Jono's Room, The Apartment Above Groovy Tunes, Stupid-Early Sunday Morning

[furnaceface]

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[never_dull]

Hannibal slept well, but not particularly deeply. The sudden movement of the bed woke him, and he took a moment to assess the situation. Then another to let Jono begin to recover his dignity.

Then he sat up, moving the mattress enough to alert Jono, and wrapped an arm around him. "Bad dream?"

[furnaceface]

//Always,// Jono murmured, shoulders tensing a little, though they likely would have no matter who was moving to put an arm around him just then. //This one was new.//

He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, and then ran his fingers through his hair. He was awake, now. Something about waking up in a blind panic tended to do that to a person, even if he didn't have a heart to beat in his ears.

//Sorry,// he added, a little lamely. //Didn't mean to wake you.//

[never_dull]

"I don't mind." Hannibal loosened his arm, rubbing Jono's shoulder but giving him room to leave if he wanted. "Would you like to talk about it, or just sit?"

[furnaceface]

//Just sit,// Jono replied immediately, and then, almost just as quickly, he went and contradicted himself in what would have otherwise been the same breath. //It was the faces again. And I was a snake. A great burning snake who was also the charmer, and I made the faces dance before I devoured them into flame.//

It was actually an apt parallel, though the faces were different, do what he had done with Morton in Glacia to ensure Karla's safety. Get what information he needed from their targets, and then burn them away. And if he was too tired to go into their heads and muck around first, and if they hadn't already been killed by Morton, he'd feel every moment of it too, as if from somewhere far away.

They'd learned early that it was far preferable for a blade to deliver the killing strike, if they wanted to be particularly functional for the remainder of the night.