bitten_notshy | A Pink Corner House, Bristol, Friday Evening

"Look, I don't see why you can't just tell me now," George complained.

Mitchell shot him a brief glance from near the window. "Because we all need to process," he said, and glanced back out into the night.

The one problem about calling in this particular acquaintance was that he'd had to wait until nightfall. Waiting made Mitchell antsy, which made George antsier, which meant the chances of someone being neurotic and flaily and generally annoying went up higher and higher and higher.

Mitchell checked his watch. "Their portal should've gotten here half an hour ago," he muttered. Even if he knew how unreliable Portalocity was, especially when it was least convenient.

Priest & de Ulloa	Jack, meanwhile, kept giving distinct sidelong glances to Sebastien as they trotted from the portal down the street to the corner house. "What?" Sebastien finally asked. "You're worrying. We can behave ourselves." Jack shrugged. "It's just odd to be summoned, is all." And there was never a happy ending when Mitchell summoned him. It tended to unsettle his stomach, though raw curiosity kept him from saying no. "He wanted me this time," Sebastien reminded him. "It's probably...." He couldn't come up with a satisfactory ending to what it was probably, but it hardly mattered. They were at the house. Sebastien touched the tips of his fangs with his tongue while Jack knocked.
Mitchell & Sands	The door opened up about thirty seconds later - mostly because George had just shrieked like a little girl at the sound of the knocking, and Mitchell had had to placate him. "Hey," said Mitchell, running his hand through his hair anxiously. "Thanks for coming. Come in." He stepped aside.
Sebastien	Sebastien went all manners. "Thank you for having us," he said, with the slightest trace of stiffness. "How have you been?"
Mitchell & George	"Good, right up until this happened," Mitchell said, subdued, and turned around to walk back towards the kitchen. "This is George, my flatmate," he added, almost as an afterthought. George gave Sebastien a quizzical little wave. He still looked jumpy.
Sebastien	"Hello," Sebastien said, with his own slightly quizzical look. It had been a long time since he smelled werewolf so strongly ... and the air wafting out from inside hinted at another one. Well. This would be an interesting visit. "I'm Sebastien," he added, for George's benefit. Jack was following toward the kitchen. "Is Annie about?"
Mitchell	"No, she's down at the pub." Mitchell yanked up a chair - he was not exactly the model of polite society, here - and sank down in it. "Working." The look on his face roughly showed how he felt about that, yeah.
George	George rubbed at his eyes under his glasses. "Yes, hi, nice to meet you, Sebastien," he said, "Nice to have you and your-- old-- er. Nice to have you here. Now can you please start talking about what the hell is going on here, Mitchell?"
Mitchell	Right. Down to business. "I was at hospital the other day, looking for you," he said, which wasn't strictly true, but he didn't want to jinx this thing with Lucy. "This dead body came in. Puncture wounds on the neck, all the blood drained... the thing is, I know him."
Jack	"I'm sorry for your loss," Jack hazarded. He'd been stuck on how Annie got a job, but this was more interesting. Then, when Sebastien gave him a look: "But I'd guess that's not the point of this story."
Mitchell	"No, it's not." There would be plenty of time to get into Annie and her job later. Trust us. Mitchell had opinions. "So one of the times I tried to stop drinking blood properly, I was living with this vampire, Carl, and he helped me." He rubbed his fingers together. "He's been clean for... I don't know, twenty years now--"
George	"--D'--d'you," George interrupted, frowning. Hard. "You lived with someone... before me?"
Mitchell	... What? Mitchell stared at him, trying to divine what the hell that had to do with anything. "... What?" Just. Seriously? "...Yeah, lots of people," he said. Back to the story--
George	"What?" George echoed, staring back at him, flailing a bit with one hand at the same time. "Who?"
Sebastien & Jack	George was acting like Jack at his most jealous. With a tilt of his head and a perplexed look, Sebastien asked Jack if the other two were together. Jack shook his head, No, and then rolled his eyes to indicate this was just George. Sebastien nodded slightly and opened his mouth to speak. "I wouldn't expect anyone to have been completely alone." Even if, from what he gathered, Mitchell was a fan of starvation, there was still that basic need for companionship.
Mitchell	"Of course I wasn't," Mitchell agreed, rubbing at his forehead as if he was developing a major headache. (He was.) "I lived with-- I don't know, vampires? People people?"
George	"People?" George squeaked, and pushed up out of his chair to go... fiddle with the fridge.
Mitchell & His Soulmate, Clearly	"Oh god," Mitchell groaned. He wanted desperately to hammer his face into the table. "You-- don't get all you about this. Of course I've lived with other people." He sagged back in his seat, facepalming. "You think I've spent the last hundred years waiting for you and your-- three different types of upholstery cleaner to show up?" The way George flung that butter at the table was very passive-aggressive.
Jack	"Can you let him get on with what he was saying?" Jack asked George, none too politely. He was aware he sounded just about as foolish sometimes; if he wasn't, the fact Sebastien was all but smirking would have reminded him. "Or does he need to explain that he had parents and, I don't know, pet hamsters, too?"
George	"I still think he should have told me--" George began.
Mitchell	"Anyway," Mitchell interrupted, as pointedly as he could manage it (which was very). "After me, he lived with this other guy--" A plate was dropped on the table next to him, but he was just going to ignore it. "...Dan, a human. And that's the body that came in."
Jack	"You think Carl went rogue." It wasn't a question, and it wasn't anything Jack could say if he so much glanced at Sebastien, so he didn't. Sebastien, for his part, could have been carved of stone.
Mitchell	Mitchell-- blinked, actually. "No, no," he said, his denial almost violent. "They were lovers. Carl adored him. But Carl's disappeared, and I-- need to know what's happened."
Sebastien	Sebastien suspected Jack's intuitive leap was the right one; he'd long since learned to look at the lover first. Which did not exactly make him feel secure about the courtesan arrangement, which was why he wasn't looking at Jack. Even if they weren't lovers anymore... And, too, there were other possibilities that bore consideration. "Someone might have been trying to get to Carl through those he cared for," he said slowly. "Or it might have been an accident -- a friend Dan trusted too much -- and Carl got frightened and ran. Did you want us to see if we can find him?"
Mitchell	Mitchell sagged with something that was very obvious relief. He was invested in this, whether he'd like to admit it or not, though the chances of him saying so unless directly prompted - or alone with George and Jack - were small. "If you can, yeah," he said. "I didn't want to drag you in, but I have no idea where to start, otherwise."
Jack	Jack leaned over to his bag and reached for a small notebook. He wasn't quite all business, but there was a purposeful crispness in his actions that helped to cover any messier emotions. "It should be easy enough," he said. "Especially if he stayed in Bristol. We can start with places he might be, where he worked ... do you know all of that?"
Mitchell	"I can get you to his house?" Mitchell offered, as helpful as he could be, given the circumstances. "I'm not sure Carl did all that much, work-wise. Last time I saw him he spent most of his time indoors, playing the piano." Though that might have been because he'd had Mitchell tied to a chair at the time.
Jack	"We can poke around the house," Jack said, since Sebastien seemed to be in one of his thoughtful places. "Look for receipts, chat up the neighbors. Even if we don't find anything, it's a place to start."
Mitchell	"Thank you," Mitchell replied. Thank God. He... really didn't want to believe Carl had did it. It just-- if Carl couldn't-- "C'mon. I'll show you."