For those of you not sleeping off hangovers due to last night's jaunt into the fictional future, it was a beautiful morning just off the Mexican coast. And about mid-morning, the ship would be pulling in to dock in Puerta Vallarta. If you do decide to head off onto dry land, just be sure to make it back before the ship leaves at 6pm sharp! And for
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Continuing that Jedi contemplation streak he'd been on since yesterday.
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He needed to get better at shuffleboard or to learn not to make bets with Sia Fel. One or the other.
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Hannibal was going to admire the art, of course, but mostly he was just going to enjoy some birria and some decent coffee, and charm some of the locals into selling him the good, handmade tortillas and some quality seafood.
Given all the 1970s American tourists around, the fact he was fluent in Spanish did half the work for him.
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"If you don't mind," he said, brightening as he followed along. "I doubt it'll be the worst thing I've ever eaten either way, but it's always nice to make sure before you put your coins down."
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He took an almost dainty sip from the edge of the bowl and wiped his reddened lips against the back of his hand before offering the bowl back to Hannibal. "It's spicy," he said. "Tastes like something from the Mexican place in town, but fresher and without all the gloppy cheese."
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"This place here." It was a small open place, little more than a stand, but with brisk business from the locals, which was what Hannibal had been looking for. "I don't believe we've actually met, by the way - Doctor Hannibal Lecter." He held out his hand.
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