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[wunderkind]

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2 lazy 2 musebox

[humanistic]

Hey. George.

[So Annie is off somewhere doing... ghost things? What exactly she's been up to these days, Mitchell isn't sure of. She's getting more independent, that's good to see--probably means her door will show up for her soon, which, well, that one he's not sure of how to feel on. Which is stupid, ghosts are meant to move on, and you're happy for them when they do. But in any case: Annie is off being her own woman (ghost), and George and Mitchell are at home. A real modern family structure, this. Except of course George and Mitchell aren't doing shit, save for sitting around the house reading a book and idly flipping through television channels in a vain quest for a decent programme.

The latter of those is Mitchell, but he shifts his gaze from the TV so he can speak to George--who is very focused on his book, but it won't take much to break his concentration.]

George. Who reads in the same room as the TV, anyways, you're already askin' t' be disturbed--

2 cool 2 musebox

[nebbish]

[He doesn't look up from the book - Turgenev, Fathers and Sons, and they're at Odintsova's for the first time and Bazarov has just forsaken his nihilism to declare his love for the woman, so that's not really something he's going to chuck aside for a repeat of EastEnders. And he and Annie are getting on a bit better nowadays, but a moment when she's out of the house and one need not worry about suddenly being loomed over with a cup of tea and a biscuit and chatter in one's ear is a rare moment indeed.

George responds with a sigh, enunciating each word precisely and pausing between each for emphasis:]

George Sands does.

[And then he turns to the next page.]

[humanistic]

[Oh God he's talking about himself in the third person. And he's not looked up from his book. Mitchell gives him a moment longer, just to see--]

George Sands does.

[George Sands asks to be disturbed, in other words. Without taking his eyes from George, he fumbles to his right, looking for-- ah, here it is, a very old biscuit, and he crumbles off a large crumb and--takes aim--and chucks it, right at George's face.]

[nebbish]

[In a perfect world, George would have looked up, used his book, hit that biscuit, and popped in right back to hit the middle of Mitchell's forehead.

In this world, George looks up in time for the biscuit to hit him in the cheek and fall onto his book.]

Mitchell!

[He stands up and shakes out his book.]

Crumbs, Mitchell! In my book! Look, they're stuck in the spine, look at that -

[And he shows him - crumbs. In the spine of his book. Horrible.]

[humanistic]

Books are sturdy, right, and-- ah, look, you're shakin' it, they're falling out-- all over the floor--

[He observes that second bit rather distantly, and immediately wishes that he hadn't, because now George is going to go and get out the hoover and--if he is feeling particularly vindictive, then he'll pass it over to Mitchell and force him to do it.

Quickly, Mitchell sits forward, leveling his gaze at George. Serious conversation time. No time for hoovering or complaining.]

Look, I wanted to ask you, about-- about Annie.

[nebbish]

[And Mitchell looks serious - quite serious. But there are crumbs in his book, is the issue, and while Annie is an interesting topic of conversation (which is bloody fortunate, considering how much Annie talks about Annie, and how much Mitchell does too) a more interesting topic is his book.]

No, the little bits get trapped down there - and it will look like I was eating while reading, with the book all grubby. I was going to lend this out to Nina, you know! [He half-whines her name.]

[humanistic]

[He lets George get through all of that, but he doesn't bother to change his incredulous expression. Because really. Really, and when George finally comes to his screechy little finish--]

Nina. Nina is not going t' want t' read that book.

[nebbish]

[George gets on his somewhat hurt face, the one where he's a little bit offended but not extremely offended but rather wants to make the other party (and the other party is exclusively Mitchell) feel a little bit bad.]

She will! [He nods, still fostering that impression of wounded righteousness.] She's asked me to share more of myself, my likes and dislikes and all of that, so I'm giving this to her. And don't say that book in that tone! This, Mitchell, is a timeless classic dealing with the strife amongst the generations, thank you very much.

[humanistic]

That is a brick of classic shit, George. It's Russian, first off-- [He starts to count off on his fingers, elucidating his points.] --which means it's going to be horribly depressing, and I'll just bet that there's some awful illness, right-- and look, just because you like it doesn't mean another member of modern human society will-- especially not Nina. Does she really look like the classic literature type t' you?

[No she does not, and he sits back, triumphant, his point made.]

Trust me. You don't want t' scare her off. Stick to sharing your-- your like of weird sci-fi films and beer and obsessive tidying.

[nebbish]

Wh - well, you - I think that yes, she could look like the classic literature type, and there's - there's only one awful illness, all right, and it doesn't come until the last twenty pages or so -

[But he's stammering, which means that Mitchell has the upper hand - not that he has it because George is stammering; no, George is stammering because he has it. But then, like a beacon of light shining down, he hits upon a keen retort - ]

And if you don't know whether or not there's a horrible illness, that means you've never read it, and you have told me more than once that it's better to give something a try than just say no without thinking about it!

[humanistic]

[He makes a dismissive noise, waving him off. It's a good point, which means you kill it before it has the chance to properly be a good point.]

Yeah, but that's for normal things, like drinking from jars and trying different kinds of wine and eating from street vendors. This is a book. And unlike you, George, I was alive when those sorts of books were being written. That book and I, we're nearly contemporaries, only I've evolved, and that book-- [That book, nearly disgusted--] --hasn't.

[nebbish]

All right, all right -

[He raises his voice to be heard over the end of Mitchell's second repetition of that book.]

First, this is a new translation, so that's a sort of evolution, so there's that theory gone, isn't that. Second, I just used the word timeless about one minute ago. [Third is the fact that the book predates Mitchell by seventy years or so, but that won't help his argument at all, and he still - even after all this time - feels a touch uncomfortable talking so matter-of-factly about his friend being something other than a human being, so he goes for another third instead - and realizes this third is a winning point.] And third, if we accept that argument, then I suppose the two of us should spend our afternoon rounding up all the copies of The Maltese Falcon we can find and melting them down, shouldn't we, seeing as it hasn't evolved either.

[humanistic]

[Oh, Mitchell has got arguments for all of those points. Every last one of those points, he could argue, and he's actually just in the process of sitting forward, one finger raised, ready to put the finest of barristers to shame, that's how well he's going to argue about that Russian brick of shit in George's hand, and then--]

Ohhh.

[He sinks back, stung by that, his mouth open a little.]

Oh, George, you don't-- that's different. That is not-- that is not even the same and you know it.

[nebbish]

Oh, no, no, this is what you've commanded, Mitchell, and we must stick to it. So that's Bogart burned, right, non-evolving as he is, right, and I guess the Marx Brothers have got to go - Chaplin - Casablanca, right, no more tipped chairs -

[And then George lifts two smug eyebrows and then gives his book a little shake.]

Or we can possibly spend a little more time thinking and decide that, classics: maybe we should give them a chance.

[humanistic]

[The list gets worse, and worse--or maybe it's the Marx Brothers, maybe that's the worst, and the rest sort of follow, like some hollow awful echo. He stares bleakly at George--and then makes a huge disgusted choking sigh, and shoves his hand over his eyes. The shake of that book is like a death rattle. The end of the argument.]

I think you've missed your calling. I take back everything I've ever said about you, mate-- you shouldn't be workin' in a school somewhere, they'd sack you for cruel and unusual punishment. You should be in the Inquisition.

[And more mournfully:] Why is it always the classics.

[nebbish]

[And George wears the most supremely smug expression for one moment, two, then - ]

Wha - I - I'd still be a good teacher! I'd be - [He tries to straighten his shoulders with a touch of dignity.] I'd be very good.

[humanistic]

'The classics: maybe we should give them a chance' is the worst course summary I've ever heard. Are you educating Nina, is that what you're doing with her? And here I thought it was more--

[Gestures, here, and he bites at his lip, so into this, this is sex, which George is--apparently--not having, given that he's handing out massive books--]

--animal sex. Or it ought t' be. Get in there, George! She's not lookin' for Heart of a Dog, eh, she's lookin' for--

[nebbish]

Don't!

[He nearly bellows that one, nearly throws his book to shut Mitchell up before he gets that one out - ]

...Say it, don't say anything more, all right, point taken, point well taken, quite enough, thank you.

[The embarrassment lasts a minute, but then is replaced with just a hint of self-satisfaction.]

Besides which, there's a bit of that going on. [And he continues, importantly:] I believe that one can have both a sexual and an intellectual connection. And Nina and I have both.

[humanistic]

[Instinctively, he raises his hands to catch the book, but George honors his code and does not chuck it.

And George is doing quite all right--sex, congratulations, yes, he grins, and he'd offer his congratulations except-- then-- George careens into Classic George territory, and he slumps back with a sigh.]

And you were doing so well. D'you talk like this to her, or do those lines actually work on her.

[nebbish]

They're not lines, Mitchell. They are an expression of my romantic and sexual philosophy.

[Still pompous as anything, though a moment later he adds:]

And yes, for some reason - and I know this is astonishing - I actually am better at wooing her than I am at wooing you.

[humanistic]

Well, thank God for that.

[He says it under his breath. Sort of. And, all right, yes, if pressed he would admit: he is happy for George, really, he is. George deserves happiness and as normal a life as he can manage, a girlfriend and as regular-or-animalistic sex life as he prefers to have.

He's still going to take the piss out of George, but let it be known that, beneath all of it, Mitchell is happy for his friend.]

You'll want to hang on to this one, George my lad. It's so rare t' find a girl that likes philosophies of romance and sex instead of the actual thing.

[And that bit of wisdom dispensed, Mitchell picks up whatever magazine is lying nearby and begins to read it. Or look at it, at least. Because he's won.]

[nebbish]

Well - Hey, put - put that magazine down, we are having a conversation -

[He points to the magazine and then points to the table and points to the magazine and points to the table. Turgenev lies beside him, forgotten.]

And a serious conversation, all right, because I want to clear up that she likes philosophies as well as the real thing - or she would, you know, if I expressed them to her - And there are girls who like an intellectual, all right, you just don't know because they talk to me instead of you -

[Making-love-on-the-regular George is also an arrogant George. That cannot be denied.]

[humanistic]

[Safely hidden behind the magazine, Mitchell does not see that stern pointing. Even if he had seen it, it wouldn't have worked on him, because he is not actually a disobedient puppy.

Instead, he answers George, still from behind the magazine (that he isn't actually reading, of course, but no need to give that one out), nearly talking over him for the last bit of that--]

And you're welcome to them! I am not interested--

[Not interested in intellectuals, but really, better not to be interested in anyone, right, because that always ends-- you know what, no, done with that thought, that's where that thought ends.]

--nor will I be interested. I just want t' clear this up: when you say Nina likes philosophies, and then you add on that bit about how she, y'know, would like your philosophies if you expressed them to her-- does that mean that you haven't, actually, expressed them to her.

[nebbish]

Well - no.

[Is that bad? Bloody hell, confessing it like that, it sounds sort of bad. Sort of...weak. Should he have been expressing philosophies? Did Mitchell whip out some philosophy or another before he...well.]

But I don't have to.

[He pulls himself up, adopting a lofty tone.]

Nina and I are in harmony. Intellectually, philosophically - [And loftiness gives way to a hint of smugness - ] And sexually.

[humanistic]

[As George goes on, Mitchell slowly lets the magazine drop, so he can just see him over the top of it, a little more with each item on that list. By the end, he's staring at George, dryly, and he lets the silence drag on a little.

A beat longer; then a breath.]

How long had it been. Between Nina and your last hook-up, I mean, how long of a time had it been?