[ She will be the strength he needs, as she is with everyone she cares for. She will be his guardian angel, watch after him, take care of him. And if right now, he needs a moment, she'll go and make him some tea, loathe as she is to leave him alone, to be alone. ]
Alright. [ She nods a little too, pressing a kiss to his forehead before she moves to stand.] I'll be downstairs whenever you're ready. [ And with a tentative smile, she rent-a-ghosts downstairs, blipping out of the room and into the kitchen to start on the tea.]
[As soon as Annie is out of the room, Mitchell allows himself to tumble over sideways, to fall flat on the floor and hide his face in the sheets that are rumpled around him. It's very tempting to wallow in his despair, to recriminate himself even more, but Annie is waiting for him downstairs, and so after a moment or so, he forces himself to get up again and to get dressed.
Mitchell is a man who will do many things, but he won't make Annie wait for him.
He's fully-dressed, down to shoes and socks, his ubiquitous gloves back on his hands by the time he slinks into the kitchen, looking somewhat like a chastened dog and trying to hide it nonetheless.] Was that the kettle, then?
[ Annie finds it difficult not to go back to him, not to fuss over him, to let him be. It's not in her nature. And the longer he stays up there, the longer she waits, the more she frets. She puts on the kettle and gets out four different cups with four different sorts of tea, unsure of what will suit his mood even if he's the sort to drink the same kind of tea for everything (and by now she knows exactly how he likes his tea)... she needs to do this, do something.
As the kettle heats, she braces herself against the counter, head hanging as she blinks away tears. By the time he comes down, the kettle is singing and she's managed to battle off those tears successfully. She turns to look at him with a smile.] Yes. I didn't know which tea you'd like so... I prepared them all. [ She reaches for the kettle but her hand goes right through it.
Letting out a breath, she tries again, but it's the third time that's the charm. She gives him a sheepish look before pouring out the hot water so the teas can steep.] Apparently, I'm a wee bit distracted.
[Mitchell is the type to drink the same tea, day in and day out. Just regular PG Tips with a splash of milk and maybe half a teaspoon of sugar if he's having a really bad day. He likes the familiarity of it all; it hasn't changed since he was a boy, growing up a hundred years ago. Everything else in the world changes, but not tea.
Of course, he's willing to drink whatever Annie puts in front of him, weird herbal mixtures and the like, because it's Annie who makes it for him.]
Why don't we just start with the one, hm? [He comes up behind her and settles his hands on her hips, tentative for a moment before he slides his arms fully around her and tucks his chin over her shoulder, hugging her gently and pressing his lips to her sweater.]
[ In one of the cups, of course, is the tea he prefers, ready to steep as she pours out each mug. Her eyes stay fixed on her task for a moment before she feels his arms wrap around her, pulling her into his embrace. It's something she doesn't expect nor did she think he would ever give to her again (it's an overly dramatic thought but... it's Annie).
She lets out a soft, contented sigh at the feeling, her eyes closing for a moment as she sets the kettle back on the stove.] So am I. [ For pushing him, for making him feel like he had to do something that he couldn't, just to make her happy, to make her feel normal when that was the last thing they'd ever be.]
[It is overly dramatic, and the only reason it might have possibly come true was because Mitchell was convinced he wasn't allowed, not because he wouldn't want to.
He gets a little more comfortable against her, nuzzling a little at her shoulder and tucking his face in there once he's managed to dislodge the edge of her soft sweater, her hair tickling his face as he closes his eyes and just stands there hugging her.]
What a pair we make. It's a wonder George and Nina put up with us at all. [In fact, he's a little surprised he hasn't managed to incur Nina's wrath lately. She must be at the hospital or something.]
I suppose we're lucky they're not about. [ She isn't really sure where they are, more than likely out, away from the house for some time alone, which in turn, gave the two of them time alone. Her eyes close for a moment before she reaches for the milk to add a splash to the mug of tea she knows he'll pick.]
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Alright. [ She nods a little too, pressing a kiss to his forehead before she moves to stand.] I'll be downstairs whenever you're ready. [ And with a tentative smile, she rent-a-ghosts downstairs, blipping out of the room and into the kitchen to start on the tea.]
no subject
Mitchell is a man who will do many things, but he won't make Annie wait for him.
He's fully-dressed, down to shoes and socks, his ubiquitous gloves back on his hands by the time he slinks into the kitchen, looking somewhat like a chastened dog and trying to hide it nonetheless.] Was that the kettle, then?
no subject
As the kettle heats, she braces herself against the counter, head hanging as she blinks away tears. By the time he comes down, the kettle is singing and she's managed to battle off those tears successfully. She turns to look at him with a smile.] Yes. I didn't know which tea you'd like so... I prepared them all. [ She reaches for the kettle but her hand goes right through it.
Letting out a breath, she tries again, but it's the third time that's the charm. She gives him a sheepish look before pouring out the hot water so the teas can steep.] Apparently, I'm a wee bit distracted.
no subject
Of course, he's willing to drink whatever Annie puts in front of him, weird herbal mixtures and the like, because it's Annie who makes it for him.]
Why don't we just start with the one, hm? [He comes up behind her and settles his hands on her hips, tentative for a moment before he slides his arms fully around her and tucks his chin over her shoulder, hugging her gently and pressing his lips to her sweater.]
I'm sorry.
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She lets out a soft, contented sigh at the feeling, her eyes closing for a moment as she sets the kettle back on the stove.] So am I. [ For pushing him, for making him feel like he had to do something that he couldn't, just to make her happy, to make her feel normal when that was the last thing they'd ever be.]
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He gets a little more comfortable against her, nuzzling a little at her shoulder and tucking his face in there once he's managed to dislodge the edge of her soft sweater, her hair tickling his face as he closes his eyes and just stands there hugging her.]
What a pair we make. It's a wonder George and Nina put up with us at all. [In fact, he's a little surprised he hasn't managed to incur Nina's wrath lately. She must be at the hospital or something.]
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Sugar?