Oxford Street Tube Station, London, Wednesday Afternoon

[bitten_notshy]

It was considerate of Portalocity to put the main port to and from London in a dimly lit alcove of a crowded underground station; no one was looking at anyone else, and, even if they were, there'd probably been stranger things to remark upon that morning than two (to all appearances) young men stepping out of a glowing blue doorway to nowhere. Certainly Jack was not going to break his stride to remark on how unusual it was.

He did, though, pause when they were out of the station. "Guidebook first, I think," he ventured. "Seeing as it's been some time since I was here."

[OOC: For Mitchell, unless someone else is in London today.]

Comments

[bitten_notshy]

"I suppose I like messes," Jack said, not sounding especially bothered either way. "They tend to be busier, for one."

He turned his head. "Are you beeping?"

[chosehumanity]

"That's just George," Mitchell said, waving it off. "Fandom hasn't been giving him enough to worry about personally." He glanced across the street, shoving his sunglasses firmly back onto his face, and nodded at the crossing. "That would be our street."

[bitten_notshy]

"Fandom's been quiet for once," Jack pointed out lightly. "So he didn't go learn to carve his own canoe, or whatever they're doing in the Catskills?"

He obediently turned, though. "And I think this would be a bookstore. Good eye."

[chosehumanity]

"That should get you some guidebooks." Mitchell was perhaps slightly pleased with himself for remembering, but that much was allowed. "Please. George had an acute coronary when he heard I was stealing out for a few days," he continued, starting in that direction, "I'm not sure the Catskills would help with his issues."

[bitten_notshy]

"There's a whole shelf of travel books," Jack said, pulling a few out and hesitating only slightly before adding one on Bristol to the mix.

"He did?" George was worse than Jack was, then. "How did you convince him you could both manage?"

[chosehumanity]

Mitchell shot him a glance from the corner of his eyes. "It's George," he said, "You just wait out the flailing and tell him to go piddle out on the lawn."

... They had their own kind of shorthand. "So what's next on our list?" he asked, "Find a place to stay overnight, see how the town's been doing..."

[bitten_notshy]

Jack decided the George comment stood on its own, really.

"Hotel first," he said. "Then we go back out and try to find the right kind of club."

And that was where he was going to hope he remembered things. Vampires changed less often than booksellers did.

[chosehumanity]

"Now that will be fun," Mitchell replied, with the driest intonation available to him. He nodded towards the counter. "There's one nearby that shouldn't cost too much," he said, "At least if my memory hasn't given out."

[bitten_notshy]

"It could have been worse," Jack said. "I could have suggested bowling."

A pause as he dealt with the fiddly business of paying and taking his bags. "And thank you."

[chosehumanity]

"Not fond of the sport?" he prompted, nodding at the girl behind the counter (and finding himself incapable of not flashing her at least the light, gentle edge of a flirtatious smile even as he bustled on by). "No problem," he added.

He'd honestly missed England himself.

[bitten_notshy]

"It's not a sport, is it?" Jack asked rhetorically. "There's no actual exertion involved."

He scanned the street ahead of him. "What's the number we're looking for?"

[chosehumanity]

"Should be a sign at the end of the street."

Mitchell... manfully ignored the beeping that signalled the fourth text message in his pocket, and took a drag off his cigarette instead. "I'm not sure what I know of vampire hangouts out here hods for this place."

[bitten_notshy]

"It wouldn't. Different worlds entirely." Jack rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to think of a good name for them to drop, before deciding it was pointless. A name a hundred years out of date would be worse than no name at all.

"I know where the place should be," he said. "Just -- don't say too much, and don't eat anything while we're there. They don't. I doubt anyone would remember me." He eyed Mitchell, a little wary for the first time. "Are you still -- abstaining?"

[chosehumanity]

Mitchell shot him a sardonic look in return. "I've spent the past five months teaching high school," he said, "Doesn't leave a lick of time for killing people."

Hence also the trail of cigarettes he was bound to leave in his wake. "It's called Mermaid... Something or other. Hotel? Suites."

[bitten_notshy]

"Right, I wouldn't be here if I thought you were doing that," Jack pointed out, managing to combine a mild tone with a look that implied Mitchell was among the stupider men on earth. "Separate things, here, but never mind that."

He glanced across the street. "Mermaid Inn? It looks" -- disheveled -- "quaint."

[chosehumanity]

And some of them had massive impulse control problems, but... "Yeah. Never mind that," he said, following his look. "Quaint is all you'll get for a hundred pounds a night out here, unless you'd rather upgrade to the Radisson."

[bitten_notshy]

"I can manage quaint." Jack had plenty of money, but the Mermaid was here and he was not so put off by the exterior to want to drag his stuff somewhere else. "Let's just check in and make the best of it."

[chosehumanity]

"Sounds like a plan," Mitchell agreed, crossing the street onto the curb in front of the hotel. "And you can fill me in about the locals."

Not of the human variety, obviously.