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wunderkind

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From:

humanistic

[Defensively, he straightens up from his slouch a bit.]

Because you're going on about how annoyed you are, with her talking, and her interrupting--and you're always whispering in my ear about how she's leavin' out the mugs, and the biscuits--and you know she can't really wash the floors or anything, so don't suggest it anymore-- [Never mind those suggestions are probably more directed at Mitchell--]

And, look, her-- her anniversary is comin' up. That's why. Not the wedding. The-- other one.

From:

nebbish

What, of dating - [He asks that a moment before it sinks in, and he says - ] Oh, no, n - no, right. Right. Understood. That's...well. Right.

[He hesitates a moment, then says, thoughtfully - ]

But that also means...it's close to the anniversary of us moving in, isn't it.

From:

humanistic

[He raises his eyebrow slightly. That follow-up question isn't the point, what is he getting at--besides selfishness--]

Ye-ah. And?

From:

nebbish

Well - what if - we have a big party.

[He makes a little face, because big parties are bollocks; good parties are three, four people, sitting around, chatting, eating something he cooked, and then watching an old movie after. That's a good party.]

Tea on every surface. Not a biscuit un-pre-soaked from her obsessive dunking. We can invite some of the other ghosts from around. If there...there are other ghosts around. It can be...Us Day. Ask her to plan it, too. Keep her mind off other things.

[He wrinkles his nose a little. It sounds a little bit...weak, now that he's put it out there.]

From:

humanistic

[He blinks a few times, surprised that George has even suggested this.]

A party.

[A party. George is suggesting a party, which, all right, while his plans are sort of weirdly adorable and thoughtful, it's also a stretch for George, who doesn't really like guests, or dirt on the carpets (which really this won't be a problem, right, if they're ghosts), or biscuits not on plates--

Slowly, he begins to grin.]

Do you actually mean that.

From:

nebbish

Stop...grinning at me, you're going to make me regret it.

[He gives a bit of a sigh, and grumbles on:]

Anyway, I don't much care for sharing our space, but I like Annie being...unhappy even less. So - [A windy sigh - ] Yes! Let's have an...Annie-party.

From:

humanistic

I'm not grinnin' at you, this is just my face--

[He is definitely grinning at George.]

All right. Yeah. An Annie-party-y-- hey! [He sits up, inspired.] It should be a surprise!

From:

nebbish

Mitchell, were you not listening -

[He is definitely frowning at Mitchell.]

The point is to give her something to plan and think about so that she's not brooding over...the other thing. We are not going to sacrifice that very important part of this plan for your - bizarre fetish for surprises.

From:

humanistic

I haven't got a bizarre fetish--it's a very normal thing, planning surprises for people, especially surprise parties--the only bizarre thing is being anti-surprise-- ah, George, come on, it'd be brilliant! She'd have no idea it was coming, we could-- rearrange all the furniture and hide behind it--

[He sits forward, ready to draw George into this planning--so, no, either he wasn't listening to the bit about Annie planning the party or, more likely, he's excited about this and is not going to let Annie have all the fun of planning the party when they could do it themselves.]

If I got her out of the house for an afternoon, could you do a cake? I s'ppose she won't be eating it, so it's just got to look good-- you can manage that, yeah? Or we could just get one from a shop--

From:

nebbish

We are not getting a cake from a shop!

[George's voice rises perhaps just a touch in pitch - but the thought, the mere thought, is an outrage. A cake from a shop. A cake from a shop is fine if you're...No, a cake from a shop is never fine. Ever.]

They look terrible and they taste worse. And even if she's not going to be eating it, we are, so there's no point in it being shit. I'll make something...lemony, something like that, really strong taste. Maybe she can do the...thing.

[And even though he's not so keen on the surprises, or this party (his idea to begin with), he is keen on the possibility of testing out that new recipe for lemon curd - right, use that between each of the layers of the cake in place of icing - candied lemons on top? - might do it up like a cup of tea...no, she'd just go on about that - ]

Right, anyway - Nina would be coming too, so she'd be having it as well. Who else?

From:

humanistic

[He listens to that protest and the subsequent reasoning that follows, solemn and interested, with a few choice nods here and there--yeah, yeah, what George is saying makes sense, yeah, good cake--and there is maybe only the hint of a smile on his face. If you want George to do some cooking and/or baking, you only need to suggest take away or cakes from a shop or I'll bet no one could recreate that meal, and then he gets offended and indignant and determined and the next thing you know, there are steaks and shepherd's pies and tarts cooling on the windowsill. Which, even if you don't have to eat, is not really a bad situation.]

The thing. You know, it's a wonder you don't go into public speaking, marvelously articulate as you are-- [But he points at George, triumphant and pleased, and offers a congratulations (of a sort):] But lemon. Yes. Good idea. And we'll need some food as well, think you can take on that--and beer--

Er, and guests--so, there's me and you and Annie, obviously. Nina, for you. Er... not Gilbert, obviously, he's gone on, and he would have brought the party down anyways, his weird music-- oh, there's a ghost down the street! Hangs around the alley behind that Indian place. Have you seen her yet, she's blonde, wears this pink jumper--

From:

nebbish

Oh, yeah, yeah, with the, uh -

[He holds his hands up in front of his chest to demonstrate the enormous distinguishing features that can be found there. And then he remembers, right, he is dating, and he is being the best boyfriend to his girlfriend, absolute number one boyfriend, which means being right in deed and thought even when just talking to your mate, and that means he panics and jabs his hands about six inches upwards to point at his throat with both fingers and provides another better distinguishing feature - ]

Necklace. The...the...necklace.

[Good save, George.]

But do you think Annie will like her? She gets weird sometimes, about women with, you know. Necklaces. A little jealous, I think.

From:

humanistic

[But Mitchell is really only staring right now. He'd started to nod at the initial gesture because, yes, distinguishing features... and then that nod sort of slowed as George's hands moved up because no, that is not how those work, and then now there's--]

Necklace. The necklace. Of all the words t' come up with, you go for necklace.

From:

nebbish

Well, I'm not going to talk about her tits, am I, Mitchell. First, it's inappropriate to objectify a perfectly nice woman like that -

[That's the prim voice of someone who once thought about auditing a women's studies course at university - ]

And second, I am a man committed to my very serious girlfriend, so I don't even notice that sort of thing any longer, all right?

From:

humanistic

[He keeps up his sceptical I-don't-really-believe-you look for a few beats.]

No. Yeah. 'Course you don't. You, Nina, serious. Right.

[Another beat. Conversationally:] So do you really think Annie would get jealous of pink-sweater-ghost-who-has-fantastic-tits-that-you-are-not-noticing? Because that's the only other local and more or less friendly ghost I can think of, all tits-you-are-not-noticing aside. But if the tits-you-are-not-noticing are going to come between Annie and her happiness--or you and your serious girlfriend--then perhaps we'd better not invite them to the party after all.

Or the ghost herself.

From:

nebbish

Mitchell!

[He gasps that, perfectly well stung.]

This is not about me! This is about Annie! I mean, you've seen how she gets. She was weird about that girl Kirsty, Hugh's girlfriend, and that Janey Harris - always talking about...

[Wait. Waaait. Something just occurs to him, and he turns to Mitchell, speaking slowly like he's deducing and then delivering some great revelation.]

You know what, Mitchell, I think it's not actually about the other girls' appearances at all. I think she gets like that because she's jealous of them dating the men she likes. [He widens his eyes a little bit, a can-you-believe-what-I've-just-figured-out expression.] And that's why she's fine around Nina!

From:

humanistic

[And once again, Mitchell is left staring at George. Just-- staring. Slowly, faintly, he shakes his head.]

Nothing gets by you, does it. You are just too clever for the world, there's a problem, and you look at it, and you just-- work it out, just like that. Seriously. You're secretly a spy, right, just crackin' codes, solvin' the mysteries of the female mind--

From:

nebbish

[And George gets that Smug Georgey Grin on his face and nods in an amazingly self-satisfied kind of way.]

Yeah...Yeah. Pretty good, isn't it.

From:

humanistic

[Mitchell lets him linger there, in satisfied smugness--but not for too long. Just a few seconds.

And then he heaves himself to his feet, and leans across the space between them to flick George's forehead.]

From:

nebbish

Owww-wowww-wowwww-wuh -

[He's being overdramatic, of course, but to have one's forehead flicked like that - in one's moment of semi-triumph - why, that's too great an indignity to bear!]

Mitchell, what was that for -

From:

humanistic

Are you completely idiotic, or are you just really good at pretending? Of course that's why, that's women, George, and that's also incredibly shallow of you t' observe it like that. You know it, but you don't say it.

Honestly, how you've gotten this far in your life without someone takin' it upon themselves to-- castrate you or something-- you'd better watch yourself with Nina, she'll do it--

[He sinks back onto the sofa with a sigh. George George George what will he do with you.]

Don't ever say that around Annie. Especially the bit about Janey Harris, she will go absolutely mental and spaz out and completely obliterate the house with that poltergeist thing she can do.

And we won't invite pink jumper tits ghost, so Annie won't be so-o-o jealous and heartbroken over you, and you won't get dumped by Nina for staring at any jiggly necklaces. All right?

From:

nebbish

Now, you -

[He sits up, mouth falling open in sheer outrage at all of that - implying that he might get dumped by Nina, first off, and saying castration like that, and the whole - all of it is just - ]

Look, mate, back off! Nina isn't going to dump me, first off, because I am not going to stare, and I don't ever, because I am devoted to her, understood. Second, I'm not a moron, and of course I'm not going to say that around her, and third I know she's not about to moon over me - Annie - because it's not like that between us, and fourth, I don't see what gives you the right to act like you're some - some - Betty Friedan, like you're the sensitive sort who just understands women just because you've -

[Right, no - even offended he's not going to end up where he could potentially end up if he wanted to do damage. It's just a party, that's all - nothing to get really worked up over.]

Slept with a lot of them.

From:

humanistic

[His eyebrows raise a little, his face tightens a little, as he waits to hear how that sentence will end, because, yeah, he knows the real ending of that. Though sensitive sorts don't usually tear out women's throats and drink them dry, do they, and he might say that, if he were capable of joking about it, and if something in his chest didn't wrench the very thought of where sleeping with a lot of women usually ends him.

And why are they even talking about this, this is a party that they're planning. A happy fun drunky cheerful thing, for Annie. Can't they have happy fun drunky cheerful things? Jesus, but being supernatural sucks. Pun not intended.

So, okay, Mitchell rubs a hand over his face, over his mouth, and takes a breath, and says, dryly:]

George, I don't care about the rest of that shit, all I want t' know is, who the hell is Betty Friedan.

From:

nebbish

[And even though there's some thread of George that wants to keep on with it, some little angry bit that wants to not let it out of his teeth, he's gotten better lately at ignoring that part of him. And Mitchell is de-escalating the whole thing, and George would be an ass indeed to ignore that, so instead of snapping and snarling he goes for a disapproving:]

Who's Betty Friedan? Honestly, Mitchell, I know you don't read books, but that's simply inexcusable - Betty Friedan. Author of The Feminine Mystique. Seminal work of feminism. You're not serious.

From:

humanistic

[This time, when Mitchell raises his eyebrows, it's more of a I-can't-believe-the-words-that-are-coming-out-of-your-mouth sort of expression.]

Why would I know-- look, The Feminine Mystique sounds like the name of some sort of lady's hygiene wash, I'd read those words and my brain would immediately shut down.

Not all of us are ladies, George.