invisibilitea | IC CONTACT

[People go to bizarre lengths to summon ghosts. There's whole rituals for it, special candles to burn, there's incantations and complex seating arrangements and what's especially stupid about all of it is that the ghosts are probably already there, probably sitting in one of those chairs and idly fucking with the candle flame.

And you especially don't have to summon Annie. You just-- show up to her room, which they've adopted as the de facto hang out room (all it's missing is a sofa and a TV and maybe a DVD player; it's well-decorated with the traditional smattering of cold mugs of tea), and sit on her bed, and wait.

Which is what Mitchell is doing, right now, his back against the wall. It's a posture slightly more relaxed than he actually feels--but he's used to that. That's his life, more or less, constantly at odds and trying not to show it.]

[If this were the house, she would have known already - the house is different, it's like an extension of her, that's why the plumbing kept breaking. But here it's a little different, she hasn't gotten the feel of the place, so he ends up waiting a little while before she pops in, and there's a look of surprise on his face.

It's soon replaced with a pleased smile and she plops on the bed next to him.]

Did you know that the Gardens go down for what seems like miles?

[Annie's cheerfulness is sometimes overwhelming, or frustrating--but mostly it's endearing, and Mitchell's mood lifts slightly. He gives her a small fond smile, shifting one hand off his chest so he can lay it on top of hers.]

I did not know that, no. Is that where you've been? What d'you mean, they 'go down'--there's just level after level of garden?

[She turns her hand so she can hold his]

Yes! I went down and down, but then I thought someone might be looking for me so I came back. But it gets more like a jungle the further in you get.

A ghost on safari. Well, I'm sorry t' have torn you away from that, you can go back exploring, if you like.

[But he squeezes at her hand, gently, like that's the last thing he wants her to do. Despite everything else that's happened and is happening, Annie is a stabilising presence.]

I got George a new pot, too. From one of the other kitchens. He seemed like he was in a bit of a mood.

[She's not going anywhere, now she's got her legs up to her chest, and she's leaning against Mitchell.]

I think I'm all right for exploring.

[Well, good, that's an arrangement that suits him perfectly right now. He even leans over and presses a kiss to the top of her head, like that's going to help to keep her just there.]

If you're getting him a pot every time he's in a bit of a mood, we're going t' be up to our eyeballs in cookware before the week is out.

[Now she's definitely not moving]

Is that positive reinforcement? Oh, I shouldn't train him like a dog, should I?

Pro-obably not. And if you say anything about 'training him like a dog' when he's around, you're going t' be getting him apology presents for months, so watch yourself. You know how he gets.

[Which is only half exaggeration and joke. George is masterful at acting wounded, as they both well know.]

He owes me, he told me he would love a life of being invisible.

[Scoff. What was he thinking, really.]

Oh, nice.

Well, he can be an arsehole sometimes, our George. [It's dismissive, but also fond, like bless his heart, he's a bit of a bastard.] Plus he actually would hate that? Who would hear his suffering sighs? He could do 'em a million times, no one would so much as notice--

[Solemnly, he shakes his head.]

Nah. But you can definitely get away with dog jokes t' make up for that little comment. Play on his guilt.

[She nudges him a little]

I don't know if I'm quite mean enough. But oh, oh, Mitchell-

[She has a bit of a look on her face]

Can we go on a date?

[No, she likely isn't mean enough, even if it's only a joke--and it is only a joke, there's no way he'd ever think anything of the sort seriously, and he'd make that clear to George, and he's just about to defend himself with that when she suggests--]

A date?

I know we're stuck on this terrible ship and everything bad keeps happening but-

[She smiles at him, and squeezes his hand]

-can't we pretend we're normal?

[Dates are not normal, Mitchell might tell her--not for him. Dates never end normally. His recent attempts have ended up as crime scenes or bloodbaths, one way or another. Dates are associated with sex, with feeding, with giving over to urges he'd rather not think of. He can have a drink with a girl, but even while he's being charming and sipping at his pint and laughing at her stories, and her jokes, he's got one eye on her throat and his hands clenched in fists, trying to hold himself back, and that's not even good enough, most times.

That's not who anyone wants to date--what anyone wants to date. He thinks of Lucy, the paleness of her bare skin in a darkened room. Is he thinking about the night at her place, or the night at the facility? The memories seem almost intertwined.

But when he looks at Annie's smile, something in him thaws, a little. How can he kill that in her? She would be happy. God, he wants her to be happy.]

What would, uh. What would we do?

[She remembers dates differently. She remembers that catch when Owen laughed, that smile. Dates were happy, because dates were before he ever hurt her, before she was ever just slightly afraid of him.

Not that she would ever admit that.

She just wants something normal for them. Something that isn't ghosts and vampires and werewolves.]

I don't know. I could ask around and find someone who has an idea. Maybe we could go to that bar.

[Quickly:]

No, we could-- work out on our own what t' do. We're both, y'know. We've... done dates before, we know what they're about.

[He pushes his hair back from his face with his free hand, distractedly.]

We could. Do that. If you wanted. The space pub, or-- whatever you thought up.

It could be fun! We could go out and I could tease you about how I'm not wearing underwear, and you could...well, actually, I hadn't thought about what you would do.

[At least she admits that much.]

....Oh my God.

[a n n i e
you can't just say

right just give him a second not to choke on absolutely nothing at all]

Where d'you come up with these things?

[She looks affronted for a moment, gosh Mitchell-]

Don't tell me you've never had someone say that to you before! Lean in during the middle of dinner and whisper it in your ear, I refuse to believe some girl hasn't tried that with you already-

[Well that's upsetting she doesn't want to think about another girl hitting on Mitchell, that's just offensive-]

Anyway, we both know it's not true.

No-- I mean, yeah, but--

[It never ended well, for starters. And anyways, this is Annie, if she's going to start going on about--

Well, it's not that it's bad. It's a good thought. Definitely good. But--]

'Cause-- you're permanently wearing it? [That's what she means by 'not true', right?]

Yeah, but - that's what girls do, you know, when a man looks like you do-

[Pause. Well, except for the heroin chic thing]

And yes. Unfortunately.

[GIRLS LIKE THE HEROIN CHIC jesus christ

Anyway. There's a beat; he looks down at their hands and, after a second, squeezes at her hand.]

We could just... do the date, thing. Worry about ghost panties later. Right?

[No, Mitchell. They don't.

Okay maybe they do.]

Yes! Real dating. Like real people.

Like real people.

[He gives her that smile again, the one nearly reserved for her and her alone. And he isn't sure about this, really, but-- it's Annie, isn't it. He's eaten dinners with Annie (so to speak), he's watched movies, he's sat right beside her on a sofa. How different can it be?]

You just-- tell me when.

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