A Pub in Bristol, Wednesday Afternoon
"So, you've just arrived at Squidwarts, which house do they put you in?"
Apparently Mitchell thought this was a perfectly sane line of conversation after dragging George out of a filthy cellar covered in clawmarks after a full moon. And meeting his ex-girlfriend there. And finding out Annie was finally visible now, and able to get out of the house.
The thing was, he could get the details later.
George mused on it for a moment or two. "I'd like to say the Gryffins, but they're supposed to be brave," he said, lifting his pint and taking a quick sip. "What's the other one? Ravenbeak, does that have a characteristic?"
Mitchell grinned. His finger tapped his glass. "I think they're brainy," he said. George was a spazz, but he had quite a mind on him. "You could be in Ravenbeak."
"I quite fancy Puffinhuffle actually," Annie contributed. She beamed - being visible was working for her. "I've always thought in Puffinhuffle they just spend the day making stuff with safety scissors and glitter."
"What about you?"
For once, George seemed reasonably content to be near Annie. Mellow, even. That was a good sign.
Mitchell shifted in his seat and gave it a good, long thought. "I think that that hat would say..." he started, and observed their expectant faces, "'It's probably best if you just stay in the canteen for the next five years.'"
That earned him a sigh from George, but it was probably the truth.
Annie snickered, though, and added, "Does anyone ever 'choose' the Snakerin one?"
George's pint hit the table, and he snorted in disbelief. "No, because that would be like saying 'I'm a sociopath.'"
A chuckle boiled up from Mitchell's throat. Maybe he would fit. "Fair enough," he said, and shifted his coaster a bit underneath the glass. It was getting a bit soggy with the lager he'd spilled earlier. "So what happened?"
They were relaxed enough for the million-dollar question now. George shrugged. "My... ex followed me into the cellar," he said, "She locked us in because she felt we needed to talk."
"Oof." Mitchell winced sympathetically.
"Anyway, then we couldn't get out; I phoned you, but you didn't pick up..."
"I was on the phone with Portalocity," Mitchell pointed out, "I was trying to get here."
George waved it off. "So I phoned the house instead. Annie picked up, I asked her to come--"
"--and I did," Annie enthused, grinning. "I walked right to the hospital in the end, and I unlocked the door. And she could see me, Mitchell! I talked to her!"
There was nothing that kind of unadultered joy deserved more than a beaming smile. "Excellent," said Mitchell, "Now, who wants another pint...?"
[[ nfb, nfi, ooc-okay, and the last full scene I'm taking from the Being Human pilot. Probably. *squishes the gang* ]]
Apparently Mitchell thought this was a perfectly sane line of conversation after dragging George out of a filthy cellar covered in clawmarks after a full moon. And meeting his ex-girlfriend there. And finding out Annie was finally visible now, and able to get out of the house.
The thing was, he could get the details later.
George mused on it for a moment or two. "I'd like to say the Gryffins, but they're supposed to be brave," he said, lifting his pint and taking a quick sip. "What's the other one? Ravenbeak, does that have a characteristic?"
Mitchell grinned. His finger tapped his glass. "I think they're brainy," he said. George was a spazz, but he had quite a mind on him. "You could be in Ravenbeak."
"I quite fancy Puffinhuffle actually," Annie contributed. She beamed - being visible was working for her. "I've always thought in Puffinhuffle they just spend the day making stuff with safety scissors and glitter."
"What about you?"
For once, George seemed reasonably content to be near Annie. Mellow, even. That was a good sign.
Mitchell shifted in his seat and gave it a good, long thought. "I think that that hat would say..." he started, and observed their expectant faces, "'It's probably best if you just stay in the canteen for the next five years.'"
That earned him a sigh from George, but it was probably the truth.
Annie snickered, though, and added, "Does anyone ever 'choose' the Snakerin one?"
George's pint hit the table, and he snorted in disbelief. "No, because that would be like saying 'I'm a sociopath.'"
A chuckle boiled up from Mitchell's throat. Maybe he would fit. "Fair enough," he said, and shifted his coaster a bit underneath the glass. It was getting a bit soggy with the lager he'd spilled earlier. "So what happened?"
They were relaxed enough for the million-dollar question now. George shrugged. "My... ex followed me into the cellar," he said, "She locked us in because she felt we needed to talk."
"Oof." Mitchell winced sympathetically.
"Anyway, then we couldn't get out; I phoned you, but you didn't pick up..."
"I was on the phone with Portalocity," Mitchell pointed out, "I was trying to get here."
George waved it off. "So I phoned the house instead. Annie picked up, I asked her to come--"
"--and I did," Annie enthused, grinning. "I walked right to the hospital in the end, and I unlocked the door. And she could see me, Mitchell! I talked to her!"
There was nothing that kind of unadultered joy deserved more than a beaming smile. "Excellent," said Mitchell, "Now, who wants another pint...?"
[[ nfb, nfi, ooc-okay, and the last full scene I'm taking from the Being Human pilot. Probably. *squishes the gang* ]]