chosehumanity | Honolulu Heights, Friday

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Honolulu Heights, Friday

So several people had been promised a housewarming party - and George had managed to convince Mitchell not to invite everyone in the whole neighbourhood, so chances were it might not even end in disaster - which would double as a 'welcome back, Annie!' party.

That meant tea. And biscuits. But mostly loads of tea. (And little finger sandwiches; Annie had insisted, claiming they were 'classy'.)

And leis. Annie had been vocal about those, too.

But: now the place was ready, after a week of running around and shopping and arguing and laughing and then running around some more. Time to celebrate.

[[ for those who were invited, and for anyone who thinks they might have been invited! ]]

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"But not a grass skirt," she pointed out. "I only hula in a grass skirt."

This was actually true-ish. Because she'd once thrown a third floor theme party, excpt she couldn't remember whether she'd done the hula even then.

Jack wasn't going to stop her: Between being part wolf and being a 20-year-old boy, he was eating more than his share of however many sandwiches she could make.

(It was okay. He was just taking Annie's portion.)

"Welcome back," he said, wondering if he could see her because people could, or because he wasn't exactly people anymore. "Can I help with anything?"

"There are islands," Jack said, but half-heartedly. That was a risk too, and it wasn't like islands were around every corner. "But likely not my best idea there, either."

He glanced about, hoping Nina wasn't within enhanced earshot. "Can I ask you something personal?"

Not too personal. Jack was still, after all, a bit Victorian.

"I wouldn't want it forever, but sometimes it'd just be nice to know," Jack said. "... how bad do passengers get?"

There was more nose-wrinkling. "Middle-aged dudes acting like little babies over us running out of biscottis?"

"And you aren't allowed to tell them some people have real problems?"

Because that was a sympathetic and useful response.

"At least you met your ... friend from the hotel." A pause as Jack groped for the name. "Evan?"

"We could make you one," Mitchell suggested, straight-faced.

"I've never... tried that," George began, but then shut up as Jack asked his question. "...how personal?"

Annnd here came the snickering.

"... Are you offering to make me a grass skirt?"

"Well, you'd have to find an island with no one else using it...." Jack needed to stop thinking about this.

"Anyhow. Er. About the chances I'd pass this on to someone I cared about." He reddened. "Sorry. Just need to -- know."

Kate nodded. "Evan, yeah. Evan is... a shining beacon of hope in a sea of grouchy, cheap commuters." So poetic. "And pretty good company on a five-hour ride back to Kansas, too."

The second one, but she'd bash him on the head with a tea-tray if he put it that way out loud. Gently, but still. Right over the head.

"Eat something," she answered predictably, with a grin. "The faster it disappears, the less George fidgets." She might have her own little tiny neuroses here and there, but she wasn't blind.

Just...sometimes a bit slow. "You can see me!"

"No," Mitchell corrected, "I'm offering to get George to make you a grass skirt. That's a vast difference."

... Oh.

"You mean like... with me and Nina--"

Yes.

"Yeah, in the entertainment value," Kate returned without missing a beat. "His spazziness gives me a headache."

"I can," Jack agreed, blinking as he sorted through what that must mean. (Also wishing she could just tell so he didn't need to explain it again. There should really be some sort of interdimensional signal.) The shortest sentence seemed to be the best.

"There was -- I'm a werewolf now," he said, then added, "Have been for about six weeks."

Just in case she might have missed it before.

"Yes," Jack said. "I'm sorry, I know it was horrible for you both, but -- yes."

George stared down at his tea. "I... scratched her," he said. "While I was changing. That's... when you're in a transformation or, you are starting one, that's when it's... active."

"Which has to be a bonding experience, if anything is," Jack decided. "I'm glad it's not all people whining about biscuits."

"So if I don't touch anyone when the moon is full, it might --"

Jack felt the urge to apologize again. It was something he needed to know, but that didn't mean he could dissect it as an object lesson.

"I just need this to stop with me," he explained.

"No," George said. He was still staring at his tea, but then, as if he'd found something in it, he nodded. "No, I know... exactly how you feel. This... thing is a disease. It shouldn't have a place in this world."

Though he was doing a bit better at the acceptance bit these days, but... still.

"But that's... all I know. Only on the full moon. Every other day of the month, everything is... normal. If that's what you want to call it."

"It's not," Kate assured him. "I mean, I do like the job. It's not running a movie theater in Fandom but it's not all bad. Plus Evan's there, like, all the time, and some of the other regulars are okay too, so. It's good."

She just liked whining.

"As close as it's ever going to get for me, anyhow," Jack said. Which ... wasn't all that bad, most days. "Thank you."

"Yes," Bod said, nodding and...carrying the wine like a professional. "It's a pleasure to see you again. Thank you for inviting me."

No, there should just be a thing where Mitchell remembered to tell people things they missed while they were spending months in Purgatory for tax purposes.

"You...really?" Both boys should forgive Annie for the next words out of her mouth. Please. "George didn't... I mean, you didn't..." She glanced over at Nina. "Get trapped with them?"

There was a bit of a history, and honestly she was asking mostly to find out if George had piled yet another stone atop his rockpile of guilt.

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Honolulu Heights, Friday

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