A House with a Mural, Wales, Monday
Jan. 16th, 2012 10:36 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
chosehumanityThe 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. "That's..." He turned towards the real estate agent. "...it's not definite..."
"No, no," Mitchell said. "She should be here pretty soon."
What was George thinking? That they weren't getting Annie back?
"I don't know what's taking her so long..."
Nina responded kindly by flipping him the bird. The real estate agent kept rattling on regardless. "Do whatever you want, as long as you pay the rent I don't care," she said. "We've been trying to shift this place for months, nobody's takin' it, I reckon it's haunted."
Haunted?
Mitchell looked up.
George looked up.
Nina looked up.
"No, it's not," they said in unison.
George cleared his throat. "We're... really, really excited, us. It was the, um... it was the basement gym."
"Oh yeah," Nina said, grinning, and quickly veered on up. The werewolves had been looking for a place that had space to transform in for some time. Running around the countryside got tiring, especially with Nina and George both needing to mark a territory for their wolves to run around in that didn't intersect the other's.
"She's... she's excited," George added. "Can we take a look?"
"Sure," the real estate agent said, taking her folder back off the bar. "If you're interested in disappointment." She strolled out past the bar and into the hallway. Nina slipped past the bar on one end, George on the other.
Mind, George mostly did it so he could pause halfway, ring the bell sitting on the bar, and go, "Basil?"
Mitchell wasn't so interested in that kind of joking around, honestly. He sighed and sank down on a stool, turning on the TV. It wasn't much at first: some 'checking back with' the families of the victims of that attack half a year ago now, the one Daisy had almost dragged him into.
And then the screen started to flicker.
"Mitchell? Mitchell!"
Shit.
Mitchell scrambled back to his feet. "Annie!" he called. "Are you okay?!"
She was in a cage - who the hell would have the gall to put Annie in a cage?! - her fingers clinging desperately to the bars. He reached out for her, placing his hand back against the television.
"This is the waiting room," she whispered. "We wait, until... they know where they want us to go."
"Have they told you where?" Mitchell asked quietly.
"They built a special room," she whispered. There were audible tears there, little chokey noises in her voice, and Mitchell wanted to hurt something. Get her out of there. Anything. "Just for me. They're going to lock the door and they're going to burn the key."
His heart stopped. "What's that mean?"
"It's Hell, Mitchell," she said, shoving up against the bars. "They're going to take me to Hell--"
"Annie!" Mitchell called, pressing his other hand against the telly as well. Her image was starting to break up. "Annie, I'm coming to get you! Stay strong!"
Flicker. Flicker.
Gone.
And... a real estate agent giving him a really funny look, Nina and George coming up in her wake.
"...Right," she said. "Er. I just got off the phone with my boss, had a little pow-wow, just... say the word and we'll strip up the floor, put in some new furniture, make it look all catalogue-y."
George shot Mitchell a mildly curious look. "Er, that sounds great," he said. "How long will that take?"
The real estate agent shrugged. "About two weeks?" she offered. "We've got some Polish fellows, peasant stock, very--"
"Okay, no," George interrupted her. "No, we want to move in now."
"Really?" She blinked.
Nina sank down at the sofa and smiled. Pleasantly. "Please," she said.
"Mitchell?" George implored.
Yeah, whatever. Mitchell banged his hands on the TV to get the picture back. "Yeah, whatever."
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. ]]
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. "That's..." He turned towards the real estate agent. "...it's not definite..."
"No, no," Mitchell said. "She should be here pretty soon."
What was George thinking? That they weren't getting Annie back?
"I don't know what's taking her so long..."
Nina responded kindly by flipping him the bird. The real estate agent kept rattling on regardless. "Do whatever you want, as long as you pay the rent I don't care," she said. "We've been trying to shift this place for months, nobody's takin' it, I reckon it's haunted."
Haunted?
Mitchell looked up.
George looked up.
Nina looked up.
"No, it's not," they said in unison.
George cleared his throat. "We're... really, really excited, us. It was the, um... it was the basement gym."
"Oh yeah," Nina said, grinning, and quickly veered on up. The werewolves had been looking for a place that had space to transform in for some time. Running around the countryside got tiring, especially with Nina and George both needing to mark a territory for their wolves to run around in that didn't intersect the other's.
"She's... she's excited," George added. "Can we take a look?"
"Sure," the real estate agent said, taking her folder back off the bar. "If you're interested in disappointment." She strolled out past the bar and into the hallway. Nina slipped past the bar on one end, George on the other.
Mind, George mostly did it so he could pause halfway, ring the bell sitting on the bar, and go, "Basil?"
Mitchell wasn't so interested in that kind of joking around, honestly. He sighed and sank down on a stool, turning on the TV. It wasn't much at first: some 'checking back with' the families of the victims of that attack half a year ago now, the one Daisy had almost dragged him into.
And then the screen started to flicker.
"Mitchell? Mitchell!"
Shit.
Mitchell scrambled back to his feet. "Annie!" he called. "Are you okay?!"
She was in a cage - who the hell would have the gall to put Annie in a cage?! - her fingers clinging desperately to the bars. He reached out for her, placing his hand back against the television.
"This is the waiting room," she whispered. "We wait, until... they know where they want us to go."
"Have they told you where?" Mitchell asked quietly.
"They built a special room," she whispered. There were audible tears there, little chokey noises in her voice, and Mitchell wanted to hurt something. Get her out of there. Anything. "Just for me. They're going to lock the door and they're going to burn the key."
His heart stopped. "What's that mean?"
"It's Hell, Mitchell," she said, shoving up against the bars. "They're going to take me to Hell--"
"Annie!" Mitchell called, pressing his other hand against the telly as well. Her image was starting to break up. "Annie, I'm coming to get you! Stay strong!"
Flicker. Flicker.
Gone.
And... a real estate agent giving him a really funny look, Nina and George coming up in her wake.
"...Right," she said. "Er. I just got off the phone with my boss, had a little pow-wow, just... say the word and we'll strip up the floor, put in some new furniture, make it look all catalogue-y."
George shot Mitchell a mildly curious look. "Er, that sounds great," he said. "How long will that take?"
The real estate agent shrugged. "About two weeks?" she offered. "We've got some Polish fellows, peasant stock, very--"
"Okay, no," George interrupted her. "No, we want to move in now."
"Really?" She blinked.
Nina sank down at the sofa and smiled. Pleasantly. "Please," she said.
"Mitchell?" George implored.
Yeah, whatever. Mitchell banged his hands on the TV to get the picture back. "Yeah, whatever."
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. ]]
no subject
Date: 2012-01-16 07:13 pm (UTC)Which was not to say Kate objected. Yet, anyway. She was still trying to process.
no subject
Date: 2012-01-16 07:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-16 07:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-17 08:41 am (UTC)If by 'research' you meant 'Mitchell manhandling the telly every day', but shh.
no subject
Date: 2012-01-17 09:30 am (UTC)She... didn't know she'd meant to say that before she heard herself saying it. Huh. She had to pause before continuing.
"That you're not rushing headfirst into anything."
This may have been the 'so Jack probably got turned into a werewolf' talking.
no subject
Date: 2012-01-17 09:51 am (UTC)'BIAB, hitching someone else's door into the afterlife, I'll let you know when we get back' probably wasn't going to be such an uplifting message when the time came.
no subject
Date: 2012-01-17 09:58 am (UTC)"Okay." She did not sound terribly reassured, but she was glad to get at least that much out of him. "You do that. Stay safe."