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Caritas | Wednesday

Hannibal was experimenting. He'd brought a toaster from his room into the bar and was now trying to cook Hot Pockets all the way through. And who was testing these Hot Pockets out? Tino, of course. Hannibal gave him some cock and bull story about them being gourmet and a total girl attractor and Tino, being Tino, believed him.

Right now, Hannibal was on his fifth Hot Pocket and Tino was beginning to realize that everything about Hot Pockets was fake and gross.

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"Why are you freaking out like you're ten?" Hannibal asked, shaking his head. "Do I need to get you a paper bag to breathe into?"

"Because you are making a big deal out of it," she said, in a fit of honesty. "And I don't want it to be a big deal."

Especially since, you know, it kinda was.

"Because I haven't made a big deal of it the past few times you've come to visit?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Someone's touchy."

"So just let me be touchy, babe," she sighed, "and leave my behavior alone."

"Whatever," he said, shaking his head and resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "You want a drink or something? Or just come in here to annoy me?"

"Well, I think I came for the drink," she said, shrugging, "but I stayed for the annoyance. And now I'm not sure I actually even want a drink."

"Why not?" Hannibal asked, sighing. "Everyone wants a drink unless they want a Hot Pocket."

"You live by some weird rules, babe."

"I'm the bartender, I get to make the rules," he said proudly. "And don't go telling me Chuck's the owner. I run the joint when I'm on shift."

Kate snorted. "Yeah, and I bet Chuck would just love you cooking Hot Pockets here."

"Oh, he can suck it," Hannibal said and smirked. "He loves me so he'd forgive me. He knows what's good for him."

"Uh huh, I see." Yeah, she didn't quite buy that, but she also didn't find it too important. "Think I'm just gonna have a Coke, thanks."

"Wimp," he said but he did fetch her a Coke without another word. "I was hoping you'd get drunk and be drunkenly entertaining for me."

Kate sipped her drink before asking, "You don't think I'd just end up unloading all my issues on you?"

"Is that what you do when you're drunk?" he wondered curiously.

"Not necessarily," she said, shrugging a shoulder. She did have some amazing control on what came out, most of the time. "But it could happen. Mostly I'm a pretty happy drunk, though. Used to be, anyway."

"Used to be?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, I don't really get drunk a lot these days, you know?" Not that she'd ever been a huge drunk, but anyway. "And when I do, it's mostly 'cause I'm really upset, so..."

"So, no dancing around on stage with the zombies while drunk for me?" he asked, pulling a pout.

"No," she confirmed. "None. Sorry."

"You're a downer," he said and pouted again. "Better find another way to entertain me, then."

"I'm not here for your entertainment, babe," Kate snorted. "Entertain yourself."

"That mean you're not liking the attention I'm paying you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, it's a little... demand-y for my tastes," she replied easily. "Not to mention a little annoying, earlier."

"If you're gonna be that picky, I can get Tino to come over here," he offered.

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