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The Boards, Sunday

Jono was aiming for a busy day at the Boards today. He'd strolled in around noon and readied the stage for band practice, for anybody who might decide to show. Hell, if someone wanted to just stroll in to join, that was absolutely welcome, too. They'd gained a Peebee last weekend, after all.

And so, in the afternoon, an open stage for those wanting to rehearse in or join the band.

And in the evening, Jono was hauling in beer. Again. And opening the stage up to anybody who bloody well wanted to get up on it, for any purpose their heart desired. Did they want to sing? The stage was there. Did they want to dance? Did they want to recite SHakespeare or play a game of chess with dramatic narration or anything? Well. There was a stage for that.

Which, presumably, was meant to be some sort of talent showcase, open mic, performing arts... whatever.

There there was a stage. For whatever. Nobody could accuse Jonothon of trying too hard, really, could they?

[OOC: Open with some OCD to save me from flooding your flists somewhat with multiple Boards posts!]

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Are you in the band? Do you want to be in the band? The stage is here for you!

Come on in and feel free to make this one messy, guys. We can talk about all of those masterpiece songs we've written or just hop up onto the stage and play, whatever floats your boat.

With more OCD in the OCD because that's how I roll.

Because there's beer. Because we need a chance to grab said beer, and to drink it, in case getting on the stage requires liquid courage.

There's a stage! IT IS YOURS FOR THE TAKING.

Because sometimes the beer is better for enjoying other people making idiots of themselves, rather than getting up to do so yourself.

I'm... I'm actually around all day. NEAT.

Hannibal was here. And despite his husband's gleeful suggestions, he was not on a bicycle, nor speaking Danish. He didn't even know Danish! (And now he was going to refuse to learn it just on principle.)

He had brought his theremin, in case anybody else wanted the piano, and was fiddling with it and studiously ignoring any references to last week.

Jono, meanwhile, was quite happily noodling around on his electric guitar. His bass was set off to the side until their guitarist showed up, mostly because he just felt like jamming for a while before practice started in earnest.

Incidentally, he'd also gotten his hands on an English to Danish app on his phone, and, well...

//Du tog ikke en cykel?//

That gremlin bite was the gift that kept on giving.

Hannibal had no idea (beyond a good guess) what that meant.

It wasn't going to stop him reaching out and kicking Jono.

While he played something that went along with Jono's guitar work.

He could multitask.

It was impressive just how quickly Jono could skip backwards from an incoming foot when he knew he bloody well deserved one.

//Jeg fortjente det.//

He was going to learn Danish just for you, Hannibal. He really was. Because he cared.

Interesting how that was one of the phrases he'd learned in advance.

"You enjoy sleeping on the couch, do you?" Hannibal asked smoothly. "Shall I stop buying berries as well?"

Look, Jono knew his husband. The Google Translate version of 'I deserved that' was fairly inevitably going to come in handy.

//Slept on a worse sofa than th'one we've got far more than I ever used my bed, back before I moved in with you,// Jono said smoothly. //I'll admit I'd miss the berries, though.//

"No berries, no beer," Hannibal warned. He played an ominous-sounding tune on the theremin.

//Might actually be a sacrifice I'm willing to make,// Jono noted, playing a rebellious sting in reply.

"Which sacrifice is greater?" Hannibal asked. "Giving up the foods you love, or giving up needling me for this one thing I had no control over?"

He wasn't even embarrassed by it; he mostly just wished Jono would give it up.

//That's an excellent question,// Jono mused. //The foods are good, but I'd come to terms with never being able to eat them again bloody near a decade ago. And I really do enjoy needling you...//

"But now you know what you would be missing," Hannibal pointed out. "And it isn't as though you don't have other things that you can find to needle me about rather than a pointless gremlin bite."

//I knew what I was missing before, you know,// Jono pointed out. //I did spend the first eighteen years of my life eating food, Hannibal.//

Okay, it wasn't Hannibal's food. But he was going to maintain that point all the same.

"Not my food," Hannibal answered. "Nor with my ability to taste."

There was no point in modesty when it was true.

Yeah, Jono was just going to wrinkle he nose at that one.

//Not your food,// he allowed, grudgingly. //Or your ability to taste.//

Though if he'd really let himself think about it, Hannibal's sense of taste really didn't compare to actually being able to eat on his own. There was just a whole different sense of satisfaction that came from a full belly and a pint in good company.

They would get there. And until then, Hannibal would do his best by Jono.

At least, if he let this thing go.

Hannibal just arched an eyebrow in question.

//Fine,// Jono muttered after a few more moments' pause. //But I reserve the right to learn Danish anyway just because I've already started and I'm prone to chewing my way up walls when I go too long without some sort of challenge.//

The island hadn't exactly been forthcoming with those lately.

Unless 'getting people to come to the Boards' counted as one.

"Learn whatever you like," Hannibal said. But he gave Jono a sly look. "Do we need to visit our pet project more often, if you aren't challenged enough?"

They could ruin his life faster, after all.

//We can also do some more of that,// Jono replied, a touch wryly. //Of course. Better take care of it before more damage is done, and all that.//

Well, before more of the wrong kind of damage was done.

"Whenever you like," Hannibal said. "Although not tomorrow; Mr. Algren is visiting for dinner and an introduction to the Japanese portion of my library."

He slid over to the piano, since nobody else seemed to be wanting it, and played a few chords.

//Works fine enough for me,// Jono mused. //Gives me time to plot what I'm doing next, anyway.//

"Have you had any thoughts?" Hannibal asked. He played a run, then settled in to noodle about in a way that Jono could join in if he wanted.

Jono tilted his head thoughtfully, easily jumping in with his guitar to play alongside Hannibal.

//A few scattered ones,// he admitted, //most of which involve us getting close enough often enough that they'll never imagine it was our fault to begin with.//

Hannibal was good at that sort of plan.

"I'm listening."

//First,// Jono said, //we're going to need to work on our own paper trail. Our first chat with him went well enough, but if we're going to do business with the bastard, we're going to need to lay the sort of business foundation that he'll want something to do with.//

Which was likely easier said than done when one wasn't even dealing with one's own reality.

Hannibal nodded. "Easiest is to take over identities that already exist. Find what we need and co-opt it."

Generally by killing the ones that already had it.

//Just so long as we can be sure it's somebody both well-off enough to be interesting while still being somebody that our target wouldn't already be familiar with,// Jono mused. //Know of anybody like that?//

Jono wasn't entirely sold on the idea of killing somebody just to steal a paper trail, mind.

"I have a few ideas," Hannibal said. "I'll get together a list for you."

As well as ranking them on a scale of killability.

//I look forward to seeing it,// Jono said, in the tone of voice that could only be achieved by a man who was carefully pondering just how much outright bloody murder this list was going to entail.

He only dreaded it a little bit.

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The Boards, Sunday

Afternoon: Band Rehearsal!

Evening: Open Mic!

Open Mic: Arrive/Mingle

Open Mic: Stage

Open Mic: Audience

OOC

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