A Pink Corner House, Bristol, Saturday Afternoon
Mitchell woke up slowly, sluggishly even, in his bed. Sunlight filtered in through the curtains, subdued and pushed aside enough that it didn't sting his eyes. The blankets were heavy-- ...
Too heavy.
He turned his head. "Have you been sitting there long?"
Annie pasted a smile on her face, and fidgeted with the blankets. "Define long," she said. That nervous laugh tainted her voice. What was going on here?
"An hour," he said, groggily, and forced himself to sit up. Rubbed a hand over his eye, and looked at her questioningly.
"I've been here long," she admitted. "You know, it's five o' clock now. You've been asleep all day, you lazy twat." She pressed her hands between her legs and leaned over, grinning. "So, are you going to the island tonight?"
Mitchell blinked again. Much as he liked having her around the place, having a ghost pop up in your bedroom at all hours was still something you needed to get used to. "No, the Real Hustle's on. It's just repeats, but I haven't seen them yet," he replied, squinting. "...so, I'm going to get up now."
"Okay," Annie said, excitedly, and practically bounced in place. It seemed to take her a minute to catch on. "Oh! Right!" She veered up, smiling nervously, and padded back towards the door.
It was there that she spun around. "Last week, George asked me about death," she started, hesitantly. "He asked me what I saw, and I..." She sighed. "He's religious, right?"
"Yeah," Mitchell said, rolling over onto his side. "He's Jewish."
She shook her heaad, rubbed her fingers into her hair. "I told him it was a good place," she said, "I said it was like in films, I told him..." Her voice increasingly desperate, she dropped her hand back to her side. "You've seen it too, haven't you? Death." Her back hit the door. "You've seen the corridor, with men at the end with... with sticks and rope."
Ah. So that was the problem.
Mitchell closed his eyes, and sighed. "You did the right thing," he said, after a moment, and sought out her eyes. "He doesn't need to know that. None of them do." He found the strength in himself to flash her a quick smile.
None of them did.
Tentatively, she smiled back. For the first time, it was genuine again; it made her look, for lack of a better word, cute. "Okay," she said, and nodded once, a short, quick movement. "I'll just... leave you to it, then."
[[ NFB, NFI, OOC-oaky, and taken, tweaked, warped and timeline-deprived from the Being Human pilot. ]]
Too heavy.
He turned his head. "Have you been sitting there long?"
Annie pasted a smile on her face, and fidgeted with the blankets. "Define long," she said. That nervous laugh tainted her voice. What was going on here?
"An hour," he said, groggily, and forced himself to sit up. Rubbed a hand over his eye, and looked at her questioningly.
"I've been here long," she admitted. "You know, it's five o' clock now. You've been asleep all day, you lazy twat." She pressed her hands between her legs and leaned over, grinning. "So, are you going to the island tonight?"
Mitchell blinked again. Much as he liked having her around the place, having a ghost pop up in your bedroom at all hours was still something you needed to get used to. "No, the Real Hustle's on. It's just repeats, but I haven't seen them yet," he replied, squinting. "...so, I'm going to get up now."
"Okay," Annie said, excitedly, and practically bounced in place. It seemed to take her a minute to catch on. "Oh! Right!" She veered up, smiling nervously, and padded back towards the door.
It was there that she spun around. "Last week, George asked me about death," she started, hesitantly. "He asked me what I saw, and I..." She sighed. "He's religious, right?"
"Yeah," Mitchell said, rolling over onto his side. "He's Jewish."
She shook her heaad, rubbed her fingers into her hair. "I told him it was a good place," she said, "I said it was like in films, I told him..." Her voice increasingly desperate, she dropped her hand back to her side. "You've seen it too, haven't you? Death." Her back hit the door. "You've seen the corridor, with men at the end with... with sticks and rope."
Ah. So that was the problem.
Mitchell closed his eyes, and sighed. "You did the right thing," he said, after a moment, and sought out her eyes. "He doesn't need to know that. None of them do." He found the strength in himself to flash her a quick smile.
None of them did.
Tentatively, she smiled back. For the first time, it was genuine again; it made her look, for lack of a better word, cute. "Okay," she said, and nodded once, a short, quick movement. "I'll just... leave you to it, then."
[[ NFB, NFI, OOC-oaky, and taken, tweaked, warped and timeline-deprived from the Being Human pilot. ]]