Lucrezia

Bond had been following Allen for days since he'd found out the man had loose lips. He wasn't sure if he'd actually given up specific details about John Grey, damning the man to be burned and disavowed or if what he had said had lead someone else to the right avenue. Bond needed to know, though. So he had doggedly followed the man, bent on knowing all he could.

Which was why he had followed him today to the hotel, watching him as he clearly went to meet the tart he'd been seeing. Bond honestly had little to say about who the man fucked, though if he would cheat on someone as kind as Lucrezia he was clearly an asshole.

What Bond did not expect as he entered the cafe across the street to wait for the man was Lucrezia herself. Bond saw an opportunity and he took it, asking the host to be seated near her. As the man lead him to the empty table Bond smiled at her.

"Lucrezia, what a surprise," he said. "May I join you? I do hate to dine alone."

Hannibal

Bond received perks and bonuses through the office all the time, often because there was some "diplomatic" reason for him to go to an event. So when Tanner had approached him with two tickets to the opera to watch not the show but the Syrian ambassador Bond had smiled and agreed. When he saw that it was I due Foscari he smiled to himself. Normally he would take Q and make a romantic night of it but Q was not his first thought. For a tragedy of this magnitude he thought of only one person.

He thought of Hannibal.

The man knew what he was, what he did. That took the pressure off about the addition of a bit of work. Bond rang him up to invite him and agreed to meet early for drinks. The show was at 7:30 and they'd agreed to a late dinner. Bond was more than happy to wait and have Hannibal cook for him. If amuses made from leftovers were any indication, the night would be a treat all around.