teaspectre | IC CONTACT

[ Hey whoa, she said find, not talk to. She's practically twirling around him since she'd been so near the door when he came in-- and strutting right back into the kitchen with at least four cups in arms. ]

You still haven't said why. He's just a kid. And I'm -- Not .. dead anymore, but I still have my powers.

[Cups, of course she's got cups.]

Oh, for God's-- [He follows right after her, determined to talk.] Look, he's not just a kid. He's a werewolf, Annie. Or didn't you get that from his whole-- full moon and chickens thing.

Jesus, it's like amateur night.

[ Cups and toilet visits every hour now that she can drink them again. She'd never drunk so much tea before death, but new habits die hard, apparently. ]

Yeah, thanks I got that.

[ She's turning a frown over her shoulder at him, setting cups into the sink with irritated clinks. ]

And so what? George is a werewolf- Nina as well. And it wasn't like he was suddenly all gung-ho about keeping vampires away. But no, only one of the supernatural types are racist.

[ Oh she is fussy today. ]

[He stops to lean in the doorway, arms folded over his chest. He's far more agitated than that might suggest, but-- well. She's not going to just accept things blind. He knew that.]

This isn't racism, Annie. D'you really think I'd be telling you not t' talk to someone if it wasn't serious?

[He pushes away from the doorframe, drifts a few steps into the room, to get her attention.]

I love George. You know I do. He's my best friend, whatever that says about me. And I don't care that he's a werewolf. That's not what this is about. [Except it is.] Annie--I know this guy. I know his mental father. They're not people you want t' get mixed up with. Trust me.

[ She does at least pause what she's doing to watch him once he's closer. She's still frowning, of course, but listening. ]

Then how come he knows me? He seemed happy to see me- so clearly, at some point, I become friends with him.

[That's half of what's so maddening here. Or maybe the word is, really, worrying: because he doesn't know. Why the hell would Tom talk so familiarly to Annie, like he really knew her?

Because time goes on, one way or another. That's the only possible answer. And just how Mitchell figures into that--Annie's future, their future--the future of everyone at Honolulu Heights, which sometimes seems like it's balanced so fucking precariously--]

I don't know if I'd call it friends. He breaks into our house, first. That's how we first meet him. McNair comes after him--they live in a caravan out in the woods. And they stay for awhile.

[And Mitchell is still not happy about that. When he says McNair's name, it's like the man is stood in the room with them, making a gun with his fingers. Bang.]

I don't know what he wants with you here.

[ Her face, to his story's credit, does scrunch a little at the mention of breaking and entering. Not that they hadn't seen their fair share of weirdos since living together, but that did seem a bit ... iffy. ]

Hang on- he said his name was McNair. Do you mean like, his dad or something?

[ She turns around slightly, if just to put the electric kettle onto it's heater- then she's leaning against the counter with a look of perplexity. ]

Did he 'want' anything with me to begin with? Maybe we all end up friends after that. It's not like we've not had weirder first meetings with people. You moved into my house, for instance.

Yeah. His dad.

[and fuck that guy tbqh. Mitchell runs his fingers through his hair, on-edge about all of this--about Tom McNair himself, about the careful balance of telling these partial truths. And on top of that--what the hell does Tom want? What does he know? If he's from some point beyond them, beyond even Mitchell-- And who the fuck is Hal?]

And we don't end up as friends. He and his dad clear out pretty quick, and if they end up coming back-- [Someone's going to get you. Not if he gets them first.] It wouldn't be good.

[Oh, and also, a little insulted--] We moved into your house, we didn't break in and-- invade. Dead of night and some guy coming through the front door like he owned the place.

[ Mitchell you are the biggest worry wart of paranoia that has ever existed holy shit sit down and drink some tea. Why do you think she put the kettle on. ]

Why wouldn't it be good? Do they try and- I don't know, throw you out because you're a vampire living with werewolves? And a ghost.

[ Cups cups cups. Setting two cups down oh gosh she still fancies over the fact that she can actually drink tea with him- angsty moment aside. ]

It was still my home and you two came barging in. [ She sniffs. ] I only let you stay because you could actually see and hear me.

And 'cause we were already paying rent on the place, and then 'cause you loved us.

[The timeline of events. Mitchell, briefly, misses George, who would have given a shrieky protest by now and who would back him, unquestioningly, about keeping far away from weirdo werewolves who go about in caravans looking for packs. Or at least he'd be more pliable, whereas Annie--

Christ. Mitchell stares down at the teacups.]

And he wouldn't throw me out. He'd stake me. McNair, and his kid-- they hunt vampires.

[A wolf-shaped bullet, John.]

He wouldn't stake you. George wouldn't have let them- Nina wouldn't. Heck, I wouldn't.

[ The water bubbles behind her and she whips around to pull the kettle to the cups, pouring in and over the little baggies of Earl and English Breakfast. ]

If that's what you're worried about, then you should just relax. I'm pretty sure with a city full of heroes, no one is going to get away with trying to stake anyone.

I'm not worried, not about him. He's not exactly difficult to outsmart.

[Sorry (not sorry) but it's true. Mitchell picks up one of the mugs and rubs his thumb against it, buying himself a second of time.]

But I don't trust him. And you shouldn't either.

I think. [ And takes her own mug in hand, warming it between her fingers for the time being. ] You're being irrational.

Over protective, and a little bit rude. It's unrealistic. People from the same world are going to stick together- it's what happens. So if he's not a threat, then you've just disproved your reason for my avoiding him.

Annie, come on.

[He reaches out to grab for her hand, trying to hold it in his own--like this is somehow going to get her to take him more seriously, or at least pay attention.]

I'm not messing about. Not with this. I mean it. At least let me talk to him first, yeah? I'm not saying he's not a threat. I'm saying we don't know what he wants. And there's only one way t' find that out. Come on, you know I wouldn't be just sayin' this if it wasn't serious.

[ Her lips are pursed and she's sucking in a fortified breath- but the hand on hers does make her loosen the tension just a little. Enough to turn her head and self rationalize. He did have sort of a point. ]

Fine, yes. You can talk to him first- but I'm not going to just write him off. He's a kid, and I am not gonna leave him alone in this city. Especially not after living in a caravan in the woods- his dad's not even here for him.

... Is he?

Jesus, I hope not.

[He better not be, is really what he means, but he's already said too much. Not going to tell her about the whole trying-to-get-McNair-into-a-dogfight-to-get-him-out-of-the-way.]

He's not a kid. He can take care of himself.

He is a kid Mitchell. He barely looks like he's over eighteen. And I know I'm sort of stuck at twenty two but you've got no excuse. You can have your prior arranged aggression toward him, but it's not going to magically make me start hating him.

Or make me ignore him.

[ And yes, best to leave that out. Unless you want to have a come clean pow-wow. There are probably a few things Annie should share, but who wants to do that, anyway. ]

[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?

yas

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