[Hannibal isn't one to advertise when he is thrown. He wakes in the morning and sorts things out, so that when he does come on screen later in the day, he's every inch as put together as he was when last he was seen up and about.

Or so he thinks. He's actually wearing this get up as if it was the most natural thing in the world.]

That was rather impromptu for a nap.

[He may be dryer than usual. It's really just so hard to tell.]

I believe there are festivities waiting for us in the gym. It would be a shame not to indulge, so close to Christmas. Perhaps there will even be some small wonders. I've come to realize you never really know, here.

[Private to Alana]

How have you found the Barge thus far? [Hi 8) What do you know 8|]

[Private to the Admiral]

A beginner's cook book for everyone, if you please. Worded appropriately simply for those that require it.

For Alana, her private reserve of beer, from my home. [Lass beer is delicious beer, after all.]

I would like hunting clothes, for Abigail. Camouflage shirt, vest, and waders. And a hat.

David ought to have cooking supplies. His book should be much more advanced.

For Ned, some sausage for Digby, and a new set of kitchen towels.

Happy Christmas.