A Pink Corner House, Bristol, Tuesday
It had been a decent week so far, but it had only been a single day; the interesting things were yet to come up ahead. So far, so good, though-- with the occasional hiccup, but Mitchell could deal with that.
---
Introducing Bernie to George went as follows:
"Hi. My new mate, Bernie."
"Boo! Hel-lo, lickle man."
"There's a boy like that at school."
"Bernie's twelve, George. Big one-two. Not four."
"Ah...dur. You wanna lager, Bernie?"
"Pop will be fine."
"Have a ciggy if you like. Mitchell smokes indoors."
"I don't smoke."
"Twelve, George."
Really, Mitchell shouldn't have expected any better.
---
Annie was a little depressing, though, but she was also invisible, so it became mostly a matter of making sure that Bernie didn't catch them looking in the wrong direction. Still, it'd be nice if they'd manage to cheer her up somehow; there was only so often you could listen to someone muttering 'Never hope, never dream' before it stopped being something to be sympathetic for.
And then Mitchell found out that Bernie didn't know squat about Laurel and Hardy: a capital offense in his book. He jotted it down in the back of his head as something to touch upon in his next class.
"Was the fat one Prime Minister?" Bernie asked, staring at his figurines.
"Oh, he might be thinking of Churchill!" George chirped, grinning.
"Or Hitler," Annie filled in, from the background, and pointed at her face. "Same 'tache."
With a large sigh, Mitchell rolled his eyes and ignored them. "Okay," he said, "Go to my room, it's upstairs besides the bathroom. Go to the bookcase, find the first Laurel and Hardy DVD you can find, and promise me you'll watch it tomorrow," he said to Bernie, instead. "You will laugh more than you've ever laughed before."
Bernie gave him a funny look. "Okay," he said, though, and quickly ran for the stairs. Mitchell sat back.
"How has he not ever heard of Laurel and Hardy?" he asked. "They're like the funniest men who ever lived!"
"Oh, that's someone who's never seen Ace Ventura," Annie commented, sulkily, and Mitchell shot her a look.
"Yeah, and that's someone with no taste," he shot back. He would have said more, too, if George hadn't interrupted him with libelous accusations.
"You, my friend, have a soppy streak. You keep it hidden really, very deeply hidden, but it's there." The little bastard had a self-satisfied look on his face, too, but Mitchell couldn't find it in himself to argue. He was a Good Guy now, wasn't he? More people were mentioning it. That was... that was good.
"Look after you two all right, don't I?" he said at last, lamely.
"And Kate," Annie had to admit, "And Chloe. But don't let it go to your head. Your ego is big enough as it is!"
Yeah. Yeah, he was... he was doing all right, wasn't he? His life was finally starting to make sense, he was doing good for some people, it was...
It was hope, was what it is; after all this time, he could finally admit it.
[[ nfb, nfi, ooc-okay, and taken from Being Human 1x04. Oh, Mitchell... dun dun dun duuun. ]]
---
Introducing Bernie to George went as follows:
"Hi. My new mate, Bernie."
"Boo! Hel-lo, lickle man."
"There's a boy like that at school."
"Bernie's twelve, George. Big one-two. Not four."
"Ah...dur. You wanna lager, Bernie?"
"Pop will be fine."
"Have a ciggy if you like. Mitchell smokes indoors."
"I don't smoke."
"Twelve, George."
Really, Mitchell shouldn't have expected any better.
---
Annie was a little depressing, though, but she was also invisible, so it became mostly a matter of making sure that Bernie didn't catch them looking in the wrong direction. Still, it'd be nice if they'd manage to cheer her up somehow; there was only so often you could listen to someone muttering 'Never hope, never dream' before it stopped being something to be sympathetic for.
And then Mitchell found out that Bernie didn't know squat about Laurel and Hardy: a capital offense in his book. He jotted it down in the back of his head as something to touch upon in his next class.
"Was the fat one Prime Minister?" Bernie asked, staring at his figurines.
"Oh, he might be thinking of Churchill!" George chirped, grinning.
"Or Hitler," Annie filled in, from the background, and pointed at her face. "Same 'tache."
With a large sigh, Mitchell rolled his eyes and ignored them. "Okay," he said, "Go to my room, it's upstairs besides the bathroom. Go to the bookcase, find the first Laurel and Hardy DVD you can find, and promise me you'll watch it tomorrow," he said to Bernie, instead. "You will laugh more than you've ever laughed before."
Bernie gave him a funny look. "Okay," he said, though, and quickly ran for the stairs. Mitchell sat back.
"How has he not ever heard of Laurel and Hardy?" he asked. "They're like the funniest men who ever lived!"
"Oh, that's someone who's never seen Ace Ventura," Annie commented, sulkily, and Mitchell shot her a look.
"Yeah, and that's someone with no taste," he shot back. He would have said more, too, if George hadn't interrupted him with libelous accusations.
"You, my friend, have a soppy streak. You keep it hidden really, very deeply hidden, but it's there." The little bastard had a self-satisfied look on his face, too, but Mitchell couldn't find it in himself to argue. He was a Good Guy now, wasn't he? More people were mentioning it. That was... that was good.
"Look after you two all right, don't I?" he said at last, lamely.
"And Kate," Annie had to admit, "And Chloe. But don't let it go to your head. Your ego is big enough as it is!"
Yeah. Yeah, he was... he was doing all right, wasn't he? His life was finally starting to make sense, he was doing good for some people, it was...
It was hope, was what it is; after all this time, he could finally admit it.
[[ nfb, nfi, ooc-okay, and taken from Being Human 1x04. Oh, Mitchell... dun dun dun duuun. ]]