chosehumanity | Coroner's Office, Bristol, Sunday (Reply)

Mitchell practically had to shove his way into the coroner's office, with Daisy so hot on his heels. Sure, he was willing to track down what the hell had happened, but she didn't need to be so fucking pushy - this really wasn't a massive conspiracy.

"Quinn?" he called. "We need to talk about something."

Eric Northman	Eric was content to keep to the background, following behind and shooting Daisy the occasional dark look (because pushing vampires around just wasn't done. Unless you were Sookie. Or...shut up, that's what). He found a spot where he could watch Mitchell, Quinn and Daisy, along with the door, and glowered.
John Mitchell	Quinn looked up. The old, bearded man looked... stoic, if wary. His eyebrows didn't do him any favors. "Hey," Mitchell said, strolling up to him, lightly. Daisy slipped around the side until she was seated on a table behind them. "How's it going?" Daisy managed to stay put for every single one of those syllables, and then she was on the move: with vampire speed, she drew a blade, and with vampire strength she grabbed good ol' Steven Quinn, pressed the knife to his throat and shoved him over the table. "Steven, meet Daisy," Mitchell said, conversationally, "Daisy, meet Steven." "Hello, Steven the coroner," Daisy cackled.
Eric	"Please don't kill him immediately," Eric said in a bored sort of voice. "It's so difficult to make them talk then."
Mitchell	"Oh, don't worry, Eric, babe," Daisy said, grinning, and pressed Quinn further into the table. "I'll be extra-careful." Mitchell smiled, sitting down behind Quinn's desk. "And that's Eric," he said. "He's very old. Very powerful. He's mostly here to make sure we don't miss anything, because in some ways, we are terrible amateurs." Quinn strained back against Daisy, but that really didn't amount to anything. "So," Mitchell said, sitting forward, "The fire at the funeral parlor. One of the vampires that got toasted was her husband. How long have you guys been at it?" "Sixty-nine years," Daisy hissed into Quinn's ear. "Sixty-nine years," Mitchell repeated. He shook his head slowly. "If you think about couples nowadays, huh...?" He smiled. "Anyway, Daisy needs closure. She's decided that the best way of getting that is by cutting your throat." Daisy swung one leg over Quinn's hips, and grinned at his ear. "It's healthy to turn anger outward, you see."
Eric	"It's true," Eric added, examining his fingernails. "All of the self-help books say so." Like Eric had ever read a self-help book. He'd been absolutely comfortable in his own skin for a thousand years. "Let the man babble and beg for his life first," he continued. "Traditions to uphold and all."
Mitchell	"See, Eric and me have both had that conversation with her now," Mitchell said. He still sounded over-the-top friendly about it, leaning over Quinn's desk. "I told her, he's not the guy. Sure, he'll have known about it, and helped cover it up, but what you want to do is, you want to focus all your energy on whoever organised it." He got back up to his feet, his hands pressing into Quinn's papers. "So we came to a compromise. You tell me who's behind it, and we'll go and annoy them." Daisy pressed the blade to Quinn's cheek-- too hard, as it turned out. The coroner cried out in pain and reached for his face, and Mitchell sighed. "Daisy, that was a little close there, sweetheart." "Sorry."
Eric	"It's like we'd have hardly been here at all," Eric added evenly. "Other than a tiny little scar on your cheek." His fangs came out. "And really, it could end so much worse than that."
Mitchell	The sight of it made Quinn struggle harder. "It wasn't us," he choked out. Mitchell made a buzzing noise. "Wrong answer," he said, stepping 'round the desk so he was properly standing in front of the guy. "We know it was you, because you signed off on the cause of death." "What else could I do?!" Quinn said, through gritted teeth. "None of us knew what had happened, but we knew what they were. All we could do was-- react. There was no warning."
Eric	Eric tsked. "I don't think Daisy is buying this."
Mitchell	No, Daisy wasn't buying it. At all. And she was ready to make that clear to the bastard too, when he started laughing, low in his throat, and then louder. She shouted at him, nearly incomprehensible syllables, and pressed the knife closer. "You don't know. Whether it was us or somebody else." Quinn cackled. "You're on the run!" Mitchell grabbed him by his shirt, yanked him out from under Daisy and shoved him up against the wall. Hard. "Here comes a candle to light you to bed," the coroner said, his mouth pulled up into a grin as Mitchell's grip choked off some of his oxygen. "Here comes the chopper to chop off your head." "Tell me it was you, or I swear I'll kill you and everyone you know," Mitchell snarled. Quinn abruptly turned serious; Mitchell let go of him a second later. "I wish to God it had been us," Quinn said, glaring at Mitchell with an aloof kind of recklessness. "I'd have invited every father and mother and child of your victims, and we'd have held hands as we listened to the screams."
Eric	Eric rolled his eyes at the coroner. "Oh, you're one of those." He didn't seem remotely bothered that Mitchell was choking the man--he'd figured the man's time had been up the moment the three of them entered his office. "There's generally less poetry recitation at these sorts of things," he added.
Mitchell	Mitchell seemed a little more rattled. He took a step back. "Yeah, well, clearly he doesn't know anything," he said. Another step back. And then towards the door. "Let's go." Daisy snorted. "Okay, so A. I told you so. And B," she said, glancing at Stephen-Quinn-the-coroner, "You are really rude."
Eric	"And your poetry was stupid," Eric added for good measure, giving Mitchell a slightly worried glance.
Mitchell	But the coroner wasn't looking at either of them. He was still looking straight at Mitchell, breathing hard. "You won't find her." Her. Her. He'd just said her. Mitchell... stopped.
Eric	Well shit. Mitchell had only mentioned one "her" to Eric, and if she was linked up in this mess somehow...well, farewell, coroner. He took a few discrete steps back and out of the splatter zone.
Mitchell	Daisy, who wasn't quite as sharp as Eric, kept badgering the coroner with questions. Who was it? Why did he mention her now? "She came to my office a few weeks back," the coroner said, "Said she had this bonkers idea I was working for vampires and didn't like it. She told me not to worry. Said they'd got a plan. She'd find out where the vampires were gathering, and there was going to be a fire..." Plan. A her. A plan. A someone who hadn't contacted him any time recently. "What was her name." Mitchell's expression was blank. His voice was blank. He hadn't even budged enough to turn around. "She only told me her first name," Quinn replied. "Tell. Me," Mitchell gritted out. "Now." Quinn smiled. He sounded as if he took great pleasure out of saying just this one name. "Lucy." Ah. Yes. Mitchell paced back very, very calmly, and with very, very calm grace, he took the knife from Daisy's hands, and very, very calmly, he hammered the knife into Quinn's heart, and then again, and then again. The man died with noises that weren't very gutteral at all, wet noises, strangling noises-- And then Mitchell was ripping the place apart with his bare hands.
Eric	And that's when Eric stepped in, baring fangs and moving with vampire speed to stand in front of Mitchell. "Rein it in!" he snapped.
Mitchell	Mitchell stopped-- he'd upturned half the office by now. But it was mostly just stopping in place, as his eyes went black and he snarled, "For years I protected humanity. I wanted to join them and they do this?" His eyes darted to Daisy, though the lack-of-pupils made it impossible to see. "We're under attack. Time for some fucking retaliation." Because that was sane, Mitchell.
Eric	"Because that's sane," Eric snarled back, agreeing wholehearted with the narrative. "Right now we get out of here before someone decides to investigate all the fucking noise, Mitchell," he added, "and plan our next move."
Mitchell	"Find Lucy," Mitchell snapped. "And if we can't find her, then we start killing everyone else in the world until we do!" Yeah. To absolutely no one's surprise, that plan utterly failed to impress Eric. With all due consequences.