mogget_cat | OOM: New Orleans with Hannibal and Jim

An optimist might say the day upon the other side of the door is balmy, but only because it's a little too early in the afternoon for it to be called sultry.

And only a little too early. Already halfway down its trek across the sky, the sun's great heat is partially mitigated by the sea-scented breeze off the Gulf and the shade of decorated balconies. Groups of people walk along Bourbon Street in front of the small alleyway in which the door from Milliways appears. The alley entrance is somewhat sheltered from the street by a fire-escape so none notice three dapper gentlemen arriving from nowhere. Faint conversations and laughter and the mingling strains of lively music reach them, and the varied smells of a port city known for its cuisine.

Yrael's green eyes glance up at the roof-edges for a moment as they enter, a half-smile on his face, before he turns to his guests. "Welcome to New Orleans."

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"Restaurant August has provided me with enjoyable meals without fail," Yrael assures them, "though any good meal can be made better by company."

The hostess is good enough to politely ignore any inappropriate smiles from diners, leading the three of them through to one of the private dining rooms thoroughly divorced from the main dining areas. Like much of the restaurant, the room is wreathed in golds and creams and warm brown tones. The sliding doors are dark wood and glass etched in a golden lattice pattern, allowing for privacy and shutting out the sounds of the larger dining rooms behind them and the kitchens somewhere down a hall to the side. The lone table is set for three, the leather of their chairs dark in contrast to the honey-toned wood of the dining table.

The hostess smiles and invites them to sit, pouring ice water for each of them. "Chef Augustin will be with you shortly. Please enjoy your evening."

Jim thanks her with another inappropriate smile - if she's going to ignore them, that's what she gets - and waits until they're alone before eyeing up the room properly.

'Nice. A man could get up to all sorts in here.'

Not that he's saying he should, or will. He's just saying.

"Most suitable," Hannibal says, after thanking the hostess. "A place to pay a meal the attention it deserves."

"Yes," Yrael grins, wryly, taking a seat with idle grace. "I prefer to limit unwanted distractions and interruptions, when the option is available."

Out in the main dining room, it's noisy and more crowded. The smells of the food would mix with those of the people, and there's sure to be at least one person with too much cologne or perfume, and someone is likely to recognize the locally famous musician and interrupt the meal, perhaps even with good intentions, or someone will mutter some unkind remark about mutants thinking they're as good as actual people just within earshot, which would necessitate a small change of plans later in the evening....

"Better to enjoy one's time on one's own terms, as much as that is possible."

However outside the lines of typical civilization they may be, none of them are at complete liberty.

Unfortunately true, as much as he likes to think otherwise. Intelligence services and the police are so boringly dogged in some respects.

He would also quite like someone to start making rude remarks, because that sort of thing definitely can't go unpunished. But in the absence of people being rude, he'll settle for drinking more alcohol and letting the food experts ruminate over what's on offer.

"Some interruptions need not be tolerated," Hannibal agrees, looking around. "And we are all willing to pay the necessary price."

Shortly after the hostess leaves them to get settled, the head chef emerges from the side hallway leading to the kitchens. A pale-eyed and weathered man with salt-and-pepper hair, Chef Augustin Mouton greets them with robust good cheer, introducing himself and welcoming the three of them as one might greet guests invited into one's own home.

There are many culinary delights to choose from, it turns out, as Chef Augustin introduces the list of that day's catches from the Gulf that might in turn catch their interest and suit their tastes: grouper and pompano, flounder and snapper, tunny and striped bass, scallops and oysters. The easy availability and sheer variety of fresh fish to be had in New Orleans is not the least of Yrael's favorite things about the city.

"We came wanting to introduce a friend to the delights of the local cuisine," Yrael tells the chef, who smiles understandingly.

Edited Date: 2016-07-22 09:43 pm (UTC)

Jim eyes the chef with his head leant back against his seat. His name reminds him of someone, which is enough for him to take a dislike to the man. Not a serious one, just less receptive to his manner than he was with the hostess and bartender.

'Do you have jambalaya on?' he asks lazily, taking a drink.

'Or is not ordering fish enough to get me strung up?'

His two companions might do it, perhaps. There's probably something less refined about a Creole dish versus fresh fish, but Jim's never cared much for what he's supposed to do.

"I, on the other hand, would quite like to try some striped mullet, if you have any," Hannibal says, smiling politely at the chef.

"Oh, there is always jambalaya, sir," The chef assures Jim with an easy and friendly smile. He doesn't say that it wouldn't be a Creole restaurant if they didn't have jambalaya. The chef had simply listed the special options first, for the favored guests of the chef's own private dining room, rather than what tourists could find at any restaurant in the city.

But don't get him wrong. Never fear, the fish will also be cooked in fine Creole tradition. There is no versus. Not in the heart of New Orleans. His eyes just... may or may not be silently judging Felix White's friend from behind his friendly and professional smile. "Or crawfish etouffee if you'd like, as they are in season. Our etouffee is one of our most popular dishes. With the mild Spring, has been a very good year for getting fresh crawfish sourced locally."

"We do indeed have mullet, sir," the chef then replies to Hannibal. "Caught today, brought fresh from the market. A wonderful choice."

"I thought I saw some particularly healthy mullets earlier, on the way here," Yrael says mildly, sipping his drink.

The chef protests, shaking his head. "Oh, sir, if they're still out at the market at this time of evening, they're sure not worth having, however they might look."

"You're probably right," Yrael admits, smiling. "You can't go wrong with pompano, so I think I will have that, this evening."

"Excellent choice, sir," smiles Chef Augustin. "I thought perhaps Oysters Bienville, a recipe invented here in this very city, nearly a century ago, and salad of roast heirloom beets and carrots, to start with?"

Jim's eyes narrow ever so slightly as he surveys the man. It's not judgement, so much as...something else.

'Jambalaya,' he says, with deceptive calm.

'You can surprise me as to what you put in it.'

He won't complain about oysters to start, even if he only likes them when he's in the mood.

"Excellent," Hannibal says, smiling at the chef. "Those are wonderful suggestions that I am happy to go with. I am sure your mullet will be much tastier and fresher than those we saw."

"I can assure you it will be," the chef replies, with the easy security of one who knows his craft.

There are details to any meal that must be settled in advance - what dishes to have and how they should be prepared, which wines to have with what dishes, et cetera - but soon they are all hashed out, the chef returns to the kitchen which is his domain, and the diners are provided with Oysters Bienville and an accompanying wine to introduce their meal. Each oyster is served on the half-shell, having been baked while topped with a mixture consisting of a butter roux, sherry, mushrooms, bell peppers, a mild cheese, and shrimp. The oysters are served on small, silvery trays in the shape of a mollusc, with each oyster supported in an indentation along the shell's inner edge as though it were a pearl.

"My friends, I must thank you again for accompanying me this evening," Yrael says, taking up his glass of wine. "It is rare that I get to show off my chosen city and I very much enjoy the opportunity."

'Appreciate the invitation. Thank you.'

Jim lifts his glass too, lazy and languid in his chair. The food looks good, there's a party on the streets, and the company is made up of his kind of people. He has no complaints.

"We have to thank you, indeed," Hannibal says, lifting his glass, and then drinking. "To our charming host and his city!"

Yrael is a decent actor, but even he has difficulty managing to look modest, so he doesn't generally bother. His look, instead, is appreciative.

"It is all the better when shared with compelling company," he replies, lifting his drink. "To an enjoyable night."

Jim tilts his in silent toast, and drinks. It's always better to attempt oysters with alcohol and while talking, otherwise he thinks too much about the way they actually taste.

But yeah, compelling company. He wonders what, if anything, the others might be compelled to by the end of the night - it's not as though he's unaware of some specific tastes between them - but to hell with it, he's here for a good time. He can always amuse himself if they decide to go off for a late supper.

'Stop me if I drink too much,' he says with a grin, and twirls a fork in his hand to get started on dinner.

'I'll never manage to stay as polite as you two otherwise.'

This isn't quite true. Jim has excellent manners, in the sense that he can be utterly polite and charming as he fucks up someone's situation. But it's a veneer he's happy to shed, if necessary - and of course he is also aware that he could be seen as the odd one out in the party. So it's just a friendly heads-up, mainly aimed at Hannibal. Don't get any ideas, friend.

"There are times for when the gloves come off," Hannibal agrees. "And those when, on the other hand, they go on."

He smiles as he sips his drink.

"And there are people who matter more than what manners they show," Yrael remarks, amused. He has met both Will Graham and Sherlock Holmes. Everyone has an exception to their rule.

"So long as one does not jeopardize the place I have made for myself in this world, I care not what mask or face one chooses to wear." It's all masks to him. Politeness isn't an issue. Threatening what he has built for himself would be an issue.

The oysters are, in true New Orleans fashion, delicious.

Jim has no desire to mess up Yrael's place here. He likes Yrael, and that happens rarely enough to be worth hanging on to.

Oysters. Eh. It's actually not the taste he objects to, it's the texture, but he has issues with sensory things at times. He eats them anyway, because, manners.

'Do either of you know Ava, in the bar?'

He knows Hannibal does. He doesn't expect him to deny it, but he only asks direct questions when there's nothing to be gained from seeing what people say to an indirect one.

"I do," Hannibal says, after slowly ingesting the first oyster in silence.

Yrael also tries the oysters while he thinks on the question. He is a fastidious eater no matter what his shape.

"Ava... Ava Wilson?" He replies, hesitantly. "If it is the same Ava, then yes. We fought together the day Milliways was unmade and then restored. She is quite useful in battle."

Not everyone can get demons to twist their own heads off.

'Is she?'

Interesting.

'What's her story?'

"From a modern world with lots of hidden demons, devils, and supernatural shenanigans," Hannibal says.

"With her own connection to those hidden demons, devils, and supernatural shenanigans," Yrael says, sipping his wine. "I had never seen so many demons suddenly inclined to break their own necks and gouge out their own eyes."