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Mystery Sign Theatre, Saturday

The theater staff had said something cheerfully about 'playing a fun old comedy to lead in the new year', but Mitchell hadn't really been listening. After a while, they'd caught on to it: the boss's dorky demeanour was gone, replaced by something colder, and a little more alien. They decided to make themselves scarce as a result, albeit not before putting up the sign.

TODAY'S SHOWING:
LADS IN LEGGINGS
HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Mitchell's New Year was not. Panicked text messages in his phone predicted rather auspicious things for the next few days, at that. Not just here, but in Bristol. Fucking brilliant.

[ open! ]

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Get some food, meet up!

A classic comedy in which Mel Brooks adds his own personal touch to the tale of Sherwood, parodying traditional adventure films, romance films, and the whole idea of men running around the woods in tights.

Mitchell had not exactly been in the mood to check what film had been picked for the day. As a result, this was the only place to find him today, far away from the theater.

Kate wasn't too impressed the new year, either. She looked it too, when she showed up, clutching a takeaway cup of coffee in her hand, the dark under her eyes showing off her lack of sleep.

"Happy new year, hmh?" she drawled, tired, as she made her entrance.

"Kate," Mitchell snapped, half-relief and half-badly-repressed anger. "What happened?"

Kate drew in a deep breath, then let it out as a sort of heavy, helpless sigh. "He showed up." Then, with a joyless laugh, she added, "Just like he said he would."

"The same old shit, I take it," Mitchell said. He put an odd little emphasis on the word shit.

Someone was having some trouble managing their vampire side today.

"Pretty much," she replied with a little shrug. "A little less beating me up, a little more promises of emotional torture and --"

Yeah, she didn't want to finish that thought, so she just shook her head.

He watched her. "Where did you see him?"

"In town, around ~~some handwavy street or other~~." There was another one of those little shrugs. It seemed to be the only thing she could do about anything, lately. "He was lurking. Such a cliche."

"Yeah," Mitchell murmured. "His kind loves that." Nevermind that he'd been cooperating with vampires working out of a bloody funeral parlour recently... "Look, are you all right?"

He'd sort of remembered about that part. Somewhere in between the brooding violence.

Kate allowed herself a second or two of looking just a little devastated, then went back to just being tired.

"He'd kill Bod just to get to me." So, y'know. Not great. "Other people too, probably."

Something distant crossed Mitchell's expression.

"I'll take care of it," he said. Evenly.

Kate felt... something. Relieved, at first, then guilty for feeling relieved, then just a little creeped out though she wouldn't admit it.

She said nothing, just clutched her coffee a little tighter and brought it to her lips.

Jack had a few minutes to spare before his portal, and he decided to spend them checking in with Mitchell.

Not that he had anything useful to say about what had happened to Kate, but it seemed poor form not to at least stop in for a hello. It only took a few moments of exploring the theater before he found the office.

"Happy New Year," he said. "Anything interesting happening?"

The last bit was at least partially sarcasm.

It certainly sounded like it. Mitchell glanced up. "Depends on who you've been talking to."

"Kate gave me an earful yesterday," Jack said. "... and Emma's still dealing with some things of her own, but I think almost being killed by your best friend wins. I'm happy to see the back of the year for their sake."

"Well, apparently the rotten egg's still about," Mitchell said, darkly, and tossed his phone on the desk.

"Lovely. A stalker. I'm sure that's what she needs." Jack closed his eyes for a moment. "Are you going to take care of him?"

Preferably in a very painful, very final way. Jack was not much for mercy at times.

"As soon as she tells me where he's hiding," Mitchell said, flatly. "I'm planning to make sure he doesn't come back, either."

Neither was Mitchell, given the proper incentive.

"Good," Jack said firmly. "I'd do the same if I could."

He was frowning a bit, though. "Is she out looking for him?"

"No, but her texts are about as informative as a kick to the head," Mitchell snorted. "I'm hoping she'll be 'round and tell me what the hell's going on before long."

Jack frowned and fumbled for his phone. "It wouldn't do any good if I delayed my portal home..."

He almost hoped to be told it would, but had no realistic expectations in that direction.

"It's a classic fledgling too big for his britches happening here, Jack," he said, shooting the boy a wary look. "Best not try it unless you want to deal with another Lauren."

Edited 2011-01-01 20:39 (UTC)

"I was fine with Lauren," Jack pointed out. "Though I don't think flirting to confuse him until someone else showed up would do much for Hannibal."

Silly straight boys.

Still, he looked almost grateful as he pocketed the phone again. "It wouldn't do anyone any good if I ended up -- hurt. Will you let me know what happens?"

He sighed. "Sure," Mitchell said, "I'll phone you when it's dealt with."

He looked faintly disgusted about the whole thing, in a very distant manner.

"Thank you," Jack said, only a bit pointedly. "Are you going to be all right?"

In the long view, he meant. He assumed it wouldn't roll right off Mitchell in the moment.

"I'm not the one coping with some psycho stalker who makes Seth look well-adjusted."

... Okay, so maybe that was a little uncharitable. And he was a little in territorial mode at the moment.

"I already know Kate isn't going to be all right for a long time," Jack said wearily. "It'd be stupid to assume otherwise. But it's nice to see you cheerful about it."

"Yeah, well, it's not exactly a cheerful time of the year." 'Deadly furniture'. Yeah, whatever, George. Thanks.

"Not this year, anyhow," Jack had to admit. "And now we have twelve blank months to explore. Hopefully they won't get quite so fucked up."

"I think we're probably already past that," Mitchell said, and... sighed. "You remember in the cellar, when Nina rushed George...?"

Jack winced a bit. It was hard to forget. "Of course," he said. "Kate and I tried to get her to stay back but she -- I don't think she heard anything."

"After she did that, I... thought she might have--" he started, then stopped. Thought about it for a second, staring down at his shoes. "I hoped it was just George I was smelling on her, after."

Edited 2011-01-02 13:00 (UTC)

"Jesus," Jack said, rubbing his forehead. He was able to complete the sentence, and Mitchell wouldn't have told him if it had been a false alarm. "How? I didn't think he even got a finger on her."

Not that he'd had the best vantage point, really. Or that he'd checked all that closely. He'd had a few other things on his mind.

"I think he scratched her while he was changing," Mitchell muttered, glancing back up. "I didn't know for sure until the full moon last month. George still doesn't know."

Edited 2011-01-02 13:12 (UTC)

That was a lot to take in, and Jack blinked thoughtfully for a moment as he tried to.

"Poor Nina. I can't imagine it'll stay a secret for long," he exhaled, finally. "Are they still together?"

Lord knew if he were Nina, he might take off without a word just to try to outrun it. No: If he were Nina he'd have a very long, very loud conversation with George the second he woke up from having been like that.

Yeah, well. Fuck knew what Nina was going to do. Mitchell was still dealing with the self-loathing he had left over from the last time he tried to talk to her, the last time he tried to make things easier.

"Yeah," he said, "Though George is being a right cunt about it all."

"Well, that makes everything so much better," Jack said, a bit sour. Intellectually, he could guess at some of the reasons -- having killed Herrick couldn't have been easy on George -- but still. He didn't need to take it out on Nina.

Mitchell just snorted. He'd had that conversation with George about fifty times by now. "And she doesn't want my help," he added. "So God knows."

There may have been more than one factor playing in this 'go beat up someone for Kate' business, yes.

"I almost feel like you should let the two of them work it out," Jack said, since he was at a loss for anything else. "But I'm not exactly the relationship expert these days."

"Oh, trust me. I'm not going anywhere near that anymore," he said, holding up his hands. "Last time I tried, George accused me of being deadly furniture."

Jack's face crinkled. "I can't even work out what that's meant to mean."

Ugh, why must the holidays be over?

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Mystery Sign Theatre, Saturday

Lobby/Concessions

MOVIE: Lads in Leggings

Manager's Office

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OOC