A Pink Corner House, Saturday Morning
Jun. 19th, 2010 11:53 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
chosehumanityThankfully, it had been another calm and quiet weekend in Bristol - beyond the usual Tully issues. When Mitchell had suggested he stay, he'd figured the man would be there for a couple of days at best -- but now they were three weeks down the road, and Tully had slipped into nearly every crack in their lives.
Including stinking up the bathroom, leaving wounded women strolling around the house, probably having a go of it on the sofa--
Ew.
Regardless, it had been quiet, and Mitchell had in fact even taken it on himself to steal down to hospital to check out the state of George's old isolation room. He'd come back with good news - twice the amount, in fact, after being greeted by a neighbour along the way - but George was still sleeping. So he'd settled on the curb in front of the house with Annie, where he was now. Smiling at the ghost as she picked at her tea like she could actually drink it.
After fifteen minutes, the door behind him finally creaked open, revealing a familiar face.
"George," Mitchell greeted him, grinning. George slipped past him, past Annie, landing on the sidewalk. It was his shift for work, Mitchell was aware-- hence the easy casuals. "You know the isolation room you were using to transform in--?"
"Yeah, they're using it as a site office for the building now," George said, stopping in his tracks. He stuck his hands down his jeans.
"Health and safety says it's unsuitable." Which was brilliant news for them. "It's too remote and there's no windows. The site officer kept bursting into tears whenever he went down there." Sort of funny in its way, really, if you asked Mitchell; he snorted as he brought his cigarette back up to his lips.
"So...?" George prompted, which was an odd response in its own right.
"So," Mitchell continued, tapping his cigarette, "After next week, you can start using it again." He smiled, and looked up to catch George's expression. "To transform in."
George sighed loudly, and shot a glance out into the street. "Oh, I don't know..." he muttered-- what now?-- "I think I'm better off curled up in the lap of mother nature."
"Ahh, right," Mitchell chuckled, raising his cigarette again. That did make sense in its--
Wait. Wait. "What?" Lap of mother nature? Who was this and what had he done with George, exactly?
"What," Annie echoed, and her expression mirrored Mitchell's exactly. "I... thought you said that changing out in the open is dangerous?"
With a slight shrug, George shifted his feet and replied, "Look... don't try to understand George."
'Don't try to understand George'. Don't try to understand George. What? No, seriously. Who?
"George...?" Again, Annie was perfectly voicing Mitchell's own thoughts here. "George who?"
That threw George off his attempted cool. "...M-Me," he said, pointing at himself, as if they should know that. There was something seriously odd going on here.
There was only one way to deal with that: ignore it. Ignore it, and try not to let George stew in his own awkwardness at the moment. Mitchell took a long pull of his cigarette. "So Carol from number 12 is going to lend us Cherchell," he said, studiously ignoring the whole thing.
Sheer confusion overtook George's face for a few ticks as his eyes flew to the left, then to the right, and finally settled before he asked, "...Why?"
Hadn't he explained this to George before? "I'm only in it!" Awesome news fact number two! Come on, George, get with the program!
"Get out!" Annie obviously was getting with it. The program, that is.
"I'm just an extra. In the bar," Mitchell continued, grinning. He'd gotten to share some of this with his kids in class, but most of them didn't and couldn't actually know he was in it. That made this extra special. "And you can't actually see me, obviously," the trappings of being a vampire, "But I do knock over a chair at one point and you can see that!" You didn't wind up an extra in a film that became world-famous every day, you know. After all these years, even Mitchell still thought it was really, really cool.
Annie agreed. "You were in Cherchell?!" she asked, beaming at him in the best way. "How'd you swing that?" Her fingers curled further around her warm cup.
With a grin and a stylish motion of his hand, Mitchell said, "Oh... I know people. I move and shake."
"I know better ways to spend an evening than watch you knock a chair over sixty years ago." George finished the statement with this ridiculous little chuckle, like he was trying to be cool.
"Ohhhh," Annie said, unimpressed, and swung her head over to look at him. "You've changed your tune. You love old movies." She was, Mitchell reflected, an excellent bullshit-caller on anyone.
But George didn't seem done with his spiel yet. "Hey," he said, holding up his hand, and motioned it outward, "George is as George does."
...
No, seriously?
Seriously?
"Did you really just say that?" Mitchell asked, because he really, sincerely had to. "Did you actually say those words?"
The expression on Annie's face was appropriately disturbed. "Oh my god," she said, "Oh my god, you're Tully's Mini-Me!"
And with that, Mitchell cracked up. Utterly and sincerely lost it, "Yes," he said, laughing, "Yes!" And the two of them kept laughing as George stalked off, clearly looking for some kind of fit to have in true Mini-Me fashion. "Oh my god."
[[ nfb, nfi, ooc-okay, and taken from possibly the best moment from Being Human 1x02. Mwahahaha. Also, isn't it lovely when you make up a meta for something and then never manage to recall exactly what it was? ]]
Including stinking up the bathroom, leaving wounded women strolling around the house, probably having a go of it on the sofa--
Ew.
Regardless, it had been quiet, and Mitchell had in fact even taken it on himself to steal down to hospital to check out the state of George's old isolation room. He'd come back with good news - twice the amount, in fact, after being greeted by a neighbour along the way - but George was still sleeping. So he'd settled on the curb in front of the house with Annie, where he was now. Smiling at the ghost as she picked at her tea like she could actually drink it.
After fifteen minutes, the door behind him finally creaked open, revealing a familiar face.
"George," Mitchell greeted him, grinning. George slipped past him, past Annie, landing on the sidewalk. It was his shift for work, Mitchell was aware-- hence the easy casuals. "You know the isolation room you were using to transform in--?"
"Yeah, they're using it as a site office for the building now," George said, stopping in his tracks. He stuck his hands down his jeans.
"Health and safety says it's unsuitable." Which was brilliant news for them. "It's too remote and there's no windows. The site officer kept bursting into tears whenever he went down there." Sort of funny in its way, really, if you asked Mitchell; he snorted as he brought his cigarette back up to his lips.
"So...?" George prompted, which was an odd response in its own right.
"So," Mitchell continued, tapping his cigarette, "After next week, you can start using it again." He smiled, and looked up to catch George's expression. "To transform in."
George sighed loudly, and shot a glance out into the street. "Oh, I don't know..." he muttered-- what now?-- "I think I'm better off curled up in the lap of mother nature."
"Ahh, right," Mitchell chuckled, raising his cigarette again. That did make sense in its--
Wait. Wait. "What?" Lap of mother nature? Who was this and what had he done with George, exactly?
"What," Annie echoed, and her expression mirrored Mitchell's exactly. "I... thought you said that changing out in the open is dangerous?"
With a slight shrug, George shifted his feet and replied, "Look... don't try to understand George."
'Don't try to understand George'. Don't try to understand George. What? No, seriously. Who?
"George...?" Again, Annie was perfectly voicing Mitchell's own thoughts here. "George who?"
That threw George off his attempted cool. "...M-Me," he said, pointing at himself, as if they should know that. There was something seriously odd going on here.
There was only one way to deal with that: ignore it. Ignore it, and try not to let George stew in his own awkwardness at the moment. Mitchell took a long pull of his cigarette. "So Carol from number 12 is going to lend us Cherchell," he said, studiously ignoring the whole thing.
Sheer confusion overtook George's face for a few ticks as his eyes flew to the left, then to the right, and finally settled before he asked, "...Why?"
Hadn't he explained this to George before? "I'm only in it!" Awesome news fact number two! Come on, George, get with the program!
"Get out!" Annie obviously was getting with it. The program, that is.
"I'm just an extra. In the bar," Mitchell continued, grinning. He'd gotten to share some of this with his kids in class, but most of them didn't and couldn't actually know he was in it. That made this extra special. "And you can't actually see me, obviously," the trappings of being a vampire, "But I do knock over a chair at one point and you can see that!" You didn't wind up an extra in a film that became world-famous every day, you know. After all these years, even Mitchell still thought it was really, really cool.
Annie agreed. "You were in Cherchell?!" she asked, beaming at him in the best way. "How'd you swing that?" Her fingers curled further around her warm cup.
With a grin and a stylish motion of his hand, Mitchell said, "Oh... I know people. I move and shake."
"I know better ways to spend an evening than watch you knock a chair over sixty years ago." George finished the statement with this ridiculous little chuckle, like he was trying to be cool.
"Ohhhh," Annie said, unimpressed, and swung her head over to look at him. "You've changed your tune. You love old movies." She was, Mitchell reflected, an excellent bullshit-caller on anyone.
But George didn't seem done with his spiel yet. "Hey," he said, holding up his hand, and motioned it outward, "George is as George does."
...
No, seriously?
Seriously?
"Did you really just say that?" Mitchell asked, because he really, sincerely had to. "Did you actually say those words?"
The expression on Annie's face was appropriately disturbed. "Oh my god," she said, "Oh my god, you're Tully's Mini-Me!"
And with that, Mitchell cracked up. Utterly and sincerely lost it, "Yes," he said, laughing, "Yes!" And the two of them kept laughing as George stalked off, clearly looking for some kind of fit to have in true Mini-Me fashion. "Oh my god."
[[ nfb, nfi, ooc-okay, and taken from possibly the best moment from Being Human 1x02. Mwahahaha. Also, isn't it lovely when you make up a meta for something and then never manage to recall exactly what it was? ]]
no subject
Date: 2010-06-19 03:38 pm (UTC)In other news, oh George. Don't say stuff like that.]
no subject
Date: 2010-06-19 03:56 pm (UTC)In other news, I also spent about a minute giggling the other day thinking about what Kate would have to say about George's, ahem, language usage here ]]