chosehumanity | Somewhere on Serendipity Street, Saturday Morning

It had been a fool's errand, an act of desperation, of something sodding stupid done to stave off his own helplessness. The phone call, that was. Of course, none of the scum and the idiots down in Bristol had known anything, so the point was moot and Mitchell was getting more frantic in his efforts.

Maybe the island hadn't been such a good pick, but now he was stuck with it; he wasn't going to let the kids go without a fight.

So after a few hours of necessary rest he was heading back to the school to dive back into the books, cap safely on his head to protect his eyes from the sun, and his gloved hands shoved down his pockets.

He supposed he should've seen it coming, the presence, the taunting, if only by the smellL.

He didn't.

"Mitchell."

The voice, however, was so recognisable it made something in him jump, and his head swivelled around to discover the figure, still clad in a policeman's uniform - although a local one, at least Herrick knew how to blend in - and looking as plain and portly as always, hovering in an alley with his fingers curled around a hot steaming cup.

"Run out of dimes for the phone, Herrick?" he asked, stepping into the alleyway as quickly as he could, "You shouldn't be here."

Jack Priest	Jack had been researching until his eyes felt dry and sore, not terribly fruitfully. Frustrated, he turned what little information he had over in his head as he went through town to pick up a meal for the other researchers, taking a shortcut through some alleys and vacant lots. It was too bad he couldn't get help from home -- not that vampires at home were all that similar, but it seemed there should be something. But Sebastien, utter master of timing that he was, had picked this as a good time to trot unreachably off to Boston -- no, Jack shouldn't be snide, even in his head. It wasn't as though he would have been able to do much Jack hadn't done himself, it was just - . Mitchell's voice rising from around a corner derailed Jack from that train of thought, and he hesitated. Did he hear anger? He cast a glance more curious than cautious down the length of the alley to the two men.
Herrick	"Now, Mitchell," Herrick said, lifting his cup up to his mouth, "You seem agitated. Relax, have a drink - the hot chocolate here's a fair bit better than where you used to work, I'll give you that." Mitchell's anxiety levels shot up through the roof on that one. And that made him annoyed; outside of the classroom and his role in human society, his cheerful, relaxed demeanour had vanished with the wind. "Did you find anything?" he asked, unwilling to indulge any of Herrick's whims right now. "Unless you're coming here to tell me it's our lot over there." "Please," Herrick said, with a laugh, "We'll get to business in a bit. It's a charming little island you've chosen to run off to, isn't it? Practically dainty." Mitchell's eyes narrowed. "They're kids, Herrick," he said, "Don't even think about it."
Jack Priest	Someone smarter, or more cowardly, might have picked that moment to turn and make his way back to the safety of the main street. Jack was not that person, and he edged forward with folded arms. "Is something the matter?" His voice was ice.
Mitchell	Both of their heads turned. Herrick looked perfectly pleasant, plain, and slightly plump around the edges, with a friendly smile on his face that only spelled shark if you knew where to look. "Well, hello--" he started. "Nothing's the matter, Jack," said Mitchell, who looked a lot more wary by comparison, and pale in the lack of sunlight. "Everyone else is waiting for you up in the library, get a move on." "Jack, is it?" Herrick said, blatantly ignoring the rest of what he'd been saying, the bastard.
Jack Priest	"It is," Jack said, with a glance to Mitchell that suggested he wasn't going to take orders quite so easily. "And I think I have a minute -- the food isn't ready yet. I didn't catch your name, Mr. ...?" He saw a hint of the shark; he was just wondering about the species.
Herrick	Well, this was a situation Mitchell wasn't unfamiliar with around Herrick - nothing to do to break him away from his latest target, he could only watch from the sidelines and hope that it didn't go awry. He closed his mouth. "Oh, sorry!" Herrick said, passing his cup down to his other hand so he could offer Jack one to shake. "Mind my manners. Officer Herrick. I'm an old friend of Mitchell's, just passing on through. Heard you had a bit of a crisis."
Jack	"It's being handled," Jack said neutrally. "I didn't know we had called in outside help, Officer." His delay before accepting the hand was just enough to suggest he wasn't entirely comfortable with the situation, without being so long as to be actively rude.
Herrick	It certainly didn't affect Herrick's smile, as he shook it just long enough to show that he was comfortable, then let go. "Mitchell here thought he'd give me a tinkle," he said, making a motion for the phone. "As I was about to tell him, I'm more than happy to give him some insight into our files back home." Mitchell shot him a sharp look. "You're a student, am I right?" Herrick said, chuckling a little. "I heard there was a high school here. Not through Mitchell, of course. He's not very forthcoming."
Jack Priest	"He's my professor, yes," Jack confirmed, arms going casually back to his side as he resisted an odd urge to wipe his palm clean. "You've had similar problems at home?" He glanced to Mitchell as he spoke, the quickest check to see if it was time to flee in panic. No one this cheerful was ever entirely trustworthy.
Vampires	"In a manner of speaking, yes," Herrick said, pleasantly. "Though I'm a little surprised by the choice." He glanced back at Mitchell before the man could make any motions to spook the boy. "I thought that at his age, he'd have been bored silly of high schools. It's been a laugh back home with the boys." "Yeah, hilarious." Thank you for joining the conversation, Mitchell. "But if you haven't got anything, we've got food to deliver." "All you've got to do is come home, where you belong," Herrick replied, warming both of his hands on his cup. "Nothing comes without a price, but I'm sure we've got something for you. Save the little ones, if you're really that worried. Don't tell me that puppy of yours is still around."
Jack	Jack decided he'd learn more by seeing what Mitchell said here than by interjecting himself further. That there was subtext was clear to anyone with more intelligence than, oh, an earthworm; his role was just to wonder what exactly it was. Ideas were shifting, kaleidescoping in his head, but none of them quite lined up. So he stepped back, expectant.
Mitchell	The subtext wasn't meant for Jack, Mitchell could've told him that. He glanced at Herrick, not quite up for answering just yet. "Move it along," he said to Jack, as good-natured as he could make his voice - that was a warning, too. "They'll be starving by now." Just round the corner, Jack, and he could handle this one. "And George is fine," he added. "We're fine here." That one wasn't for Jack.
Jack Priest	Well, no, but usually you learned more from things not for you. So George was Mitchell's in some way; that was ... more than interesting. He hadn't picked up on it, but then, he hadn't been looking for it. "Of course, and it was an honor to meet you," Jack told Herrick, with a little bow of his head, then started walking away at the most leisurely pace he could manage for better eavesdropping. "I'll wait for you at the diner, Professor. I'm sure you're just finishing up here."
Vampires	Once Jack was out of earshot - or so Mitchell thought, anyway, he'd never exactly been a spy - he turned to Herrick. "If you don't have anything, leave," he snapped, "I've told you, you're not turning any of these places into a fucking larder. Are you out of your mind?" "Me?" Herrick had the gall to look at him like he was being ridiculous. "You're the one running around pretending to be human, putting a lyco through high school, and look at you-- you're still shaking. How long has it been since the last time you fed? Four months? Five?" Mitchell took a deep, irritated breath. "I've already told you," he said, "I don't expect you to understand. Just leave us alone, we're not getting in your hair."
Jack	Not a spy at all; Jack was maybe 50 feet down the alley when he heard their voices rise and stepped behind a dumpster to listen to the rest of the conversation. Not the most elegant cover he had ever found, and his hair would smell like fish for the rest of the day, but somehow he found himself hard-pressed to care. One didn't recognize things one didn't look for. Mitchell ate, and the day was sunnier than Sebastien would have dared, but -- of course. Jack could hardly expect every vampire in town to walk around wearing a helpful sign, could he? He squared his shoulders and pivoted, marching right back toward them. "I think you've been asked to leave a few times," he told Herrick, pointedly.
Herrick	See, and if Mitchell had known about the dumpster thing, he might almost have laughed - if it wasn't for the grimness of the situation. "This one's got a bite to him," Herrick observed, idly. "But I think you and I have done our business, right, Mitchell? Come on - come home, we'll get you your solutions, we'll work together. Just like old times." "Yeah," Mitchell said, casting Jack a quick, darting look of wondering just how much he'd overheard. "I'll think about that. Go." "Nice meeting you," Herrick said, tipping his hat at Jack, and preparing to leave.
Jack	The dumpster thing might be almost funny to Jack, too, if he didn't reek of three-day-old sushi. ... and if the situation were less grim. "A pleasure," Jack said, arms folded again. He didn't seem inclined to say more, or for that matter to move much at all until the man was gone. His questions could wait.
Mitchell	And so Herrick did leave, walking up Serendipity Place until he was out of sight. Mitchell didn't pay him much in the form of attention as he left; that might turn out to be a mistake. Instead, he turned his eyes on Jack. "Didn't you get the food?" he asked, because how much did you overhear and don't you know when to run and sorry you had to deal with that seemed a little revealing.
Jack	"I wasn't gone that long," Jack said neutrally, before deciding this was a bad week for playing games. "I heard, anyhow. Four or five months?" ... yes. That was the extraordinary bit.
Mitchell	Well, that answered those questions. Mitchell reached into his jacket, pulling out his packet of cigarettes. He began to walk, pulling out a cigarette as he passed Jack. "I manage," he said. "It wears off after a while."
Jack	"Just before you starve to death," Jack said, though clearly his teacher was in no danger of that. "My -- I live with someone like you, at home. Five days would be a long time for him."
Mitchell	"Sounds like a different breed," Mitchell supplied, slipping the cigarette between his lips. When it involved this, charm was far from his mind. "The blood lust goes away. It's what it leaves behind that's a problem." He pulled out his lighter, and lit it.
Jack	Jack was inclined to take Mitchell's word on that point. "It seems to be different breeds everywhere," he said, as he put his hands in his pockets and walked a bit faster to catch up. He was halfway convinced they did it just to be confusing, but he kept that thought to himself. "... what does it leave?"
Mitchell	"Memories," he said, stuffing the packet and the lighter back where they came from, inhaling the smoke. "Most fall off the wagon eventually just to get away from themselves. Take enough hits and you don't need to think about it." Apparently this whole exchange had made him philosophical. Who knew.
Jack	And this, Jack thought as he nodded, sounded all but exactly like Sebastien in one of his moods about his sire's death; maybe life as the oldest being they knew sent everyone philosophical. "You don't have other options?" he asked, mostly to check, since the philosophy behind it all had long since ceased being of much interest to him. "Willing donors, bottled blood, that kind of thing?"
Mitchell	"Bagged doesn't work, there's not enough life left," he said, blowing out some smoke. He took his cigarette between two fingers. "The other thing... no." Mitchell had issues keeping certain things seperate. It never ended well.
Jack	"If you don't need it ..." Which Jack didn't understand, but he didn't want to ask for the details. It would feel like a proposition and Jack couldn't keep some things separate, either. He let his sentence trail off instead. "But George is in your court." Wrong expression, he suspected, and he instantly clarified. "Under your protection, I mean."
Mitchell	"George has his own problems," Mitchell replied. He supposed that walked a fine line of telling Jack anything, although at least that meant he hadn't gotten all of the conversation. "He needed someone to watch out for him."
Jack	"And you volunteered," Jack said, looking up and at Mitchell. "Interesting. From what your friend was saying, it sounds as though most of your breed at home are more like him than like you."
CHARACTER	Mitchell shrugged. "Don't get near them," he just said, and looked at the boy at last. "How'd you get tangled up with one of us?"
Jack	"No, after this week the last thing I want to do is try to bond with most of them. I know you're safe." For his own particular and not entirely rational values of the term, anyhow. "And as for me -- I had poor parents in several senses of the term," Jack said, which wasn't really an answer. "How old are you?" Half of it was curiosity; half of it was for the sake of context.
Mitchell	Mitchell wasn't sure if he was safe, but he was going to let that one pass. "You're from-- 1899, right?" he checked. "I was born about four years before then. I was turned during the Great War." Which might have explained a few things about his classes.
Jack	It fit in dazzlingly well with his classes, really. "Born in 1881," Jack nodded. "So I am 15 years older -- in a way -- and Czech by birth. Anyhow, we still had indentured servants then in my world. I don't know about yours. There was a bad winter the year I turned five. My parents couldn't feed me so they sold me off." He'd learned to keep his voice neutral about that; it had been for the best, anyhow. "A few odd rolls of the dice, and Sebastien found me. I've been with him over a decade."
Mitchell	"You're still alive and healthy," Mitchell observed. "That's something. I guess." His opinion of other vampires was still... difficult.
Jack	"It's the different breeds thing," Jack volunteered as they closed in on the diner, with the slightest edge to his voice. He had done rather better than 'alive and healthy.' "At home, vampires usually only kill if they're too young to control themselves or sadistic. He's neither."
Mitchell	"Or maybe all of mine are simply sadists." He took another pull off his cigarette, tilting his head up at the diner. "This thing, what we are, makes it fairly easy to just say, 'oh, I'm a shark-- you can't blame me for acting like one
Jack	Jack hadn't thought about it that way; he frowned. "Perhaps," he said, at last. "Perhaps they feel a duty to live up to expectations. If everyone will think you're a monster, it's as easy to be one. It just makes things harder on those who aren't."
Mitchell	"Or they're just arseholes." Mitchell said. He sounded amused by it. "Looking for a quick fix. Dwelling on it is very glass-half-empty. I didn't come all the way here to deal with them."
Jack	"So why did you come all the way here?" Jack's tone was deliberately casual. "It didn't sound as if Herrick was entirely pleased by your choice."
Mitchell	"Because I wanted to be part of humanity again," he said, and there was nothing wry or casual about it. He was an optimist, at heart. "You can't do that by lurking around some alleys in Bristol, you've got to toss yourself at the churn of it."
Jack	"Ah." It made enough sense to Jack; he knew Sebastien was long since bored with the static seriousness of vampire courts. It was part of why they were in America, where there were far fewer of the blood to contend with. One more question, and he'd quit the quiz. "How do you find us?"
Mitchell	"It's worth it." Which was enough of an answer, really. He shrugged, and affected something close to his normal, friendly cool. "But I think we're just about ready to pick up the fine dining, yeah?" He'd talk to the boy again some other time.
Jack	"Who knows, they might even have found something useful by the time we get back," Jack nodded. He hadn't been too badly off-balance from the chat, but he still took a second to make sure he was absolutely composed. "Let's go." He'd talk to Mitchell again later.