chosehumanity | Entries tagged with persons: max

Mitchell got in from Baltimore sometime just past noon. He hadn't listened to the radio for a while; now he had oceans of time, and he was planning to use them to catch up. After all, you did get tired of having a sixteen-year-old accuse you of being unaware what was going on all the time.

The first thing he did when he finished was leave a voicemail. The second thing he did was - post-squirrel-checking the room - launch a diatribe over the phone to George about stupid bloody vampires who didn't know how to clean up after themselves or work the system. (He'd contemplated calling Mina despite their rusty truce, but he didn't particularly feel like helping out on this whole mad hunt by waking up any potential sleeping dragons about anyone else)

The third thing he did was flop down on the couch with a beer, cross his arms, put on a film that wasn't at all thematic for his feelings about the whole thing at large, and brood.

If he'd had any inclination of letting Fandom at large know about himself, it was firmly gone by now.

[[ ever get a post stuck in your head during your trip home? post open to anyone who'd have a reason to show up or call ]]

Current Music: 'Howl', Florence and the Machine (Being Human S2 theme)

Mitchell'd abandoned Max to his brunette somewhere late last night, in the hotel they'd wound up at as the night progressed. He'd taken to the streets in the dark, just wandering around as he got a feel for the place. Smoking, he'd given his own thoughts some space now that his Max-enforced shallowness had to dissipate and give way for what was actually troubling him.

He was just trying to belong, he realised. It was that first great human impulse, to find shelter, somewhere to hide from whatever was lurking on the fringes, waiting for its next meal. The last few days had been a jagged reminder that it was unlikely he was actually to become part of it; even George did better than that.

He returned to the hotel early in the morning. By ten, he had Max dragged out into the hotel's restaurant for breakfast before they started to look into returning to Fandom.

If it was still as on fire with hormones as it was when he'd left it, Mitchell might've considered staying away - except that the full moon was on Sunday, and he wasn't missing that.

"So, is that craft any good for hangovers?"

[ for max, and nfb due to distance! ]

You had good days, and you had bad days, in Mitchell's position. Saturday had been a good, if baffling day.

Monday wasn't as good.

He made it to his office regardless of anything going on (wouldn't mess this one up), but he kept mostly to his seat, staring holes into the wall beside the door. Whether it was the memories running stronger than usual or some surge of bloodlust he was having trouble surpressing, something kept him in that suspended state of-- brooding, of thinking, of trying to keep the dark things away, to focus on the light spots that dragged any being through what horrors life might occasionally cast at them.

Mitchell, unlike some people he knew, was not a glass-half-empty kind of man, so he endured.

Life settles. That's the one thing you can rely on. Sometimes it gets shaken and it seems like there's no end to this vast-- tornado, these endless forces of chaos, and yet it always-- settles again.

[[ the post, however, is open, as is the door, and he will totally try to cheerful it up for you ]]

Current Music: 'St. Petersburg', Supergrass

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One of God's children

(kind but untamed/a terrible man, a great man)

Entries tagged with persons: max

71 Serendipity, Thursday Late Afternoon

Restaurant, Some Hotel On The Mainland, Saturday Morning

Office #26, Monday

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April 2014

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