Dr. Hannibal Lecter

Ah hello, ladies and gentlemen. [Hannibal smiles urbanely, flashing a set of very sharp teeth dominated by curved fangs he's still sorting out how to speak around. His eyes have become staring and ophidian, which troubles him less than whatever is flopping around a bit clumsily in the background.]

It seemss that I too have been graciously equipped for the exploration of this peculiar Port. Unfortunately the same attributes are a bit inconvenient on land. My apologies to my neighbors for any [crash thump, mild wince] ...noise.

On the other hand I should be able to provide a formidable escort for your seafaring adventures. [He lifts his tail, which is serpentine except for the flattened end, and is a vivid black and white stripe like something out of a Tim Burton movie.]

...Dr. Lewis, would you care to play guess-the-species?

Ah yes, also. Once we're again underway, I'd like to host a salon in my suite. For those not familiar, a salon in the traditional style is an elegant gathering meant as much to educate as to entertain. Art, literature, ethics, philosophy, entertainment, and all aspects of our varied cultures are the sort of topics generally up for discussion. Light refreshments will be served; I am taking requests. I will also be looking for individuals to perform readings, lectures, and similar, instrumental music you would like to have played, and ideas on what people who attend would like to learn more about.

[His tail flops illustratively and knocks over a lamp. He sighs softly.]

At any rate, all are welcome who do not cause trouble. Kindly RSVP by the end of the week if you are interested.

[fairly liberal friends list]
Checking in. I do hope no one's become half jellyfish.

[warden filter]
Well. No point letting being turned part reptile keep me from doing some badly-needed housekeeping.

With Dr. Crane having left, I am as far as I know the only Warden currently qualified to make psychiatric prescriptions. I would like to volunteer to step into his role on the Barge, as well as providing general Infirmary support. I have been volunteering during crises, but it is time I take on some more formal responsibilities.

I will of course be continuing my work on breakfast shift, including the odd cooking lessons. Therefore I will make myself available for afternoon and overnight Infirmary shifts.

Mark Lilly and I have decided to collaborate on providing more comprehensive psychological services to Inmates and Wardens alike. Those interested in assisting, or receiving services, please let us know. At the moment our scope of ability only includes more mundane early twenty-first century Earth human options such as talk therapy, hypnosis, exposure therapy and medication, and I would greatly appreciate the chance to expand on that. Mr. Pinkman, if you are interested in joining forces on some level as well, you are invited to do ssssso *cough* so.

[private to Sandoval]
I have a proposition for you. [He's mildly worried, dude.]

[Hannibal hums to himself placidly, a bit of a Mozart concerto, though oddly he can't remember which one right now. There is a smear of blood across his cheek, but it isn't his, so he'll ignore it until it starts to itch and then dab it away daintily with his pocket handkerchief.]

[The Cards tried to capture him as soon as he offboarded. He managed to avoid both capture and getting speared, but he has bruises on his face and body from where they did their best to subdue him. He bolted for the high grass. Two made the mistake of going after him. They chased him for over a mile before he found a spot dense enough that he wouldn't be disturbed. Then, the chase ended.]

[Blood and bits of armor litter the ground as he finishes making experimental sculpture from their remains. One has been turned into a grotesque fairy with butterfly wings made from ribcage and lungs; the other is draped garland-style over a mushroom's cap. Their cheeks are cut free and missing--but the resulting meal was disappointingly bland.]

[He looks up from paring a few last bits off his decorations, hearing someone coming. His eyes glitter and he melts into the underbrush to wait for them. He's not hungry anymore. But the next one to threaten him is going to die a great deal more slowly and poetically than the two Cards.]