wallet. "The power of positive thinking doesn't really materialize great life opportunities."

[sharp_as_knives]

"True enough." Hannibal shrugged. "But I don't want him missing opportunities because he feels he isn't worth them."

He shook his head, smiling. "And he probably wouldn't thank us for talking about him like this, so I will stop."

[suitably_heroic]

And those bills were getting offered to Hannibal now.

Honestly, Atton would rather be talking about Sparks than about anything even vaguely adjacent to himself, but maybe if he paid Lecter back now, the conversation would be over anyway. "Probably not," he agreed. "Anyway, it's his life. I'm just glad he knows how to make lasagne now."

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal took the bills and tucked them into his own wallet. "I hope he enjoys this one and I haven't stolen his thunder." He nodded to Atton. "And now I should probably let you get back to sleep. Have a good day." He held out his hand.

[suitably_heroic]

Oh, thank the Force.

Look, he preferred it when Hannibal was on his end of the island, being snakey, and Atton was on his own side of the island, and, y'know, both parties did whatever made them happy.

(Unless whatever made them happy meant messing with Sparkle, anyway. Then, entrails.)

Atton took the offered hand and gave it a shake. There were lightsaber callouses on his hands these days, if mostly covered by the gloves, and his grip was pretty firm, but he wasn't petty enough to put all of his strength into it. "Thanks for dropping off the groceries, I appreciate it," he said easily. "Bouncing back and forth between two jobs doesn't make filling up the fridge any easier."

[sharp_as_knives]

Well really, Hannibal had only been snakey the once.

But he was totally down with entrails. They were yummy.

He shook Atton's hand with polite firmness; his own callouses were more the kind from pencil and cooking-knife. "You're quite welcome. I was happy to help; please feel free to call intentionally in future."

[suitably_heroic]

He would probably not be down with these kinds of entrails. Just because Atton was all light side now didn't mean he didn't remember how to make people hurt.

"I'll keep it in mind," he said easily. (He wouldn't.) "And I'll see you at the next staff meeting, if nothing else."

[sharp_as_knives]

"Until then." Hannibal nodded and smiled as he left.

[suitably_heroic]

Atton waited until he could sense Hannibal leaving the building before turning around and swearing a blue streak in Twi'lekki.

Then he turned back towards the fridge. Okay. The guy had no reason to poison him, but the way he worked with that food-- then again, he seemed to like the food better than people, so maybe poison wasn't his deal.

He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Right," he muttered, "I'll see if I'm hungry enough to try it when I wake up."

At least then if he did die from poisoned lasagne, he'd die well-rested and not quite as inclined to strangle everyone on the planet?