One of God's children

"...Now this here is your room, isn't that fantastic? I think there's a game of Buckaroo downstairs-- one of the other guests must have left it behind."

"Buckafuckingroo?"

The surly teenager standing before George gave him a look that went beyond disbelief. George, being George (and being rather preoccupied with sorting out the boy's sheets) did not let that throw him off his stride. "Yes," he said, decidedly. "It's a fantastic game for two to eight players-- oh, forget it, I'm just trying to think of things to keep you occupied."

... so yes, George handled it exactly like George Sands would.

"I can keep myself occupied," the little vampire said, sighing, and sat down on the bed.

It took a few moments before that one made it through to George's brain, but as soon as it did, he dropped the pillow. "Oh god, you're a teenage boy, of course you can." Ew ew ew ew ew.

"Hello!"

George had never been that happy to see Annie before.

"Don't you ever knock?" the boy - Adam - said, eyeballing Annie.

"Oh, I don't have to, being a ghost has some perks," Annie said. She had a smile on her face, her hips shifting a little as she spoke.

"Well, not around me, I don't want ghosts popping up all over the place, it freaks me out," Adam complained.

"You're a forty-six year old vampire," George pointed out, taking a moment to eyeball Adam right back, "who dresses like a child. Don't call her freaky."

"Anyway," Annie said, clearing her throat, "I'm just stopping by to see how you boys are getting on."

"Badly," George said.

Adam leaned over and kicked him.

George nearly toppled over, spun around on one foot, balanced precariously on it for several moments before setting it down on the floor and letting go of a belated, "Ow!"

He pointed a finger at Adam. "He just kicked me!" he shrieked. "I-- Annie! Tell him off!"

The look Annie gave him made it clear that this was not the most mature, manly thing she had ever heard George declare, but also that it wasn't exactly in the running for the least mature, manly thing he had ever said.

George sighed. "I need to call Mitchell," he said. "Again. He's still not answering his phone."

"You've left ten messages," Annie pointed out. "Maybe it's time we tried something else."

"Yeah," George said, rubbing the back of his head and giving Adam the stink-eye. "But who else do we know who knows anything about vampires--"

His eyes met Annie's eyes.

"Right," George said, and dashed-slash-stumbled-slash-flailed his way out the door towards the phone.

[[ for he who has been handwavily summoned here, and myself. Parts taken from Being Human 3x01: Adam's Family ]]

George sat at the breakfast table with an untouched cup of tea, doing what he had been doing for most of last week... nothing, staring at the walls, trying not cry.

All right, so during the full moon things had gotten a bit... interesting... between him and Nina, so that had broken up the staring somewhat, but... that had only lasted so long. So now he sat here, and nursed his tea, and barely met Nina's eyes the few times she tried to get to him.

Then the door behind him opened, thudding against the wall, and he jerked up. Oh god-- would it be Mitchell and Annie? Were they back?

Some of the hope fled him as he looked: it was Mitchell, alive-- well, undead-- and well, thank god, but no sign of Annie.

No sign of Annie.

He couldn't deal with it any longer. The tears wrestled their way out and he sobbed out loud; no doubt he looked as ugly as he felt.

... and then the sound of tea clattering into his mug pulled him out of it. He looked up and stared directly into Annie's face, and her smile, god-- George hurled himself at her, hugging her tight, as behind him Nina did the same to Mitchell.

Mitchell-- pulled out his phone, and texted a quick, We're back!!! to the people who'd care. Then the three of them took Annie and dragged her from room to room, showing off their new home, and celebrating the return of a friend.

[[ open to texts! Taken from Being Human 3x01. I miss this show, I really do. ]]

The 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. )

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. ]]

"You've got some fucking nerve," Nina growled. Blonde, tiny Nina, who had to reach pretty far up high to kiss George-- she had Lucy by the throat up against the wall, and she did not look happy.

It was fairly understandable, if you asked Mitchell. Though he wasn't sure he could stand here through Lucy's pleading.

"Is your friend with you?" she snapped.

( She came here on her own, Nina. )

---

( Do you... trust her? )

---

( He brought Lucy a pillow and his old jacket for a blanket. 'Here. There's milk and bread and stuff in the fridge.' )

[[ to be finished tomorrow, since it's a whole lot to write up in one day. NFB, NFI, OOC-okay, and taken and only slightly tweaked from Being Human 2x8! ]]

Bodies. Bodies and blood and flickering lights and no one to protect her.

( Lucy's entire being thrummed with terror. )

[[ NFB, NFI, OOC-okay. Takes place after this, and preplayed with the usual succubus-vampire suspects of awesome. Taken from Being Human 2x08, aaand we're done. ]]

Three weeks, and Mitchell had been nowhere near Fandom. If there was a crisis going on right now, he didn't even know. He'd had his own shit going on. Three weeks of corralling vampires, getting a twelve-step program going, convincing Ivan to stand by him and talk the vampires of Bristol into quitting the blood.

Three weeks of having to tell the bastards ad nauseum that 'we no longer drink blood' did not mean '...except if it's a willing goth girl we plucked off the internet as a gift for the boss', three weeks of support circles and clapping each other on the shoulder, three weeks of coming home to find George completely not dealing with Nina leaving by promptly throwing himself at some other girl.

He had thought of Fandom occasionally, but every time he was going to make time to leave, some other Situation cropped up.

Like this morning. He'd wanted to go back to the island and open up the theatre. Instead, he was getting lifted off his bed by the police bright and early, cuffed, thrown into a patrol car, and driven off to the ( police station. )

[[ nfb, and taken from Being Human 2x05 with references to 2x04 because I'm skipping ahead a bit. Warning: references to pedophilia. Open for phone calls, if you're anywhere where you can reach him ]]

At least Cara had been true to her word: all the vampires in Bristol had packed into the Old Church. The bad end of that was that all the vampires in Bristol were packed into the Old Church, turning the place into a loud, dirty hive of less-than-civilised vampires. It almost made Mitchell miss Sebastien.

He scraped his throat, and began to talk, except no one was listening. Or rather, they were; they just didn't give a crap. So he tried again, and wound up in the middle of an argument-- about lifestyle changes, and how much they were possible. That kind of thing.

Then the rest of them started in with the yelling and the belligerence and the complete fucking lack of perspective on just how crap their situation was.

Before Mitchell knew it, he'd pushed himself up onto the stage and put his big boy voice on.

"Do you people have any fucking idea who I am? My name is John Mitchell. And I've killed more people than you've met!"

There. Now they were listening.

( And so, hours later, in the dark, Mitchell dragged himself homeward to find he'd missed a house meeting. )

February was not shaping up to be a good month.

[[ nfb, nfi, ooc-okay, and half-assed from taken from Being Human 2x03 ]]

After kicking Hannibal off the island, Mitchell hadn't really felt much like staying. It was starting to feel like everything ever was falling back into shit on him, and he just wanted ... something. Something nice. Something good. Something that wasn't about crying teenagers, or sitting at home feeling useless, or beating up stupid fledglings with more balls than sense.

So he figured he'd go look up George at hospital, see how he was coming along, try very hard not to bring up Nina's condition... ...except George had, upon arrival, immediately informed him that he was busy, go hang about the restrooms or something, skulking's what you do best.

Which was lovely. Really.

He sighed, and ( pushed into the bathroom. )

[[ nfb, nfi, ooc-okay, and taken from Being Human S2E01! ]]