[Not that that's bad. He glances around again, his nose wrinkled a little.]
And what d'you mean, mine's unlived in, I've lived here for a month! A whole space month, don't tell me yours is more lived in when you've hardly been here.
I'm not-- sufferin' from PMT or anything, all right, I don't get moody. I don't like being on this bloody ship, but no one does, that's not some crime. And I don't need him trying to analyze me, or-- whatever he was doing!
[Momentarily speechless, because he can't sort out if he wants to be hurt or offended by her impression of him. Her really bad impression, by the way, there's no way that's what he sounds like--]
I've never said any of that stuff in my life-- is this what you did with him, did you sit around and do bad impressions of me? [And more importantly--] And by the way? There's nothing wrong with the Real Hustle, it's a quality programme-- just because you can't appreciate it--and if it's so obvious that it's because I don't like the ship, why are we even talkin' about this?
Look, Annie-- I'm-- [God, why is this so hard, why does it feel like he's pushing her away--well, easy answer there would be because he is, but then why the hell is it so painful to do, why does he feel like he's hurting her when all he wants is to protect her--] I don't want you wasting your time on me. That's all.
And I don't want you feeling like you've got to answer to anyone. Who the hell is this guy, that he thinks he can corner you and just-- demand answers of you?
[...and he waits a few seconds to see if she'll just pop back, but she doesn't--]
Annie, come on!
[...nope she's gone. and, irritated, Mitchell kicks at her stupid unused bed. and he's just going to sulk in here for a little while, thanks, on the off chance she comes back sometime soon. maybe make an angry call to Edgeworth. maybe just brood. whatever.]
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[...well, it's true. But that doesn't mean he's not going to be a little offended I mean really Annie...]
What're you talkin' about-- you've barely been in my room, you can't call it uncomfortable if you've barely been in it!
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[So pleased.]
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[Not that that's bad. He glances around again, his nose wrinkled a little.]
And what d'you mean, mine's unlived in, I've lived here for a month! A whole space month, don't tell me yours is more lived in when you've hardly been here.
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[She says it sort of brightly]
Also have you been going around being dark and angry at people? I think Mr. Edgeworth thinks you're on the edge of suicide.
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Well, you're a better decorator than I am, that's not exactly news. And why're you talkin' to that guy, anyways-- what did he say?
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[Urgh Mitchell. She crosses her arms.]
I didn't tell him anything.
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[He sounds nearly disgusted by this, like how dare anyone be worried about him, because he doesn't need worry, not from anyone--]
Look, what exactly did you tell him, just so we've got the same story.
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[Which she firmly believes. But she also knows he'll deny.]
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[Yep, here he is, denying it, right on cue.]
I'm not-- sufferin' from PMT or anything, all right, I don't get moody. I don't like being on this bloody ship, but no one does, that's not some crime. And I don't need him trying to analyze me, or-- whatever he was doing!
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[And she lowers her voice and scowls]
I'm John Mitchell, there's no point to being here,, I'm cranky because I'm the walking undead, let's watch the Real Hustle-"
[And back to normal]
Thing that you do. Obviously it's because you don't like the ship.
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[Momentarily speechless, because he can't sort out if he wants to be hurt or offended by her impression of him. Her really bad impression, by the way, there's no way that's what he sounds like--]
I've never said any of that stuff in my life-- is this what you did with him, did you sit around and do bad impressions of me? [And more importantly--] And by the way? There's nothing wrong with the Real Hustle, it's a quality programme-- just because you can't appreciate it--and if it's so obvious that it's because I don't like the ship, why are we even talkin' about this?
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[SILENCE]
Well, it's all right, because I have it sorted.
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What d'you mean, you have it sorted, what exactly happened?
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[See? Sorted.]
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Annie... [And just. A sigh.] You didn't have t' tell him that, you didn't have t' tell him anything.
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[Really, Mitchell, she has no one else on board stop making her feel invisible.]
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Look, Annie-- I'm-- [God, why is this so hard, why does it feel like he's pushing her away--well, easy answer there would be because he is, but then why the hell is it so painful to do, why does he feel like he's hurting her when all he wants is to protect her--] I don't want you wasting your time on me. That's all.
And I don't want you feeling like you've got to answer to anyone. Who the hell is this guy, that he thinks he can corner you and just-- demand answers of you?
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[She looks - hurt. Not offended. Hurt, deeply, terribly hurt.]
Fine.
[And poof. She rentaghosts away.]
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[...and he waits a few seconds to see if she'll just pop back, but she doesn't--]
Annie, come on!
[...nope she's gone. and, irritated, Mitchell kicks at her stupid unused bed. and he's just going to sulk in here for a little while, thanks, on the off chance she comes back sometime soon. maybe make an angry call to Edgeworth. maybe just brood. whatever.]