A Pink Corner House, Saturday Noon-ish

[chosehumanity]

Jack's trip to Bristol had been uneventful but productive this far - at least, if you asked Mitchell, who was thoroughly relieved that nothing had gone awry over the past two days. Unless you counted Tully's reeking bathroom habits, but that had been fixed with a moment of don't-go-in-there-just-yet charades.

... After Mitchell had gone in there.

Anyway, they'd just waved off the last of the week's guests. These weekly neighbourhood tea parties were working pretty well - again, if you asked Mitchell - and he was practically humming to himself as he cleared some of the dirty dishes off assorted horizontal surfaces.

Behind him, George closed the front door on the last one - an old lady by name of Paulina who had a tea cosy collection and an absolutely charming way of talking about it - with a loud sigh. The werewolf's head thunked against the door.

"I cannot," George announced, "Do another conversation about Vin Diesel."

That really should have been the first clue.

[[ for jack! some dialogue taken/will be taken from Being Human 1x02! ]]

Comments

[bitten_notshy]

"He made us do that for detention once," Jack informed George. "I ended up trying to talk about interesting diseases."

He squinted at the cup he was washing. Tully had touched it; it needed a third bath in the hottest water the tap would provide. (The werewolf thing didn't bother him overly. The man's personal hygiene was another story.) But it had been a pleasant enough visit so far, all things considered.

[chosehumanity]

"Even that would have been more interesting," George lamented, flailing a bit in his... utterly understated manner.

Mitchell sighed at the both of them. "You just need to get him onto a different subject," he said, wisely, and peered down at a plate to make sure it wasn't too disgusting.

"I've tried!" George raged. "Leonard Cohen, Darcey Bussell-- it's like he isn't even interested!" This was clearly a great offense in his book.

[bitten_notshy]

Jack paused in his scrubbing. "He didn't exactly seem the fine arts type," he pointed out. "You could have tried that on the one who kept rabbiting on about her cats, and given me the Diesel fan."

Not that he knew more than the first thing about Vin Diesel, but he could have gotten that one onto tabloid crime headlines. (Jack had a morbid fascination.)

[chosehumanity]

"See?" Mitchell said - going by the look on George's face, more triumph than was really kind, here - "Jack knows how to handle this kind of thing, you just have to take control of the conversation."

George couldn't possibly look more offended, but he didn't manage to get in a word edgewise as Mitchell continued. "Engage the people. It's good that we're doing this, especially right now," he pointed out, "It sends a clear message." He stacked a glass on top of the plates he was carrying.

[bitten_notshy]

"What's going on right now?" Jack asked, with a wary glance to Mitchell. "And can you carry that much without dropping it?"

[chosehumanity]

...Oh, crap. "Nothing's going on," he said, immediately, and pulled upright. Yes, he could carry it. "Sorry, phrased it oddly." Mitchell flashed a vaguely disarming smile in Jack's direction and hoped to God everyone would buy it.

"...You said it sends a clear message," George said. He wasn't thrown. "To who?"

Fuck, fuck.

"The neighbourhood. You know, all the locals."

[bitten_notshy]

It was an attractive enough smile, but none of that worked on Jack any more than it worked on George.

"Ah," Jack said, leaning back against the counter. "And for no reason at all you want to send a clear message to the locals this weekend. Of course. I do that all of the time."

[chosehumanity]

"It's nothing, all right?" Mitchell asked. His eyes flitted to mostly-silent Annie on the couch for support, but he found nothing there but a wary look. Oh, great. This was just what he needed. Everyone else nosying into whatever Herrick was up to at the moment.

"Tully told me he was in London a few weeks ago," George said. Any sense of his previous annoyance at Mitchell's mockery had fallen away from him now. He sounded pensive, and only slightly accusing. "And a group of vampires kicked the shit out of him."

Mitchell bustled towards some cutlery on the left mostly for form's sake as George spoke, then glanced up. "Vampires are arseholes," he said, casually. "This is hardly news."

[bitten_notshy]

"Well, no," Jack had to acknowledge. His promise to Emma -- that he'd come home with no harm done -- had him a bit wary. (It wasn't so much that he thought anything would happen that he couldn't handle; it was the whole telepathy factor.)

He sounded casual as he put some biscuits away and asked, "Is there any reason to think that trouble would have followed Tully here?"

[chosehumanity]

"I'm not sure if it's trouble following him we have to be worried about," George bit out. "It's not even the violence, it's the things they're saying. About how 'their time is coming'."

Mitchell shut his eyes briefly, but realised that was probably a suspect action to begin with. "Look," he began, "Vampires have been saying their time is coming since the Dark Ages. Every once in a while, one comes along and starts spouting things, gets everyone all excited. It never comes to anything."

"So something is happening?" spoke the ghost, at last.

Mitchell shot Annie a sharp look. "It's nothing."

[bitten_notshy]

Jack glanced to the ... blank spot on the couch ... Mitchell was glaring at, and closed his own eyes. He tended to forget Annie was there and unseen, except for when she was being directly addressed or when a cup of tea appeared next to him, either of which was unnerving.

"But someone is talking," he surmised. "And it has a few excitable types on edge, and George's friend got the worst of it. Is that about it?"

[chosehumanity]

"That's all," Mitchell said - rather pointedly - and dumped his share of dishes in George's arms without asking. "Honest. Whatever this is is going to blow over, now I need to wee."

Without adding anything else, he began his trek up the stairs.

"...Well, I feel totally reassured," George said, shooting a look Jack's way, then Annie's.

[bitten_notshy]

"As do I," Jack said, and lowered his voice as he went over to relieve George of at least some of the dishes. "How bad do you think it really is? I don't know anything, but -- the more he says it's nothing, the more I think it's something."

[chosehumanity]

"I always love it when he's denying things," George said, glancing back at him. "About as much as I like it when he's drunk."

"Maybe it's some kind of... vampire chain gang?" Annie contributed from her seat. "You know, with motorcycles. I had a cousin--"

"...No," George said, "I don't think it's strictly a chain gang, Annie, what?"

[bitten_notshy]

"Denial's a safe guess. What did she say about chain gangs?" Jack asked. Not because he thought one was involved, but because it was an intriguing snippet of conversation. "...sorry, Annie."

[chosehumanity]

"She thinks it's vampire chain gangs," George said. You could kind of sense his lack of belief from twenty paces, yes. "But I'm not sure. Maybe they're-- clotting-- again. I've had the shit kicked out of me by vampires once, I'm not exactly thrilled to revisit it."

[bitten_notshy]

"I had to promise this wouldn't be Becka the second before I came," Jack said. "Not that that's the same, but ...."

He trailed off, seeming to hear something overhead.

"He's been up there a long time."

[chosehumanity]

George shrugged. "Probably trying to avoid talking to us," he muttered.

There was a slight thump upstairs.

[bitten_notshy]

"He could just go to the pub for that," Jack pointed out. "Or put on headphones and ...."

He eyed the ceiling. "I'm going to at least go up. Coming?"

[chosehumanity]

George rolled his eyes. "No," he said, holding up the plates Mitchell had shoved at him, "I'm cleaning."

[bitten_notshy]

"Have fun." Jack rolled his own eyes in return, and, feeling foolish, headed for the stairs.

"Everything all right up there?" he called, a few stairs from the top. If nothing was going on he was going to feel like the idiot of all time, and would likely deserve any mocking.

[chosehumanity]

"Look," Mitchell's voice sounded across the hallway. He hadn't heard Jack yet, and there was a clear edge to his voice. "I just think you need to go downstairs. Everyone's gone."

A second, female voice joined him. "But I got blood on my shirt," she said. "Will it even wash out if I don't clean it right now--?"

[bitten_notshy]

Blood on her shirt?

Jack didn't quite have a flashback, but there was a certain visceral clamminess to his skin. He charged up the last few stairs.

"Who's bleeding?" he said, in place of, If anyone got hurt I will kill the lot of you, I mean it.

[chosehumanity]

The girl with Mitchell blinked. She was still in the process of holding her hand up to him-- and he was clearly trying very hard to stay away from it. "I nicked myself," she said, by way of explanation. "Your other housemate, that bloke-- Tully, right?" A beat. "He told me to see about washing it off up here."

Mitchell pulled away abruptly. "...we need to get her a plaster or something," he said, too quickly.

[bitten_notshy]

Jack's shoulders relaxed. "They're in the washroom, aren't they?" he told the girl. "We'll get you cleaned up. Don't worry about it."

He wondered whether Tully was intentionally poking at Mitchell.

[chosehumanity]

"Yeah..." Mitchell shook his head once, sounding distracted again. His eyes went black once between blinks, but settled back. "Yeah, I mean, he's right. Jack, can you take her there, look after her? It's in the left cabinet. I need to go--"

He paced towards the stairs. "...help George out."

[bitten_notshy]

"Of course," Jack said, only slightly strained. He flashed a smile at the girl. "I'll get her all fixed up and we'll be down in a moment."