One of God's children

He'd left Mina a message, but he had no idea whether she'd show up, or if she'd bring anyone. Still, staying off the island seemed like a more and more appealing prospect-- that is, if they didn't manage to the bottom of this and quickly.

Mitchell hadn't signed on to be the prime game in a witch hunt.

So now he was out there, waiting. (Maybe even dithering) He'd been trying to place a phone call all day, but he kept going back and forth on the decision. Finally, he hit call.

Waited.

Waited some more.

Wait-- "Seth," Mitchell said, rubbing his forehead, "Get me Herrick on the phone-- Seth. I mean it--" Pause. "Don't even start about Lauren. He's here, isn't he? Is this your work-- he's nipped out for a kebab. Brilliant. I don't care. Seth, has anyone ever told you you're a complete idiot? ... Yeah, there's a reason no one tells you anything-- you're staying out of that hospital. Seth. Just tell Herrick to phone me back. Think you can manage that?"

[[ nfb, but open to anyone who knows where he is. or phone calls ]]

While everyone else was braving the blizzard back in Fandom, Mitchell was utterly ignorant of the situation. George had been complaining a great deal about missing home; in the end, Mitchell had caved and dragged him off to Bristol for the weekend.

( A Vampire in Bristol. )

[[ nfb, nfi, OOC-okay, and taken (if mostly just in spirit) from the Being Human pilot. slightly nws, to finish up the acronyms ]]

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 had been researching... )

[[ NFI, NFB, OOC-okaaay ]]