An Apartment in Baltimore, Late Late Wednesday Evening
It'd been some kind of long-term long-distance whim in going to Lauren's funeral this week. There was a reason why George had shown up, of course. You honoured the people you lost, and she'd been...
Okay, she'd just been. But now he was home. Very, very late at night, possibly the next morning, but he was home.
That there, though, was a tangle of thoughts that had led George to ponder and muse and drive himself insane ever since he'd left Lauren's memorial for the airport. He sighed, and strode the way down the hallway of the communal area (serious to god, Mitchell was a hundred years old, you'd think he'd be able to afford a washroom that wasn't parked outside the actual apartments) to wash his face in the sink. Nevermind it all; he was likely just being a bit of an idiot.
And then someone tapped him on the shoulder.
"Boo."
George practically leaped out of his skin. "Gnyaargh!"
After that manly moment of surprise, he began to turn, taking in her pale skin, dark hair, dark eyes-- "L," he started, closed his mouth, and began anew. "...Lauren?"
"Surprise," she breathed.
Her mouth split open into a grin, and she asked, innocently, "Did you enjoy my memorial service?" She tilted her head. "It's a shame Mitchell couldn't make it. Maybe he'll come to yours?"
There was consternation on George's face, and that made Lauren laugh. "Awww," she pouted, "Your face. This must be really confusing. Let me explain." She shot the ceiling a thoughtful look before coming back around. "Before I died, I had this one, odd last thought..." She beamed. "And now I'm going to make it yours."
She slinked towards George, backing him up against the sink, the picture of a tiger in human form. "You know, all those things you were scared of as a kid? All the monsters under your bed?" She leaned in. "They're all. Real."
Her eyes shifted into a murky black, her teeth sharpening--
George didn't budge. Not a muscle.
"...Okay," Lauren said, blinking, and stepped back. "...I'm kind of new to this," she explained, sounding somewhat confused, "But aren't you supposed to weep, or scream, or... wee yourself?"
There were too many facts flying around George's head not to come to the one, grisly conclusion.
His shock faded. "Mitchell did this to you," he said, with rock-hard certainty. His voice felt a little off.
"What, you know?"
The last dark, childish glee abandoned Lauren's features, leaving something else in its wake. "You know what he is?"
She stared at George. Something was dawning on her, too. "Wait a sec," she said, and reached forward, snagging him by the shirt and yanking him towards her. She took a good whiff of his scent and--
"Oh my god," she said, pacing right back again. "A werewolf?"
She pulled a face. "Creepy."
With that, she stalked back out of the washroom.
George inhaled deeply. He inhaled again a second time.
Oh god.
[[ nfi, nfb, ooc-okay, and taken from Being Human 1x01. Trouble this way comes! posted early because I don't know the state of my connection tonight ]]
Okay, she'd just been. But now he was home. Very, very late at night, possibly the next morning, but he was home.
That there, though, was a tangle of thoughts that had led George to ponder and muse and drive himself insane ever since he'd left Lauren's memorial for the airport. He sighed, and strode the way down the hallway of the communal area (serious to god, Mitchell was a hundred years old, you'd think he'd be able to afford a washroom that wasn't parked outside the actual apartments) to wash his face in the sink. Nevermind it all; he was likely just being a bit of an idiot.
And then someone tapped him on the shoulder.
"Boo."
George practically leaped out of his skin. "Gnyaargh!"
After that manly moment of surprise, he began to turn, taking in her pale skin, dark hair, dark eyes-- "L," he started, closed his mouth, and began anew. "...Lauren?"
"Surprise," she breathed.
Her mouth split open into a grin, and she asked, innocently, "Did you enjoy my memorial service?" She tilted her head. "It's a shame Mitchell couldn't make it. Maybe he'll come to yours?"
There was consternation on George's face, and that made Lauren laugh. "Awww," she pouted, "Your face. This must be really confusing. Let me explain." She shot the ceiling a thoughtful look before coming back around. "Before I died, I had this one, odd last thought..." She beamed. "And now I'm going to make it yours."
She slinked towards George, backing him up against the sink, the picture of a tiger in human form. "You know, all those things you were scared of as a kid? All the monsters under your bed?" She leaned in. "They're all. Real."
Her eyes shifted into a murky black, her teeth sharpening--
George didn't budge. Not a muscle.
"...Okay," Lauren said, blinking, and stepped back. "...I'm kind of new to this," she explained, sounding somewhat confused, "But aren't you supposed to weep, or scream, or... wee yourself?"
There were too many facts flying around George's head not to come to the one, grisly conclusion.
His shock faded. "Mitchell did this to you," he said, with rock-hard certainty. His voice felt a little off.
"What, you know?"
The last dark, childish glee abandoned Lauren's features, leaving something else in its wake. "You know what he is?"
She stared at George. Something was dawning on her, too. "Wait a sec," she said, and reached forward, snagging him by the shirt and yanking him towards her. She took a good whiff of his scent and--
"Oh my god," she said, pacing right back again. "A werewolf?"
She pulled a face. "Creepy."
With that, she stalked back out of the washroom.
George inhaled deeply. He inhaled again a second time.
Oh god.
[[ nfi, nfb, ooc-okay, and taken from Being Human 1x01. Trouble this way comes! posted early because I don't know the state of my connection tonight ]]