teaspectre | IC CONTACT

[no come clean pow-wow at this time please and thank you]

I'm not saying you have to hate anyone, I was--

[--Hoping that she would trust him and start to hate Tom all on her own, by his recommendation alone? Maybe sort of that's what he was hoping for, yes. There's still time.

It's fear for his own life that motivates him. But it's also a fear of what they don't know. If Tom McNair really comes from their future--if there really is a time when he gets to be friends with Annie, where they have ice cream soda dates--Christ, how does it come to that? He doesn't know that he wants to know. He definitely doesn't want Annie to know.]

Look, I'm not trying t' be the bad guy here. Just let me talk to him first. All right? And then you can make all the tea that you want for him, I swear.

[ YES. AHA, SEE? Exactly what she thought. Sneaky little vampire brat. There are very, very few people that Annie hate. One of them is locked up in a jail cell, the other is six doors down from Hell. Anything else is just a strong dislike.

Tough luck. ]

Hm. Well I already said you could have first go at him.

[ She sips at her tea almost pointedly, eyes on her friend still because he's putting up such a fuss about this, really. ]

... On a slightly related note, we really need to talk about your bedside manner anytime I decide to talk to someone on the network.

[well yes she did say that, and later he's going to wish that he'd added Hal bloody Yorke to the list of People Mitchell Gets To Have First Go At but

for now

he just picks up his tea with a slight scowl, and takes a very quick sip. it burns his tongue a little and does not taste anything like whisky. it might help if it did--not that the tea is bad; the tea is the exact opposite of bad. just. Jesus Christ, this is all so very headache inducing.]

I don't know what you're talking about.

[ There's a long, deliberate sip of her tea, eyes staring over the rim of her cup. Right at u, Mitchell. ]

I think you do.

Oh, for Christ's--

[ANNIE, and he slumps back in his chair, sets his teacup down on the tabletop with a bit of force--more exasperated than anything else.]

I'm not stalking you. This place is just-- half the people here are mentals, and then there's the government, which is even worse. Anything could happen. And then you've got-- [Lycos] --people, like Tom McNair--

Annie, I just don't want anything to happen t' you.

I never said you were stalking me. ... Although now that you mention it-- [ No, Annie, that's not what you're here to talk about. ] But isn't that just as bad as what was back home? I mean- with the vampires and such.

I'll be fine. I may not be dead anymore, but it isn't like I haven't got powers anymore. And of all of them, I know how to do this without any issue.

[ And in a short snap of reality, Annie disappears from her spot across from him in the kitchen, and ends up seated in the chair adjacent to him in only an instant. ]

Dunno if we can keep calling it Rent-A-Ghosting though if I'm not a ghost.

[Even though he's used to Annie's sudden appearances and disappearances--just another of the many tricks a ghost has got; even before he lived with Annie, he knew that trick for a fact--but having her appear warm beside him, living, in whatever way that she's living--

That's a little startling, enough to get him to blink and shift his gaze quickly away from her--maybe even a little guilty, in the expression that crosses his face. But he's quick to push that away, and any of the thoughts that go with it--quick to try and smooth out his expression, get over whatever thoughts came so suddenly to his head.]

And what about the collars. What about when you couldn't do anything, when you were trapped, Annie. D'you remember that?

I had to lose you once. I'm not losing you again. [He realises, then: maybe he's said too much. But he can't take it back. Not that.] We don't know the first thing about this place. Jesus, Annie--they made it so you're not a ghost anymore. How the hell do they do that? There's power here that we don't know, or understand--it wasn't the vampires that I was keepin' you two safe from, it was the power that they had. That's what we have t' look out for.

[ If he looks guilty, she doesn't catch it. Too busy absorbing in her own mind (and trying to pad up the slight spill of tea she'd made upon 're-entry' to the chair she was now sat in.

Except then he's bringing up a fairly valid point and she has to concede just a little. From her own (slightly) guilty expression, she does in fact, remember the collars. And what it had meant being strapped in one. But it's only so far she can let him go, with his worrying and fussing. ]

You're not-- Look. I understand, really, I do, that you're worried I'm going to get hurt. But I'm not stupid. I'm not going to go walking into trouble just like that. I'm allowed to have a life while we're here. Especially since I'm stuck with one again. If you're that worried about whatever's going on here, then let's figure it out together. You can't keep me on a metaphorical leash just because you're worried something's going to happen and-- [ Wait, hang on. ]

What did you mean 'lost me once'? Where've I gone?

[Reluctant to let this go, Mitchell is shaking his head before she's even halfway through that.]

Look, I'm not saying you're stupid. I'm not saying you can't live your life--Jesus, no one's more happy for you than I am! All the things you get t' do now. What I'm saying is, things happen, Annie, and they're going to happen to you.

[And then she asks, just like he knew that she was going to. He never should have said so much in the first place. And he doesn't want to answer, he doesn't want to get into this, but--]

What's the last thing you remember, Annie. Before you came here. What's the absolute last thing that you remember?

[ She'd argue his 'things are going to happen' because it's still up to chance, it's not a guaranteed thing- but this seems slightly more pressing in the scheme of things.

Or curiosity is winning it's war against rationale. ]

I told you. I was in Kemp's facility, with the Medium, in my room. He was just telling a story and then next thing I know, I'm waking up in the big entry room.

[Steadily, he nods--leaned forward now, forearms resting on the table and fingers knit loosely together. The tea stands unattended now, steaming gently as it loses heat.]

I remember that. And I remember what came after. [This isn't easy to say, but he's got to say it now. And if it convinces her toward caution--so much the better, then, right?] Kemp wasn't just killing werewolves, Annie. He was trying t' get rid of all of the supernaturals.

He exorcised you. He had you dragged into Purgatory.

[ To her credit, she does give him her full attention. Mitchell might be an excessive worrier, especially lately, but she still trusted him over anyone else in this strange world.

So when he gives his reasoning, his attempt to caution her further, she looks less surprised and more ... drawn in. Was it a touch of guilt written across her face? ]

... I asked him to.

[Mitchell just-- stares at her. And there's a long moment of silence. Or maybe it's not so long as all that, maybe it just seems long.

All he's thinking of is the tear of Annie's departure. The feeling of it--so visceral it was like getting run through with a fucking bayonet, and it just went on, and on--]

What?

[It's all he can manage, eventually. He's still staring at her. There's a numb feeling in the tips of his fingers, like his hands have fallen asleep.]

You asked who?

[ It's a bit of a feat, keeping her eyes on the table and not wandering elsewhere- anywhere but at him. She flexes her grip on her own mug of tea; they've both forgotten theirs. ]

I asked Kemp. Not- Not then, but earlier, when he came to the house to see George and Nina. --They didn't know about it. I. Told George I was going to keep him company. I asked if Kemp could get my door back for me- He said he exorcised spirits, so I thought he could help me, too.

[Mitchell goes on staring at her, his fingers curled into fists. What she's saying, what she's taking credit for--she can't mean it. She can't have done that.]

You'd planned it? You were-- When were you going to tell us that's what you were doing? Jesus, Annie-- why did you ask us?

[ It's upsettingly true, however. Maybe not the bit about how she changed her mind after seeing Kemp storm in in a furious rage, ready to sent her beyond. That hadn't happened yet.

She licks her lips instead of blurting out an answer. ]

I ... wasn't going to say anything. [ A breath. ] You-- You were rarely home anymore, hadn't been for weeks, and if George and Nina turned human again- and I know they didn't, you told me -but if they did I wouldn't ... have anyone. I'd just be alone and I couldn't do that again. I didn't want to have to see them and have them not be able to hear me anymore. It was my choice.

[It's hard to think back, to remember why he'd hardly been home--not because he does not remember, or cannot, but because he doesn't want to. To think that he was so uninvolved, so caught up in--]

You'd have had me, Annie. You'd have had me. There was so much going on, at the time, but you know-- You shouldn't have made that choice. You shouldn't have had to have made that choice!

You were barely home anymore! [ No, no shouting. ] The last time I saw you, you were- drunk in the kitchen making disgusting comments about me, threatening George-- I know George didn't let me think about it at the time, but you were blood drunk, weren't you?

We left and that was ... it. And just before that I'd seen my mum, and it gave me so much perspective- I wanted it to be over. You were too busy dating "Lucy".

[Lucy. Mitchell looks away, quickly, his face contorting as he shoves his fingers through his hair, rakes it back away from his face and stands, to pace away from the little table. As if his face wasn't already contorted at blood drunk--but all of that, all of it is so tied up with Lucy Jaggert, with the keen stab of anger and betrayal. The explosion at the funeral parlor, Ivan's weight slamming into him mere seconds before. Saving his fucking life. And it had all made such sense at the time. They had to pay. They had to answer for what they had done, the hole that they had ripped in the world. Bodies for bodies; eye for bloody eye.

But Annie--]

But you'd changed your mind.

[He doesn't answer any of the rest of it. Just a few steps off, and he turns to look at her, searching.]

Before he did it. You'd changed your mind, you were going to stay.

[ Mmmmmm that is a nice cup of tea she's got there. Even if by the time Mitchell is up and out of his seat, she can't help but keep a worried, watchful eye on each pacing stride he makes. Honestly she feels a bit like a scolded child. Why was that? Because he was technically 'older'? ]

Why would I do that?

[ Not that she sounds in denial or anything- but genuinely curious. She knew it had all gone ... a bit sour with Kemp, but had it really been so obtuse that she'd changed her deadset decision? ]

Or was it ... That I didn't get a chance when all of that - that stuff happened?

I don't know. When it happened-- I wasn't there.

[He stares at her a moment longer, and then looks away, looks down at the floor between them. He's thinking of the room in the facility, the green undersea lighting of the place. The sticky blood on his face and hands, and Lucy, trapped against the wall. And then the punch of that feeling, the stab so strong he can remember it now. He pushes his fingers through his hair.]

But I felt it. I felt you go. And you didn't want it, I know you didn't.

[A beat of silence. When he'd saved her from Purgatory, she had been so happy. He can still remember the pressure of her arms around him, the sound of her voice in the long, long hallway. He looks up at Annie again.]

Would you go now? If you could?

[ It's strange, how she's curious that he felt it, felt her leave the world of the living... And yet she doesn't feel the need to question it. Like it's some unspoken instinct that just is. Or was, in this case. Would have been. If Kemp had been trying to kill George and Nina ... maybe it had all come to a head and she'd changed her mind. It could make sense.

But why Kemp would still try and exorcise her? How would he even know where she was if Mitchell had come in to bust them all out? Surely he'd have had his hands full with that.

The question is both understandable and unexpected, all at once. ]

... I dunno. I suppose, realistically, no. I've got you here, and it's not like people can't see and hear me anymore- I mean if I were still dead and I couldn't interact with anyone, then maybe.

[ She's back to looking at the now almost cooled mug of tea. A sip garners the tiniest of grimaces. Not hot enough anymore. ]

[Mitchell shoves away from where he's standing and crosses the room so he can sink back into his chair, grabbing for her hands.]

Annie. Look at me. No matter what happened--no matter what happens--you can't leave. You can't give up like that. I need you. We, we need you. I've lived over a hundred years, and losing you was the worst thing I've ever felt, in all that long time. Nothing's as bad as that was.

Dead, or alive. You're the best thing we've got. You're better than any of us. [Nina, George, Mitchell. Especially Mitchell. He squeezes her hands.] We need you.

[ CRIES INTO HANDS-- No, she's not doing that ~~I AM~~. She's watching him hold her own hands until coaxed upward. She's never been shy of eye contact, but it was still somehow stomach twisting. In a way that wasn't entirely awful.

And yet his confession leaves her almost sympathetic, tsking in that gentle way of hers and giving his chilled fingers a squeeze in return. Had it really been so awful? Not that she didn't think being shoved into Purgatory against her will was anything to be glad about, but having him feel it... It was almost worse than her own issues. So she smiles a little instead, moving just enough to lace fingers with one of his hands. ]

Maybe not Nina. But. [ She takes a breath, not entirely steadying. ] You don't have to worry about it now, alright? I don't want to go anywhere- trust me. I've got you- and a few blooming friends here. And gods, it's Florida. What's not to like?

[ Plus the whole. You know. Being alive, thing. ]

[No, definitely better than Nina. But Mitchell keeps that opinion to himself (for now). It's easy to do when she's got her fingers wound through his. That familiar comforting presence, the press of her hand--even if it lacks its usual chill--that's nearly better than her promise to stay.]

Yeah. I know.

[The whole being alive thing puts a kibbosh on any crossing-over anyways, but, still. He drops his eyes to where their fingers are twisted together.]

Just-- if you start thinking like that. You tell me, all right? [Wryly, he bunches his mouth at the corner, in something very much like a smirk.] I mean, it's only Florida. It's not that great.

IC CONTACT

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)