electro_kinetic | OOM: Concert, part 2

Entry tags:

hannibal,
milliways

OOM: Concert, part 2

The stage itself is backed by a huge screen, big enough to nearly be an IMAX presentation, and the orchestra is in front, chairs empty. They're fashionably close to the starting time, because Noriko hates being late, and she didn't want to be too early: tucking her free hand in her coat pocket she walks with Hannibal, trying to keep her heels from clicking too loudly on the floor.

The seats printed on both tickets are quite good, being the center of the closest balcony, where the sound will blend and amplify without too much distortion, and a clear view to both the screen and the plalyers, but before they see any of that, there's the lobby to get through.

"Wow," Nori says, looking up at the starburst lights. "This place is pretty huge."

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"No, we're not," Hannibal says. "And I'm sure I'd come up with a name if needed."

Noriko shakes her head, and reaches to smooth out her shirt and her hair, tucking behind her ear the one lock that's come out of place.

"I'm not going to ask what it is," she says. "So where to eat now?"

"This is your world," Hannibal says. "I do know some places in New York, but this is an alternative universe. Imagine me suggesting something that is really good in my world, but in yours, it is just a galumphing disaster in beige?"

"...Interesting way to put that," she says. "We'll give it a try, though. Since I don't eat out in Manhattan much."

"I cannot promise," Hannibal says, "that we won't be served spheres of lukewarm air, but we can risk it."

He turns to look for a cab.

"Well, we should be able to recover if we happen to get that," she says, and rattles her car keys at him in the case he's forgotten that they drove.

"I can drive us to a restaurant, you don't want to trust the cabbies around here."

"Are you certain you want to find another parking spot?" Hannibal says, cocking an eyebrow at her. "And if you don't, we might end up eating take-out in the car while double-parked in some tree lined side street."

"You are such a pessimist," Noriko replies. "There is plenty of parking around Manhattan, especially if you know where to look for it. But if it makes you feel better, then hail away."

She'll think he's being obtuse, but then what else is new. Unfortunately that ends with her standing in very plain view in public, something that after already being harassed isn't her favorite activity.

Hannibal looks behind and around while waiting for the familiar yellow to inevitably appear.

It takes a few minutes, and Noriko only barely shifts towards the road when a flash of yellow turns the corner; she's fidgeting with turning one of her earrings when there's a scuffle behind her and then pressure from an arm banded around her throat and dragging her backwards. She's better at screaming loudly than most people give her credit for, though, and the noise rings out as she stumbles, thrown off-balance by her heels and leaning awkwardly.

"Hannibal!"

Hannibal turns quickly, and follows Noriko and her attacker into the shadows of the next alley.

Noriko is only dragged partway into the alley, kicking down hard on the man's instep and resulting in a yell that makes her wince, it's so close to her ear. She tries to claw at the arm blocking her air, but gets nowhere, glowing dangerously bright as she charges up.

Hannibal advances quickly, one hand in his pocket.

There's a noise like a loud snap, and Noriko squeezes her eyes shut, and a bright flash envelops her and the man at her back; the searing smell of burning skin is sour as she takes advantage of her attacker's momentary lapse in concentration. Nori slips free, scraping her knees and leg on the rough concrete, coughing.

Hannibal closes the distance to the attacker, takes his hand out of his pocket and briefly, almost casually, slashes at his throat.

A spray of blood glistens in the distant light of a cab passing the mouth of the alley, and Hannibal gets a handkerchief from his other pocket to clean his scalpel while the attacker crumbles to ground, gurgling, and then falls silent and stops to move.

Noriko is silent.

She's just watched a man she considers a friend--possibly against her better judgement, conflicted as she is about Hannibal--murder someone for being rude to her at a concert. And he'd come prepared to do so, given the scalpel in his pocket. For a moment her glow is as small and flickering as a candle flame, and as telling of her shaken mood; her throat is sore and her knees and one calf are bleeding from the scrapes they'd earned on the ground, and Noriko stares at Hannibal, unsure of what to say.

"Did he injure you?" Hannibal asks, looking at her with worry. "Do you need a hospital?"

He turns the corpse over so it lies on its face.

"My legs are scratched," she answers, after a moment where, true, she is concerned, but then lifts her head to meet Hannibal's gaze, calm and unafraid.

She isn't afraid of Hannibal. Neither does she trust him much, but she won't act like prey; that's the first thing Noriko learned living on her own, to not act like prey. She doesn't intend to change now. "There are always broken bottles and glass on the ground. The cuts aren't deep, they'll heal."

She'd appreciate some help up, and the black stockings she had been wearing are now toast, but she can deal with that. There's nothing she can do about the bruise she'll have across her neck.

Hannibal straightens, and offers her a hand up. "I'll clean them out, of course, but I guess we won't need an emergency room."

Noriko takes his hand and picks herself up, twisting her hip so she can see the extent of the scratches. They're bleeding, but not deep, having only a few bits of glass stuck in them. She has no idea if they'd need stitching or not.

"I don't want to go to the ER," she says, shaking her head. "Why did you kill him, Hannibal?"

Hannibal looks at her as if she had just sprouted tusks.

"Because he attacked you and dragged you into a dark alley," he says, shrugging. "I would have thought that was obvious."

"Is it because of that, or because he was rude?" she asks, bending down to brush her knees off and hissing when it gushes a little bit of blood again, with a fresh sting.

"I actually was looking forward to dinner." Maybe--obviously--not like this, but she was hoping for a nice night.

"We can still have it," Hannibal says, getting a very small first aid kit from his coat pocket.

Hannibal Lecter, apparently, comes prepared.

"Just let me see to your scrapes first, and then maybe get some emergency stocking at a, what are they called here, bodega?"

"Yeah," Noriko says, nodding. "Bodega. Not that I care about my tights right this second."

She sighs, and is beyond even trying to be surprised that he's that prepared for things. She wants to know how deep the pockets on that coat are, though. "It kinda sucks that they closed the Four Seasons, it would have been really close," she murmurs, apropros of really nothing, but it was in her head. "I'd never been in there."

Hannibal kneels down and starts cleaning her scratches and bruises. "For the Four Seasons, you would have had to have tights," he says. "Definitely. Why did they close it?"

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