Guest Reviews:
Crossover Junkie: One of those ideas are spot on. Not saying which.
Please R&R
Pitch heard some shuffling from the doorway. He looked up and saw Anya stretching and yawning still half asleep. He was confused until he looked out of the window and saw the sun coming up.
"Good morning, Pitch." She yawned, making her way to the kitchenette.
"Same to you." He replied shortly. He got up and went to the kitchenette, standing by the countertop. He watched as she expertly threw ingredients into a bowl and turned them into a mixture. She pulled out a frying pan and dumped a bit of the mixture in. When one side was cooked, she grabbed a plate with one hand and flipped the half cooked mixture over. She tossed it again and it landed in the plate, which she set in front of Pitch.
He looked at it confused. When he looked to Anya for an explanation, she laughed at his blank expression.
"It's a pancake! You're meant to eat it!"
"You seem to have forgotten that I haven't eaten in centuries." He stated, pushing the plate away, despite the delicious aroma that wafted from it.
"Well, now's a good time to start again." Anya smiled, pushing the plate back towards him.
Pitch crossed his arms and slightly pouted. "No." He mumbled, turning away.
"It's a pancake. Not poison."
"Now you've put that idea in my mind, I'm definitely not eating it."
"Alright."
Pitch silently cheered, thinking he won. He turned around, ready to say something, and, without warning, a piece of pancake was pushed into his mouth. He choked slightly and was about to spit it out when he saw Anya standing there, hands on her hips. Suddenly, he thought it may be within his best interests to eat it. He chewed it slowly, noticing bursts of sweetness on his tongue. He swallowed it and saw Anya was facing the cooker, busy making another pancake. He broke off another piece and quickly put it in his mouth. Then he got another. And another. And another.
Quite soon, the whole plate was empty and Anya looked at Pitch, highly amused. "Thought you said you didn't want to eat." She stated, a victorious smirk on her face.
Pitch ignored the fact that he was most likely turning purple and replied, "I only ate it because I knew you would continue to feed me."
"Suurrrre! If ya say so." The green eyed girl jumped onto the countertop, happily eating her own breakfast. "So," she began, nonchalantly. "Where do you plan on going?"
Pitch stiffened, but it wasn't noticeable.
'How can I stick with her without it sounding so strange!? I need to stay with her so I can put my plan into action!'
"Uhhh, Pitch? You still in there?"
The Nightmare King snapped out of his thoughts and saw Anya looking at him expectantly, waiting for an answer.
"I have no plans as of now." He did have a plan, just not for where he was going now. Though, judging her by her previous invitation, he could find that quickly changing.
He wasn't disappointed when she asked, "Well, why don't you come with me?"
He couldn't jump at the offer. It would be too obvious. She was a smart woman. He had to make his performance believable. "I can't do that! I have imposed on you already."
"Imposing? Of course not. Besides, it gets a bit lonely. I could use the company."
He pretended to give it some serious thought, unbeknownst to Anya. "If you're sure that I won't get in the way..."
"You won't be." She finished her breakfast and went to get changed. She came back in jeans and a black sweater. She pulled on her coat, scarf, gloves but decided to forgo the hat in favour of putting up her hood. She put on some knee high boots, all the while, Pitch watching.
"Where are you going?" He asked.
"We are going to get some snacks for when we leave as well as some food for the next 2 days."
"I told you, I don't eat."
"Oh yeah!" Drawled Anya sarcastically, trying to find where she carelessly put her keys last night. "Because it was not you who ate that pancake. Sorry, I forgot."
Pitch scowled. "You are a brat."
"So I've been told. Ah ha! Found 'em! Let's go." They left the apartment and headed off for the shops. Pitch felt a bit odd, walking through society like a normal person, despite no one (except Anya) could see him. Speaking of Anya, he couldn't figure her out.
Being the Nightmare King, he could easily figure out people's fear and work out what they were like. When he first met Jack Frost, it was too easy. The boy was mischievous, but insecure at the same time. He had so many fears to play with and knew how to make things intresting. Even for Pitch.
But Anya?
At first, Pitch thought she was a bit insecure, with how suddenly she reacted when she first saw him. But then he changed that judgement when she invited him to her home. She seemed a bit courageous, a bit bold, despite being so nervous. Then after breakfast, he changed his mind and thought her to be witty, sarcastic, and intelligent. Time and time again, he though he had her figured out, and time and time again, she confused him even more. She was like a mystery, a challenge.
"Um, Pitch?" She said quietly, so as not to drag notice to herself. To everyone else it would seem she was talking to herself. As if she didn't already have problems.
"Yes?" He replied, for some reason keeping his voice low as well.
"What do you want to eat, later on?"
He was going to say nothing because he didn't eat, but then thinking about it, he decided against it. Anya would most likely find a way to con him into eating like she had this morning. "I don't know." He said, instead. "I haven't been paying attention to human cuisine in the past few centuries. I was never planning to eat so I never saw the point."
As the dark haired female took that into consideration, Pitch looked around, looking at the things he never bothered noticing before. Humans were so technologically advanced. They had sensors that could sense if someone was taking out an unpaid item. They had cameras watching their every move.
"And I thought humans were bumbling idiots." He mumbled to himself.
"It's a bit different from another perspective, is it not?" Whispered Anya, gesturing for Pitch to follow, discreetly.
They walked up to the counter and Anya was greeted by the man behind it.
"Ahh! Miss Shippermier! Are we preparing to leave?" He asked, scanning the items.
"Yeah. I leave in two days. This Sunday. How's your family?"
"As wonderful as always." The elder man's voice lowered at the following question. "How's this Winter?"
Anya grimaced. "Brutal. If I'm outside, I keep looking around like someone is after me." Then she thought about when she met Pitch yesterday. "But since yesterday, it's been bearable."
"Well, that's $47.25."
Anya gave him the exact amount and he put it in the cash register. He grabbed a Hershey's chocolate bar and the receipt. "And here's your receipt and change."
Anya shook her head. "I can't take it." She weakly protested. By the little amount of force in her voice, Pitch could tell this wasn't the first time this had happened.
"I insist." He said and shoved both the chocolate and the receipt into her hands. "Have a nice day, Miss Shippermier."
The green eyed girl shook her head and waved good. "Thank you, Mr. Elmsberry. See you 'round Easter."
Spirit and human left the shop. "What was that all about?" Inquired Pitch, once they were outside
"I've been going to the same shop since I was a kid." Explained Anya, crossing the road. "I didn't have the best of childhoods and Mr. Elmsberry would give me a chocolate bar in an attempt to make me feel better. It's kinda become a habit for him, and he just won't take no for an answer. He was the one who comforted me when...when Mom passed away." She fell into a slight depressed silence.
Pitch grinned internally. He decided to delve for more information on her. But he had to do it carefully. He didn't want her to shut down. "What about your father?"
"Long story short, he's the reason I went to Mr. Elmsberry as a kid." She said, an unhidden malice in her voice. Piecing the info together, Pitch realised her father abused her as a child. This kind of knowledge would be very useful in using her against the Guardians.
They walked back to the apartment, Anya too caught up in memories to let her pagophobia get to her. She silently put everything away except for a few things. Pitch watched, half paying attention, half scheming. His planning came to a halt as he realised he missed some vital details.
"When you say the countryside, where exactly do you mean?" He asked, his British accent thick with curiosity.
She put most of her attention to the pots in front of her and answered him absentmindedly. "It's near a place called Burgess."
Pitch's lips twitch upwards.
Anya put the lids on the pots, and turned to look at Pitch, who had to quickly contain his smirk.
"You know, when I was younger, I started to right stories about you. I stopped but then I wrote another one this Easter."
The gears in Pitch's plotting mind froze. "You wrote stories...about me?"
The human woman became bashful, almost regretful, about telling him. "Uhh, yeah? I wanted to ask if you could...I dunno...read one?"
Pitch was ready to refuse, but quickly remembered he needed to earn her trust. "If you bring it to me, only then can I read it."