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[youwill]

Once, there were three fisherman. Friends and sometimes rivals, all. At the end of a long day, they came together with their catch to judge who had done the best, and found that all three of them had only caught fugu. They jested some halfhearted arguments as to the sizes, but all three knew that to make a proper meal of their catches could be deadly. None of the fishermen were willing to confess to their fear, so they went home to prepare their stew. As knowledgeable fishermen, they knew which parts were most poisonous. They removed the liver and the ovaries, and when the stew was done it smelled delicious.

But when it came time to taste, no one stepped forward. "Let us find someone else to test it," said the wisest of them. "We will bring some to the beggar in town. We will be seen doing a kindness, and in turn, he will do us one." the fishermen all nodded their agreement, and packed a bowl for the beggar. All together, they went to find the beggar. The old man was surprised but grateful, and seemed to enjoy the stew immensely. When nothing had happened to him, the fishermen delightedly returned home to partake of their meal.

The next day, the beggar saw them on their way to the water to begin their day again. He was delighted to see that they were in good health - for he had hidden the stew, and only pretended to eat when the fisherman asked how it was. He knew better than to trust a stranger.

[Hannibal pauses and gives the ghost of a smile.]

Some men are wise, and some men only believe they are so.

Fugu is the Japanese word for pufferfish. They are considered delicacies there, and rightfully so. Fugu sashimi and milt are quite excquisite. A good fugu chef will not serve the liver, as that is where the potent neurotoxin is at its most powerful: but the flesh surrounding the liver is tender, and much less poisonous. It will likely not kill a man, but good fugu will leave the lips and tongue tingling.

[The smile fills out.]

A reminder, of how close one has brushed death.


[Private to Mal]

I suppose you fared well during the latest odyssey?

[Private to Damon]

Forgive me for not saying it sooner, but your actions with Maladicta upon your arrival were inspired.

[Spam for Abigail]

[He does not bother knocking, when he reaches her door. Instead he stands outside it, carefully taping three things to her door. It is, as is his wont, artful. The first page, trimmed to have rounded edges, has German lyrics, beautifully written out. It looks calligraphic. It is taped at an angle, and, overlapping at the corner, is another page, similarly trimmed, similarly written. It is the English translation of the song.

Between the pages, he very carefully tapes a rosehip, with its many shades, red and purple and black.

When he finishes, he admires the lay out for a moment before turning to go.]

[Spam for Alana]

[He carries a manilla folder gently, so as not to smudge any of the lines within. He walks with a little smile on his face, though he doesn't offer it to anyone he passes. This smile is not for them, and neither is what he holds. When he reaches Alana's cabin door, he pauses to make certain the trip did not blur any of his carefully drawn lines, and knocks.]

Comments

[deadly_ned]

It only kicks on if the fruit is rotted. When it comes back, it tastes sweeter.

Or so I'm told.

And then it stays ripe forever.


Which is a little worrying when you apply that logic to the people I bring back. I'm making them functionally immortal.

[youwill]

They may not experience aging, but there are other ways for their mortal lives to be threatened.

[Otherwise, he wouldn't have been so frightened for Digby.

[deadly_ned]

It's why I don't let Digby play in traffic.

But I know that in twenty years, I'll have aged to fifty. And Chuck will look exactly the same.

[youwill]

Will you speak to her about this?

[deadly_ned]

Not if I can avoid it. It seems like such a little thing to worry about. One of us could be hit by a train and then what would it matter if in twenty years we aged differently?

[youwill]

And if the two of you manage to avoid such circumstances. Will you wait until she notices?

[deadly_ned]

She's bound to put the pieces together sooner. Digby hasn't aged in twenty years.

[youwill]

Then preparation may serve you well.

[deadly_ned]

It's not a conversation I've ever needed to have with anyone.

[youwill]

Of anyone, she seems the one most in need of this conversation.

[deadly_ned]

How would you tell her?

If it were you.

[youwill]

[He pauses just a moment to enjoy the fact that Ned would ask.]

With compassion and honesty.

[With whatever he determined would be the most interesting. Compassion and honesty is what Ned wants to hear, so that is what he offers.]

I imagine she deserves that much.

[deadly_ned]

She deserves everything. More than I can give.

But compassion and honesty is a good start. Especially since I've never been completely honest with her.

Thank you.

[youwill]

I have often heard that there can be no love without true honesty. You are quite welcome, Ned.

[deadly_ned]

'Often heard'?

You've never been in love?

[youwill]

[He could play for pity. He could be brutally honest. He opts for vague.]

Briefly.

[deadly_ned]

Sorry. That was probably. Too personal a question.

[youwill]

Suffice it to say I was not as honest as I could have been.

[deadly_ned]

None of us are as honest as we could be. If everyone spoke exactly how they thought, no one would love anyone.

[youwill]

We would learn to love candor as we love lies.

[deadly_ned]

How much of yourself as people know you is a lie?

Most of me used to be one. It's a shock any of use is able to get close to each other based on how much we deceive ourselves and others.

[youwill]

Deception is a trick we play on ourselves without even realizing it. I try not to deceive myself.

[deadly_ned]

By always being honest?

[youwill]

As honest as is appropriate.

Is the you that you present now mostly a lie?

[deadly_ned]

No. I'm as bare of secrets as a shucked oyster. Everyone knows who I am and what I do.