This week, Hannibal sent out e-mail ahead of time for the students to meet him at Portalocity, dressed for walking, where they were treated to the sight of Doctor Hannibal Lecter in casual clothing. Well, sturdy slacks, a linen button-up shirt, no tie, and a large (but stylish) hat
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=Mother's tits, you're as big a nerd as Sholeh!= Zeela sighed.
::I thought their conversation was interesting!:: Sholeh protested.
=And look! My point!=
"She suggests that I invest in a salt block for cooking. Or, rather, I should when I'm older. But when I told her we were here for class, she explained how you could do an entire class just on salt!"
...Of course, she was there, selling her artisinal salts, so it was possible the woman had been talking to Zhari with a slight bias.
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And Hannibal might have to get that woman's card.
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"Would you like to see the herbs I've gotten so far?" Zhari asked, holding up the spray of greenery. "I'm going to get more to experiment with, I think."
Fresh fish might be a good thing to have out in the bouncy castles, she was thinking.
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You could probably hear the disapproval in his voice at the thought of prepackaged frozen fish.
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"I'll probably get it wherever it's cheapest," she said, reminding him gently that not everyone could eat the finest foods the way he did--especially not when they were planning on serving hungry students, too. "But I'll make sure to get some from the fishmonger proper, when it's time for my exam."
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"You would?" Zhari asked, grin bright and sudden. "That would be so--"
::I have library after this,:: Sholeh reminded softly, apologetically. ::I mean, I suppose I can be a little late...::
"...Cool," Zhari finished, shoulders slumping. "It would be so cool, but I forgot. I have plans after class."
Please don't ask her what those plans are. Because that could get tricky.
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He was all about encouraging a love of food!
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Sholeh worked in the library, but Zhari couldn't just out and say that. Because it would get tricky trying to explain why someone else's job made it impossible for Zhahar to accompany Hannibal anywhere. And she couldn't claim that she was working--not if he listened to the radio at all.
"Another day, though?" she asked, hopefully. "I would very much appreciate the trip. I've never been to a proper fishmonger here."
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That was a terrible habit, Zhahar. Bags got stolen all the time.
"I don't have my cell phone on me," she admitted once she'd snagged it and come back over. "We're not used to carrying one, so we forget it a lot." She opened her bag, shoving what looked like a lot of fabric out of the way, and dug out a pen and a notebook. "If you will write down your number here, I can put it into my phone contacts list later."
Just the way she said that, like someone reminding themselves of the proper steps and terminology, just showed how rarely she even thought about it.
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"You have my e-mail address as well, if you're more comfortable with that. If I don't answer, I may be with a patient," or killing someone indulging in his hobbies indulging in his hobby of killing someone, "but if you leave a message, I'll phone you back as soon as I can."
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"Thank you," Zhahar replied, carefully tucking the notebook back into her bag. "I'm looking forward to the trip!"
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