Hannibal greeted class this evening with a nod. He appeared to be the Hannibal who had started teaching this semester, only his suit was a little rumpled and he smelled faintly - over his cologne - of viking. (At least he'd been able to win them over to let him past, but the hugging
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"Is there a psychiatrist skilled enough that he could convince a knife-wielding maniac not to kill him?" she inquired sweetly. "By analyzing her mind, or ... whatever it is that you people do."
The her was deliberate. So was the knife in her sock.
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She wasn't really going to kill him - well, not today, in the middle of class, anyway. Any game this delightful ought to be savored, not rushed.
"Curiosity," she added, to answer his last. "Boredom. Why does anyone do anything?"
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Porcini with foie gras and douglas fir
Bone marrow, caviar, and herbs
Molten chocolate cake with pomegranate granita
"My apologies," he said. "I had glögg as well, but I encountered a group of vikings on my way here." It was a pity, as he suspected that they all could use a drink.
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(Threatening a serial killer. Good life decisions, Eleanor.)
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WARNING: Pinging will be sloooow while I am at wooooooooooork.
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