( open ) I be on my suit and tie

[avoirfaim]

Who: Anyone!
Where: The Ballroom
When: 12/31, 8 PM until the AM hours.
Rating: PG-13?
Summary: Two parties at once? What? While Jo is throwing her less than formal New Years Eve bash, Hannibal is having one of his own. Formal wear required and black tie optional, any raucous party crashers will automatically be added to his mental Rolodex. Happy New Year!

The Story:

Chorizo poached in red wine, mini meatballs in saffron sauce, coconut shrimp in a tamarind ginger sauce, peppered tuna skewers with wasabi mayonnaise, bacon-wrapped dates with parmesan, endive with chicken liver pate and dried cherry marmalade, five spice pork rillets, sole goujons with paprika salt, blue crab beignets, and a variety of oysters. These were just some of the plethora of tapas and hors d'oevres that were making the rounds with helping hands and sitting on various well placed bar height tables around the ballroom. Luckily for all, no one in Wonderland has died of mysterious causes that have anything to do with him in the last few days, but the closets were happy and willing to provide what he needed. Only some of the meats are of questionable origin, but they are all cooked and styled to perfection.

What the guests don't know won't hurt them, only make Hannibal feel content about his own skill set and superiority.

The playlist he prepared for the evening to match the champagne and fine dining was a mixture of classical in major key and early jazz, flowing into one another with purpose and varying levels of energy. Where the drinks bubble, so must the music.

He smiles at Evelyn and Alana, dressed as finely as usual, as he pours them the first glasses of champagne of the night.

"To fine company at the start of a new year."

Comments

open only to tippers of 25% and upwards

[radiopalkiller]

There is a universe in which Philip's decision to volunteer as a waiter not only makes perfect sense, but also constitutes as a sound plan towards any future endeavours on his mind.

This universe is not this one.

On the bright side, at least he cuts an adequately snazzy figure, once the formal jacket and bow tie have been donned. Given the lack of droning bar music and hollering beer lovers he can't entirely say that it brings back the nostalgia of a temporary job so and so many summers ago, but at least he finally found an answer to his not-once-in-his-entire-life-before asked question, 'Am I still really good at walking around with a tray of stuff balanced neatly on one hand?'

The answer is yes. Yes, he is.

/tucks a twenty pound note in his breast pocket B)

[nascensibility]

There is a universe wherein Evelyn attends more fancy dinner parties than she actually ever had at home, and this is it. Dressed in glittering pink, hair done up in a pseudo-Greek knot that she couldn't be too bothered with, Evelyn wanders away from the main table when she catches a familiar figure wearing a pique waistcoat in her periphery.

"...Philip?"

Pardon her surprise, dear friend, she really has to wonder whether or not he actively volunteered for waiter duty or if this has anything to do with the conversation they once had about reading The Silence of the Lambs and catching a viewing of the same film.

(Which she did, for the record.)

/lapdances for five minut-- wait wrong party

[radiopalkiller]

There comes a time in a man's life when he has to accept that terrible ideas are no longer accidents liable to happen on bad days alone; a day in a man's life when he has to embrace that terrible ideas have become his very way of living. For Philip the enlightenment of day is long overdue.

He smiles back pleasantly, more than many subdued days of the past would have allowed, and lowers the tray in his hand; a delicious assortment of coconut shrimp in tamarind ginger sauce, ready for the taking. And the coconuts may not even be people.

aw boo

[nascensibility]

She gives him A Look - it might even be The Look - that says she isn't sure precisely what he's doing here and that she really has every right to question his motives when it comes to lurking around anything associated with Hannibal Lecter. Philip had not been subtle, less forceful than Dean but suggesting caution in much the same way. Be careful, always be careful. Philip knows as well as Evelyn does that people like them are always sticking their noses into things they shouldn't.

Evelyn moves closer, a friendly hand on his elbow and a hushed voice when she asks:

"...what are you doing here?"

'Waiter' seems a bit beneath him, unless he's doing reconnaissance for some reason.

meet me at the afterparty lol wink ;)

[radiopalkiller]

Evelyn has a history. A bloody one, with books at that. Given her field and her passions you would think the manuscripts would deign to treat her kinder. But at best they lure her into trouble, and at times - here - their worlds come to life to haunt her. Violently more than excitingly, at least from where Philip stands.

And there's another part to that story.

With all too few exceptions Evelyn O'Connell's liaisons (romantic or otherwise) seem to come delivered with heavy and blood-soaked baggage. More than she should be expected to carry; far more than Philip deems them worth to be. Except of course that's hardly his call to make, for better to worse.

It's not his place to meddle either, but at least that's not the reason he decided to come. Not entirely, anyway.

Philip looks around cautiously. A blanket of conversational murmurs has spread over the dinner party. The people in sight are all otherwise occupied. One pair of closed lips won't attract more attention than he can handle.

"Other than lugging around shrimp?" he says, not saying a word out loud at all. "Physics pays badly here. Lecter was looking for help. Thought I might as well pass the time."

ooh mister lafresque oooh~~~

[nascensibility]

Evelyn has half a mind to point out that Philip looks as though he's definitely here to meddle and/or stick his nose into things, and that he should really stop that, she's fine, she can take of herself now, did she mention she's been carrying a gun these days? Doubtful he would listen either way, her protests subjected to selective hearing rather than falling upon deaf ears. Perhaps it's the suit that makes him look so awfully suspect, like a busybody of a valet.

Pass the time, her foot.

"Ah. And it has nothing at all to do with the reputation our host has garnered, I'm sure," she observes conversationally, playing the inquisitive guest and selecting an hors d'oeuvre from Philip's prawn platter.

"Are you packing heat under that tailcoat, Mister LaFresque?"

[avoirfaim]

It would be terribly rude for Hannibal to not thank Phillip for volunteering to help, now that the last minute preparations are complete and the party is underway. He takes a date from Phillip's tray with a cordial smile.

"Thank you again, Phillip, the help is invaluable. Should you like, I've put aside some hors d'oeuvres for you in the kitchen."

[radiopalkiller]

So he can still give the fish a shot, right?

Because Philip would be lying to himself if he said he hadn't casually wondered whether people counts as go-to ingredient around these parts, or if that sort of delicacy is reserved for occasions more special than today. At least his own wariness towards meat products long predates Hannibal's reputation; for better or worse that's a certainty to embrace.

Philip sports a polite smile in return. Thank you, he mouths in silence, nodding.

(In his mind he tries to remember the corresponding sign for practice. Flat hand motioning from mouth towards the person you're addressing? Right, and lips not puckered, otherwise you'll be thanking them a lot friendlier than intended. Well, at least the theory is starting to sink in.)

In practice his enthusiasm for applied sign language is somewhat diminished, and he finds himself reaching for alternatives instead. For one of them literally so now, as he fishes for the communication devices in his tailcoat, to type a question beyond acceptable lip reading length.

"How many people are you expecting?"

Tray balanced steadily on his other hand (thank god that stunt worked out) he holds the display up for inspection.

ota.

[alayne]

[ the young lady who comes to the party is sansa stark. her hair is auburn rather than the dyed brown and it is held back in a braid which falls down her shoulder. her dress is the kind sansa would have liked. after all that happened, she cannot quite put sansa aside and certainly not for doctor hannibal's party.

she walks inside and lifts her chin, calls forward a little smile.

I can still do this, she thinks; I have already danced this dance before. ]

[undealt]

Ms. Stone.

[Gold says the voice with a trace of irony- he knows she revealed her real name and the importance of names doesn't escape him, but he did meet her as Alayne Stone and he feels compelled to address her as such, until corrected. After all, even his current moniker isn't real. Still, he supposes he should give her the option and cants his head to the side.]

Or would you prefer "Lady Stark" tonight?

[alayne]

--- Sansa.

[ alayne must be put aside, if the recent months have taught her anything and it is a hard duty for sansa was hidden for so long and alayne is so familiar. it would have been all that much easier, to tell him 'please, alayne, as we are well familiar' but it would not be right. no, I must be brave, she reminds herself as sansa had so often had done before, as my lady mother. ]

As we are well familiar.

[ a small smile. I must be brave, she thinks and the sentiment feels familiar. ]

It is very good of you to remember.

[undealt]

Oh, I never forget a name, once it's been given to me.

[His smile widens as he reaches for a glass of champagne off the table.] There is quite a great deal of power in names, you know.

[alayne]

I know only that names show your station.

[ said carefully. she always has the same sense with him; that he knows more about her than all others though truly it cannot be. she thinks, he must have known I was lying the whole time and she wants to ask but dares not. ]

Stone is the surname given the bastards who were born to the lords or ladies of the Vale. Yet some baseborn children never receive a surname, if they are born to to the smallfolk.

[undealt]

It seems the importance of them hasn't escaped the realm where you've come from. [that's part of it, really, but oh there's more.] A name binds a person in their skin - it tells the truth of your very soul. If anything, that method behind naming lower born children just shows how little your culture thinks of them.

[He smiles, staring at the bottom of his champagne glass.] Knowing a person's true name gives you some measure of power over them. I can see why you chose to hide yours as you did.

ota!

[unsullies]

[ Daenerys hasn't been to a party, really, since... well, her wedding, unless one counts her time spent wasting away in Q'arth (which she does not at the moment). Though she only knows a few of the mansion's residents and hardly considers herself close to any of them, she still arrives at the dinner dressed as a queen and smiling politely.

I must make allies, I must build and not tear down. Aeryn is not present at the moment as she'd thought it more prudent not to bring a tiny, destructive eating machine to a formal gathering. Instead, the young royal mingles, older in visage and aura than she had been a month ago. ]

[undealt]

[Gold gravitates to queens. It's a habit that has not ebbed since he stopped existing around them in their true habitats. Royalty has always proven to be malleable at best and better to have in front of you than behind at worst. Things are changing in Wonderland and he needs as many people in front of him as he can get.]

Extravagant, isn't it? [He steps up to her shoulder, holding a small plate of hors d'oevres that he's indulging in as he mingles, the very picture of casual. It's as if he's done this a time or two before.

They were actually palaces back then, though.] Though I suppose after the last month, we needed something like this.

[unsullies]

More so than I have seen thus far in this land. [ She inclines her head politely at Gold as he approaches, glad to see the face of someone she considers friendly. ] I would expect no less of Doctor Lecter, if his usual dress is to be taken as habit.

[ She considers the mention of the last month, frowning, though only slightly. ]

I suppose I am fortune that I was not present for most of it.

[undealt]

Indeed. [Gold isn't entirely certain about Lecter, but the man's intriguing and worthy of being watched, which is what he's doing now.

After a second of quiet contemplation, he tears his eyes away from the host and fixes her with a look that's a bit sympathetic. The only thing worse than being in the thick of these things is turning up right in the middle.]

You were fortunate, indeed. But, alas, that chapter of our time in Wonderland appears to be over with very little ceremony. It seems the future can be rewritten after all.

[Unless it's not over, but he'll concern himself with such cynicism another day.]

[unsullies]

I think it foolish to believe that such a beast could disappear so suddenly. It would be wiser to be wary.

[ Though she hadn't been present for most of the event herself, Dany knows better than to assume that the monster has disappeared simply because the sun has risen. Metaphorically speaking. ]

Though, I hope your words prove true.

[handing]

In truth she can hardly pinpoint her reasons for being there; Pepper knows that most of her friends who are celebrating have opted to hit up the bar that night. But in the end, against every sense of better judgement, she conjures a rich and elegant dress from her closet and heads to the ballroom. On the surface it's like so many other events she would attend back home, charity balls and galas after some awards ceremony. If only the host had been a different person, she really might have enjoyed herself more.

But the host is ultimately what cinched her decision. Perhaps no one has died in Wonderland at Hannibal's hand lately, but Pepper remains certain one had several months ago. Tony's death had long been a mystery, and perhaps it's her own murder that drives her there that night. Of course what she expects to come of it is hard to say; it's not like she can sneak out tapas in polite society, but the thought is tempting. Certainly Jemma or Bruce can come up with a way to test for human remains within them.

Proof is a rare and invaluable thing in Wonderland; justice, she finds, is all the more fleeting.

Unfortunately, the fact that Pepper always has been a terrible liar stays her hand. But even if she doesn't steal any morsels for later, she notably also avoids anything that has meat in it. Hopefully she can find a vegetarian option or two for the sake of seeming polite, and the drinks should be safe enough. She may even start to enjoy herself as the evening goes on, at least a little. Not everyone in the room is a psychotic murderer, after all. There are even a few faces she recognizes, for better or worse.

Largely worse. It's difficult to hold back the urge to warn people against such delicious looking bites, after all.

ota (except the part that's marked otherwise c:)

[itwouldbeatragedy]

When Kaneki had offered to help as a waiter, he'd done so because the only other thing he had to do was read some more books. It wasn't that he would have been unhappy to spend this time reading, but he thought it would be better to get out of his room and maybe talk to people.

He's not there for the food. That's part of the reason he volunteered to help instead of just asking if he could come as a guest. The other parts are that a) he doesn't know Hannibal well enough to assume he's invited and b) he already has experience as a waiter, so why mess with a good thing?

He was not expecting to smell anything appetizing, however. For anyone else, that probably wouldn't be an issue, but for Kaneki, it sets off so many red flags and alarm bells and other attention-grabbing things that he very nearly drops the plate of hors d'oevres he's just picked up. Sure the meat is cooked and that dulls the smell somewhat, but Kaneki still recognizes it right away.

He quickly puts the plate back down and gets another, less suspect one to offer to people. He says nothing about what he knows, but can't help but cringe a bit when he sees anyone eating those other ones. He'll try to gently direct people toward less...people-ish foods, if he thinks he wouldn't be intruding.

[Closed to Hannibal]

Somewhat later in the night, as things are winding down and Kaneki suspects there may not be many other sober people in the area, he slips into the kitchen with an empty tray and goes to stand over one of the remaining plates of those hors d'oevres he's been avoiding all night. Maybe this is a trick of his senses. The meat is cooked; maybe that's throwing him off.

He's never eaten cooked human before and he isn't sure what it will taste like to him. If it's spiced at all, that will taint it for him, he's sure. He can't even drink sugared coffee after all.

Unable to rely on his nose, there's only way for Kaneki to be sure about what is sitting on that plate. After a nervous glance at the door, he picks a bit of meat out of any dressing that might be painstakingly arranged around it and puts it in his mouth.

It is cooked and it is seasoned, so it tastes off somehow, but it's undoubtedly human. Kaneki's eyes widen and he looked over at the door again as though expecting Hannibal to appear on cue.

He doesn't. And without realizing he's doing it, Kaneki is already picking more meat off of the plate and putting it in his mouth. He never seems to realize just how hungry he is until he starts to eat, but now that he's started, he's on auto-pilot. He has to eat, and he has to eat now, as much as he can.

It's not quite blood lust, as he's experienced before; he still has enough presence of mind that he wouldn't attack anyone to walk in right now. He doesn't have enough to keep his covered eye from turning red with blood as he eats what's in front of him as quickly as he can, forgetting to watch the door in case anyone enters.

[avoirfaim]

Hannibal is, in the case of Kaneki's mysterious eating dysfunction, more curious than he is suspicious. Suspicion implies potential harm to his own well being, and there is none of that. Only the knowledge that something was off, and off could be anything from auto-cannibalism to anxiety. Really, quite a bit of a spectrum there.

Needless to say, Hannibal found no reason not to accept Kaneki's offer when he offered to work the New Years Eve party. It was going quite well, until this exact moment. He only stepped into the kitchen for a moment, when the party was coming to a close and A guest was wondering if there were any more of those delicious pork rillets left. He entered the kitchen with his attention still turned to his guest, and the door closed behind him with a creak. He stared at the scene in front of him, not in the closest thing Hannibal Lecter felt to horror: disgust at the uncouth.

"I left a portion of food aside for each of you, you know."

[itwouldbeatragedy]

Kaneki jumps and stares at Hannibal. This is distressing for so, so many reasons. It's little consolation that he's wearing his eye patch and thus the blood flooding his left eye isn't visible. Not only is he a hairsbreadth away from exposing himself, but it takes several shuddering breaths before he can see anything but a meal where Hannibal's standing.

"I uh..."

He presses the back of one hand to his mouth; it smells like meat, which doesn't help. For just a second, he thinks he should just apologize and leave quickly and avoid the whole problem this moment could very easily turn into.

Instead, he swallows and lowers his hand again.

"I apologize. It's just that I know what this is."

He indicates what's left on the plate he'd been eating from. As much as possible he wants to deflect attention away from himself and why he would be eating it if he knew what it was.

"I want to know where you got it."

[avoirfaim]

He can smell the blood, but a kitchen with the slight twinge of blood is not unusual, and not worth considering for the moment. Rather, he is focused entirely on Kaneki's mouth, in food in his hands and the words that pass out from his lips.

He watches, unmoving and unmoved.

"It's food, made with meat from the refrigerators."

I don't know what you're talking about, you're going to have to be more specific hangs in the air like a subtitle. If it comes off entirely condescending it wouldn't be too far off from the truth. Condescension and calculated curiosity are both in his nature.

[itwouldbeatragedy]

"So you got it from there..."

Kaneki relaxes at that, though that doesn't resolve the issue, nor does it make it any easier to ask his next question. His expression shifts, calculating, but he really can't think of a way to get what he wants from Hannibal without exposing himself in the process.

"Why are you using human meat? And in something you're feeding to people who have no idea."

Unless half of Wonderland's residents are cannibals and no one let him in on that secret.