One of God's children

"Hey, you've reached Mitchell. Leave a message after the beep, I'll get back as soon as I can."

Beep.

"...Now this here is your room, isn't that fantastic? I think there's a game of Buckaroo downstairs-- one of the other guests must have left it behind."

"Buckafuckingroo?"

The surly teenager standing before George gave him a look that went beyond disbelief. George, being George (and being rather preoccupied with sorting out the boy's sheets) did not let that throw him off his stride. "Yes," he said, decidedly. "It's a fantastic game for two to eight players-- oh, forget it, I'm just trying to think of things to keep you occupied."

... so yes, George handled it exactly like George Sands would.

"I can keep myself occupied," the little vampire said, sighing, and sat down on the bed.

It took a few moments before that one made it through to George's brain, but as soon as it did, he dropped the pillow. "Oh god, you're a teenage boy, of course you can." Ew ew ew ew ew.

"Hello!"

George had never been that happy to see Annie before.

"Don't you ever knock?" the boy - Adam - said, eyeballing Annie.

"Oh, I don't have to, being a ghost has some perks," Annie said. She had a smile on her face, her hips shifting a little as she spoke.

"Well, not around me, I don't want ghosts popping up all over the place, it freaks me out," Adam complained.

"You're a forty-six year old vampire," George pointed out, taking a moment to eyeball Adam right back, "who dresses like a child. Don't call her freaky."

"Anyway," Annie said, clearing her throat, "I'm just stopping by to see how you boys are getting on."

"Badly," George said.

Adam leaned over and kicked him.

George nearly toppled over, spun around on one foot, balanced precariously on it for several moments before setting it down on the floor and letting go of a belated, "Ow!"

He pointed a finger at Adam. "He just kicked me!" he shrieked. "I-- Annie! Tell him off!"

The look Annie gave him made it clear that this was not the most mature, manly thing she had ever heard George declare, but also that it wasn't exactly in the running for the least mature, manly thing he had ever said.

George sighed. "I need to call Mitchell," he said. "Again. He's still not answering his phone."

"You've left ten messages," Annie pointed out. "Maybe it's time we tried something else."

"Yeah," George said, rubbing the back of his head and giving Adam the stink-eye. "But who else do we know who knows anything about vampires--"

His eyes met Annie's eyes.

"Right," George said, and dashed-slash-stumbled-slash-flailed his way out the door towards the phone.

[[ for he who has been handwavily summoned here, and myself. Parts taken from Being Human 3x01: Adam's Family ]]

It had taken Mitchell time to track down Daisy. He had only set off to do it after the first rushes of joy at Annie's return had faded - really, he'd rather not have done it, but he knew a deal when he heard one.

And Lia had been very... specific.

Now, though, he had a good lead on where she was. It'd be something of a drive - an hour or two out - but the vampire he'd shaken up for it had been very clear. So. Now the question remained:

How do you tell an old friend that the beyond had it in for you? And how do you get them to listen?

Especially when they were Daisy.

So, walking back into the house that morning, Mitchell chose a technique that would let him handle it.

Procrastination.

"Oh. Reruns."

[[ open for phone calls! ]]

Most of the people Mitchell knew on-island had long since left it - and even if they hadn't, the joy of Annie's return would have ensured that he hadn't exactly been paying attention to any shenanigans going on at the island. Instead, he was crashed out on the sofa in the living room, watching some new reality show on the telly.

Annie was sitting primly... in the other room; they had taken some time to find her a place, but she seemed quite happy there-- here, now.

So all had ended well.

You know. As long as Mitchell chose not to think about the little errand Lia had given him in purgatory. Which he did. With great abandon.

He lit another cigarette and sat back with his beer.

[[ for a very frustrated succubus... ]]

"...Mitchell, why are we on a train?"

Mitchell opened his eyes.

Flickering lights, dark windows, a stark sense of death and decay-- they weren't on a train. They'd boarded the site of a tragedy... and he had a vague idea why. He wished he didn't. "It's... I don't know," he admitted. "I didn't do this."

But someone he knew had.

( He walked past the rows of seats... (Cut for some gore.) )

"Mitchell!"

Then there was darkness...

A long corridor...

And Annie, running at him, throwing her arms around his neck...

...and then the ocean, crashing into the shore of Barry Island.

[[ and done. NFB, NFI, OOC-okay, and severely adapted from Being Human 3x01. ]]

The light faded, and Mitchell was left... with a corridor.

Dirty, muddy, dilapidated, lined with doors with tiny windows, and so little sunlight... or whatever passed for light in here.

"Annie?" he called, but there was no response, and no one to meet him here.

So he began to walk, testing doors, catching glimpses of ancient history before he slammed the door straight shut on it again. There were flashes, occasionally - of a petite brunette girl in a flowery dress, looking at him, unreadable.

"Hello--?"

But she'd vanish, again and again, leaving him stranded here with his memories.

"Annie?"

[[ day 1, and altered from Being Human 3x01! NFB & NFI, obviously, as it's purgatory. ]]

The mural stretched along the entirety of one living room wall. There were palm trees on it, a beach, some sea, a nice blue sky.

It was not exactly Michelangelo.

Still, it had a certain... something.

The real estate agent blabbing away in the background took away some of the ambiance, but Mitchell wasn't interested in her at all. Until...

"So it's the three of you, is it?"

He looked up. "A friend will be joining us later," he said.

( 'That's...' George attempted, then immediately gave up on it, his pointed finger still sticking overeagerly, a bit sheepishly up in the air. )

Half an hour later, Mitchell was sending out distracted change-of-address text messages, and the place was, for all intents and purposes, theirs.

[[ open, chiefly for one, but also for any phone calls and so on. taken from Being Human 3x01. ]]

"You've got some fucking nerve," Nina growled. Blonde, tiny Nina, who had to reach pretty far up high to kiss George-- she had Lucy by the throat up against the wall, and she did not look happy.

It was fairly understandable, if you asked Mitchell. Though he wasn't sure he could stand here through Lucy's pleading.

"Is your friend with you?" she snapped.

( She came here on her own, Nina. )

---

( Do you... trust her? )

---

( He brought Lucy a pillow and his old jacket for a blanket. 'Here. There's milk and bread and stuff in the fridge.' )

[[ to be finished tomorrow, since it's a whole lot to write up in one day. NFB, NFI, OOC-okay, and taken and only slightly tweaked from Being Human 2x8! ]]

All right, the holiday season was officially here, so Mitchell couldn't put this off any longer.

He was going back to Wales to celebrate Christmas and New Years with George and Nina. A small affair. It wouldn't be festive. Not... too festive, anyway. Annie's death-- vanishing was still too fresh on everyone's minds, and Nina was too dedicated to her search to really let up the severe attitude for more than a moment.

Still, especially with Jack and Kate gone, there wasn't anywhere else he wanted to be for the holidays. So he messaged Bo handwavily that he'd be out of town for a couple of days starting today, and started packing up his things.

[[ mitchell's last post in fandom for a while, not that he knows it. open! ]]

Mitchell didn't spend as much time going back and forth between his UK and Fandom as he used to; the two weeks he'd spent there a little while ago had been an aberration. Now, though, he was considering going back again, if simply to find out exactly why Nina had somehow forgotten about Kemp.

Being trapped in an institution by a man like that seemed like the sort of thing that would stick with you.

Add to that that Carl was nowhere to be found either - though that was more a Jack's-world issue than a Mitchell's-UK issue - he was starting to get worried. Maybe Nina had some kind of degenerative disease? Mitchell had lost too many friends this year already - he didn't want to lose... well, George's girlfriend, and George's sanity if something happened to Nina.

But those were just thoughts.

What he was doing right now was... pretty much what he did any day of the week when he wasn't at the theater: moping behind the television.

[[ mostly for one, but open for visits or phone calls, sure. ]]