Emancipated and Quite Capable

"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.

( Arriving: One portal. One vampire. Two detectives. )

[OOC: Preplayed with the wonderful chose_humanity. Follows this. More to come!]

Emma's portal was letting her out just a few blocks from the hotel she'd chosen, so it was easiest for Jack to just meet her in the bar there. He ordered a cognac, not really sipping much at all as he waited.

When Emma had informed him she was staying in a hotel and not with him, he'd been a bit hurt but too grateful she was coming at all to argue. Now, two long weeks later, he was happy he could be here where Sebastien wasn't. He needed rest and normalcy (or as much normalcy as one got with a psychic, anyhow) and that was outweighing his usual fierce desire for his vampire.

He felt more than a bit guilty about leaving the group in Bristol so abruptly; he'd have to make sure to call to check in. Still, there was something to be said for recovering almost alone.

[OOC: NFB. For Emma and for SP -- though I'm not averse to other phone calls.]

Jack had been in and out of Mitchell's hospital room all morning. It hadn't been doing the slightest bit of good from what he could tell, and had the unwanted side effect of making him feel like he was intruding on something between George and Mitchell. By late morning, he wandered off to get something to eat and send a few emails begging off on his schoolwork.

He thought about calling Emma. He knew he should call Emma, that he'd be blindingly furious if she didn't tell him were the situation reversed. But some tiny part of him was sick of dashing from crisis to crisis with her. It wasn't as if she could help, anyhow, he rationalized. He didn't think Mitchell even realized she knew he was a vampire. Calling her could wait.

So he put off that call, and made another one. He dreaded ruining someone's day this way, but Kate would have even more reason to be angry if she wasn't told than Emma would.

As the phone rang, he had a sudden fear that Kate would say what he had been telling himself: That he should have, somehow, done more. That he could have stopped this all if he'd been a little less stupid.

After his phone calls to Jack and Kate, George was practically scrambling to get down to the pub in time (although not scrambling enough that he couldn't pause, catch his breath, and opine on the stereotypical nature of said pub). He wasn't aware of anyone else doing the same. It was mainly terror driving him forward.

What if Mitchell bit someone? What if something was wrong? What if--

He was not necessarily watching where he was going as he wandered nervously onto the pavement.

( Meanwhile, a few blocks away... )

( Mitchell's walk just outside the pub was nervous... )

[OOC: NFB, NFI, OOC cherished. Preplayed with the stellar chose_humanity and vanillajello. Follows this.]

Jack had been dealing with the Mitchell situation through the immature but far easier means of ignoring it until something shoved it in his face again. It wasn't as if he had some kind of useful advice to give. Or if he trusted his temper to hold.

So: He wasn't thinking about any of that when his phone rang and he glanced up from his reading to answer it. He didn't recognize the number on the display.

"Hello?"

( That was a very firm 'Hi,' that greeted him. )

[OOC: Topic of phone call NFB. Preplayed with (and coded by) the splendid chose_humanity. Follows this, this and this.]