habbinalchau

[habbinalchau]

             Those perfectly manicured nails slid up his chest                  and Hannibal felt like perhaps his big old heart                  might just beat out of his chest. It was a relief                  and a joy to find Xu safe and sound. It came as                  more of a surprise than anything just how much                  he had missed having someone around who                  could keep up with him--someone who didn't                  fear his wrath or feel the need to ingratiate                  themselves to Hannibal.

             "Oh, honey. I don't doubt that--don't mean I ain't                  gonna worry when you disappear for months on                  end. I don't get attached so often, an' when I do,                  I don't expect the object of my affections to up an'                  disappear." Pressing Xu close as he kissed her,                  Hannibal relaxed somewhat, fingers tightening                  around Xu's waist. When she broke the kiss,                  Hannibal smiled, gold teeth glinting.               "Why don't we take this somewhere a little more                  private--you can tell me what's been goin' on to                  keep you from me for so awful long."

                                             ”You are quite the businessman, indeed.                                                Much more vibrant than the drones back                                                home…”

                 She sets the glasses on the nearest counter,                   letting the now free hand slide up his chest.                   Red nails gently trace the intricate designs                   of his suit, while the other cupped the side                   of his face. There’s a chuckle at his comment.

                                “I’ve survived this long, haven’t I?                                  I would assume I’m not as delicate                                  as most would believe…”

                  His lips met her’s, the hand on his chest took                   hold of the lapel gently. She only pulled away                   after a good while.

                                                      “I’ve missed you, so much…”

[habbinalchau]

30 Day OTP Challenge: 3/30 Gaming

[habbinalchau]

               Gazing admiringly into Xu's strange                   gold eyes, Hannibal gave a slow smile.                   "I'm real glad to hear it," he pauses, a                   hand sliding down to the small of her                   back as she presses her body against                   him. He licks his lips and clears his throat,                   thumb tracing a line over her cheekbone                   and down her neck. "I can imagine. Us                   mortal folk just ain't the same since the                    industrial revolution, huh? Gotta find                   yourself an old-fashioned cutthroat                   businessman," his hand slid down,                   gold-ringed fingers grazing the rise of                   Xu's breasts before trailing down her                   side to wrap around her waist.                 The big man gave a wolfish smile. "I ain't                   as tame as your followers--and I got the                    stones to know you ain't a delicate flower.                   In't that right?" He lowered his lips to hers,                   tasting her hungrily. 

                  She only smiles in return, finally reaching up to remove                   her glasses entirely. Her other hand goes to his cheek,                   tracing gently against his jawline.

                                          “They weren’t much of a problem,                                             but I had to come back, Hannibal.”

                Her body pushes forward and rests itself against him.

                                            “I was terribly lonely…”

[habbinalchau]

  This kid must have a death wish      or something, Hannibal thought,      shaking his head as he stared      at the scientist. You'd think that      he'd get the picture--sticking      around was tantamount to giving      up whatever insane grasp this      kid had on life. "Son, your logic      is worse than mine if you think       that's a viable way to keep your      grubby little self alive."   The big man smoothed the lapels      of his emerald green suit and gave      Newton a toothy smile. "You saw      what you came for, kid. Now why       don't you tell me what you really       want. Come to see what you could      scavenge from ol' Chau's operation?      See if you could pick the bones of      my business once you knew I was       dead, huh?" Well, he sure as fuck wasn't      dead. Nor did he plan on going any       time soon. And he sure as shit wasn't       going to let this little punk get away      clean. 

Oh. Cool! That didn’t go as bad as     he thought it would. And his nose     wasn’t bleeding. Even better. “Yeah.     Stuff. And I do not squeak. And well…     yeah, kinda. Usually when people get     eaten they stay eaten. But I guess     your ‘I ain’t makin’ money when I’m     dead’ logic works. So whatever.”

  “Dude, I ain’t—…I’m not saying we’re      friends. Not even close. But hey. Why      not check up on the guy that tried to      kill me that one time? Cause who knows.      Maybe he’s alive.”

[habbinalchau]

Cold eyes narrowed and his grip on Newton's throat tightened. He gave the kaijin a sharp jerk, baring gold teeth at him and letting out a little growl of displeasure. "You're walkin' a real thin line, punk. A real thin line." 

He tried to pull backwards again, digging his rear claws into the ground, tail thrashing even harder, thudding behind him.

[habbinalchau]

     Coolly, Hannibal extracted the knife and      flipped it shut, giving Newton a little shove      with the hilt. "Stuff? That's why you're wasting      my time? I got better things to do than listen to      you squeak. You think I'd let some little squirt      like that Otachi's spawn kill me? I ain't makin'       money when I'm dead, kid."      "And that might be 'typical stuff' for folk who are      friends, but we ain't that."

      Great. Now he had to stand on his toes just

      to keep himself from cutting the interior of his       nose more than he would like. Which was not       to get cut at all. Period. And so far he felt like       he was gonna leave with a scratch or two.       Or in a body bag. Neither sounded pleasant.

      “I’m not little nor is my nose snotty but whatever,”        his voice had lost a bit of it’s confident edge.       “I’m here cause ya’ know…stuff. Like…how in         the world are you alive? Ya’ know. Typical stuff.”

[habbinalchau]

A smug smile curled the corners of Hannibal's lips and he did not loosen his grip. "No? I think you're whatever I say you are, kiddo." His fingers dug into the soft skin of Newt's throat. "Aren't you?"

He had no choice but to control the acid back or risk hurting himself, “Let go of me.” he growled, tail twitching, tugging back a little as his nostril flared. “I’m not a toy, man.”

[habbinalchau]

     The knife flicked out to jut up Newt's left nostril,      Hannibal's eyes narrowing behind his obsidian      lenses. "I guarantee you won't like it." Hannibal      rumbled. He was much quicker than he looked.      Only cold weather slowed him down these days,      but he sure as hell wasn't going to let old Winter      get to him. He shifted and his bodyguards had      their guns trained on Newt in an instant. 

     "You snot-nosed little prick," Hannibal gave the knife      a little upward tug, to really impress his point. "What      in the Sam HIll do you want? My patience is runnin'      out real quick."

  “Oh’kay first of. Hella rude. Even for you, which is actually normal.     But still. And secondly, big men are kinda slow so I’m not worried.     The guards even less so. Cause they’re hot. And getting beaten up     or killed by attractive people is great. Thirdly, that is not a lot of time     for me to impress you but I can bedazzle an entire pair of pants in     under a minute so I’d say that’s pretty impressive. And lastly. No.     I like where my appendages are.”

[habbinalchau]

   Hannibal gave Xu a soft smile, gold teeth glimmering                 as his lips pulled back. "Memory don't have anything on                 the real thing, you wonderful creature." Hannibal rumbled                 between them as his thumb stroked over her cheekbone.        "I'm glad t'see that you're alright. I was worried, after those thugs                 found you the last time."

                                 It was fervent, that kiss, but her arms seem to automatically                                  respond to him by slipping around his neck. Though,                                  they would slide back down to the lapels of his suit                                  as he pulled away just slightly. Her dark tinted                                   glasses had slid down the bridge of her nose, wide                                  gold eyes staring at him.

                     ”I couldn’t stay away…”

[habbinalchau]

"Bite that down, kid, or I'll cut the sack right outta your throat." Hannibal's hand wrapped around Newt's throat where his head met his neck and squeezed, cutting off the flow of acid into his mouth. "An' maybe, if you're real lucky, I won' take the rest of your head with it."

He growled deeper, though he was scared, fighting the urge to bite, throat glowing brighter as the acid in there began to surge, preparing to attack. Half of him wanted to fight, showing Hannibal what he was really capable of, and half of him was scared that he’d fuck it up.

[habbinalchau]

"Not gonna happen, punk. You hired on with me. It ain't my problem you got turned all blue and scaly and suddenly think you can run in the fields, but you belong to me. You don't got the balls to survive on your own. I own you." Hannibal's large hand wrapped around Newton's chin, jerking his head up to stare into those kaiju-fied eyes with his own mismatched crystalline blue and murky grey ones. 

He tried to look scary, growling, raising his plates a little so that he was more intimidating. “Why won’t you take me seriously!?” he snarled, “I want out. I’ll work for you, I don’t care, but I can’t stand being trapped in that fucking place any more.”

[habbinalchau]

She only stands there, hand placed delicately on her hip, "Miss me?"

Hannibal was across the room in moments, cupping Xu's face in his hands, his lips seeking hers. He caught her up in an insistent kiss. When he pulled away, he kept his head against hers, bending slightly to account for height. His fingers twined in her hair. "I was afraid you'd never be back, darlin'."

[habbinalchau]

      "You're actin' like a damn child, I'm gonna go on treatin'             you like a child. I don't know that you don't got any room             left in that fanciful super-brain of yours to recognize social             cues, but when the big man with the armed guards tells             you leave," the butterfly knife flashed in Hannibal's hand.             "You got two minutes to impress me enough to let you stay,             elsewise I'm gonna start takin' appendages--real slow, like." 

    I’m not a baby though and you’re definitely      not sitting on me right now so I think you have      time for a conversation with an adult. In other      words, a conversation with me.

[habbinalchau]

[text] that how it is, kid?  [text] you got it. 

[within the hour, Hannibal shows up at the lab, arms crossed over his chest and two burly bodyguards trailing him, hands at the ready on their guns, despite being in a PPDC restricted zone.] Lookin' a little pale there, punk.

[text] i’m not fuckin scared of you

[text] if you were really gonna do something you’d be here in front of me [text] not texting me

[habbinalchau]

"I don't got the time or the patience to be babysittin' you. Get out before I turn your hide into a real special brand of leather."

[habbinalchau]

[text] you little fucker [text] I know you had it an you were the last one to see it [text] kid, I've cut people for less. 

[text] i have no clue where YOUR shoe is.

[text] keep track of your own shit. i’m not your maid.

[habbinalchau]

    Hannibal Chau had been busy. Well, to be fair, Hannibal Chau kept busy even when business wasn't booming. Lucky for him, business was thriving, not to mention the new influx of Kaiju Cultists, desperate to take home pieces of their vengeful gods. Hannibal thought it a quaint and idiotic joke, but the poor bastards were willing to shell out exuberant sums of money for just about any part of the kaiju they could get their hands on. 

    On this particular day, Hannibal was bent low over one of the ammonia scented workstations, observing. Fang stood at attention nearby, her heavily-lidded eyes sharp, despite being in the relative safety of the shop. Engrossed in conversation with one of his scientists and the man working on the skin louse, Hannibal didn't immediately notice that they had a visitor. 

     Straightening, Hannibal turned on the spot, eyes hidden behind dark lenses as he took in the newcomer. Fang shifted into the ready position and a sudden silence fell around Eldon's words. Pale eyebrows rose and Hannibal lifted a hand to smooth his goatee, the other sliding into the pocket of expensive scarlet pants. Jerking his chin at Eldon, several men moved towards him, making to pat the young man down. After several recent attempts on his life, Hannibal wasn't willing to underestimate anyone. 

   That scarred gaze never left Eldon as Hannibal ambled towards him, gold shoes clinking softly and glinting with each step. "Looking a bit rough there, kiddo." He rumbled, examining the younger man with an idle sort of interest. Stopping directly in front of Eldon, Hannibal raised his hands to smooth the lapels of the scientist's jacket. "Lookin' real rough. Got yourself all fancied up for little ol' me, but you couldn't bother to get a good night's sleep? The prospect of makin' a deal with the devil keepin' you up at night?" A pale eyebrow lifted and Hannibal flashed a glinting smile at the smaller man. 

    "Finally figured out what you want, eh, kid?" Hannibal's gruff voice was laced with wry amusement. "You better be real sure about that answer, Dr. Pheyst. I don't take well to folk who break their word." 

alternative employment }} +habbinalchau

    This was a poor decision. This was a terrible, no good, very bad decision that rang sharp in his lungs and tore apart at the fabric of his conscience, fraying it and burning the fibers into something akin to his ashen countenance. He hadn’t slept in days. He’d been evasive. He’d kept Herc at arm’s length and he’d kept the resignation papers he took from the man’s desk well-hidden, waiting until the right moment to turn them in. Today had felt like a good moment. Today had felt like he would just leave it like a suicide note and disappear, and he damn well almost did it. He got as far as the door to the Marshal’s office before he chickened out and shoved the papers into his bag, instead favoring a hasty retreat to the door and out into the muggy Hong Kong air.

    He was wearing nice clothes. He wanted to make a good impression when he set this awful idea into motion, and so he pulled his bag close to his side and tugged at the fabric of his maroon herringbone blazer, eyes downcast and lips pressed into a thin line. The farther he went from the Shatterdome, the heavier his heart felt; he knew he would be coming back that evening, but after that, he was unsure. It all depended on how this meeting went.

    Once upon a time, he would have lost his mind if he’d had to leave the Shatterdome. He’d have done anything to stay in his lab, in his safe little ecosystem that he had built around himself, and he would never have dreamed of abandoning it. The lab was his safe place. It was the only home he had. And that dependency was what got him in this mess in the first place—he’d been so attached to it that he’d killed an innocent woman over it. Or rather, he’d let his psychopathic companion do it, and then went over to his house and willingly ate part of her in some fancy-ass French dish he couldn’t remember the name of.

    He’d thought, at the time, that eating her would confirm her death and that would erase his guilt. But he was wrong. Now the Shatterdome was haunted, and his lab was especially tormenting. Once his haven, it was now something akin to hell that tore at the very fiber of his being and made him sick to his stomach. He’d had six episodes this week. Six. Twice, he had two in one day, and all of them were because of the stress his lab caused him. He couldn’t remember the last time he ate, or drank, or slept more than an hour. He’d nearly forgotten to take his medication that morning, he was so out of it.

    He sort of wished he had forgotten. He deserved the agony of rejected organs for what he’d done.

    The ecologist did not take long to get to the Bone Slums. His fingers trembled as they twisted into the strap of his bag, pulling it closer, ever-conscious of pickpockets. The bones of the Reckoner loomed over him, illuminated by the lambs suspended in its hollows and casting him in its enormous shadow. He suddenly felt terribly, terribly small.

    “I fucking hate this place.” He pressed his eyes shut and took a deep, shaky breath. Being near the Reckoner, when he was so unstable, made it nearly impossible to keep himself from breaking down. But he had to. He had business to attend to, and he had to stay strong. A weak mind on the path he journeyed would spell complete and utter disaster, and he knew it. So today he had to be stronger. Today he had to straighten his back and rub the fog of sleeplessness from his eyes, tighten his tie against his throat, and keep walking until he reached the one place in Hong Kong he swore he’d never visit again.

.    Quietly, he stepped in to the building, and his eyes traveled across the golden logo on the floor. His fingers trembled harder. Blue eyes trailed slowly across the room, until they settled on the red-coated back of the man he’d come to see. He felt like he was going to be sick. "Do you remember that offer you made to me ages ago?" The phrase broke through the din of work, and suddenly all was silence. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. “I think I’ve… I’ve finally got an answer for you.” He spoke loud enough to be heard, but was careful to keep the tremor from his voice. His eyes flitted down to the floor. To his nice, polished leather shoes. A gift from Dr. Lecter.

    He forced himself to look up, and he saw his reflection in a familiar pair of dark glasses. "And that answer," he said, swallowing, “is ‘yes’.”