Sitting at the end of a long table in the warehouse, Cassandra sang to herself as she set out a pack of tarot cards. "I hear music and there's no one there, all night long I walk on air," she said, voice discordant.
Jerrie paced at the other end of the table, a Latin to English dictionary in his hands as another vamp poured carefully over a large manuscript, "Alright. Read it again."
"I'm not sure, it could be..." the bespeckled vampire paused before reading. "Deprimere ille bubula linter."
Jerrie thumbed through the dictionary, "Debase the beef canoe..." He growled, whacking the vampire upside the head with the dictionary, "Why does that strike me as not right?"
The vampire in question cringed back as Cassandra rose gracefully, swaying. "Jer, come dance," she offered, opening her arms.
He tensed, snapping, "Give us some peace, would you? Can't you see I'm working?"
She drew back at his outburst, making whining sounds like a kicked dog.
His eyes widened and he moved over to her, his tone turning gentle again, "I'm sorry, kitten. It's just - this manuscript is supposed to hold your cure, But it reads like gibberish-" She drew back slightly, still feeling wounded. "I'm frazzled is all. I never had the Latin. Even Dalton here, the big brain, even he can't make heads or tails of it -"
"I need to go change Miss Edith," she said, sounding rather firm in that but as she moved away she faltered, stumbling as her legs gave out.
Jerrie caught her before she could fall and helped her gently into a chair at the table, his eyes briefly flickering to the bruises on her arms. He knelt by her chair, "Forgive me, Princess. You know I can't stand seeing you like this…" Jerrie growled softly, "And we're running out of time. It's that bloody slayer. Whenever I turn around she's mucking up the works."
She smiled at him, moved to forgiveness, a hand coming up to cover his mouth. "Shhh, shhh, You'll make it right. I know you will."
He reached up, taking her hand and turning it to kiss the back of it before rising, "Thank you, pet." he moved back to the other end of the table, "Well? Come on now. Enlighten me."
"It's like Latin, but not," the vampire, Dalton stammered. "I'm not even sure it's a real language, at least not one I can translate."
Jerrie growled again, closing in on him, "Then make it a language. Isn't that what a transcriber does?"
"No, not really at all actually," Dalton said, not aware of how much that was likely to anger the other vampire.
Jerrie grabbed him by the collar and hauled him to his feet, "I want the cure..."
Back on her end of the table, Cassandra looked back over the tarot cards. "Don't-"
He glanced at her, "Why not? Some people find pain very inspirational." He slammed his fist into the other vampire's gut.
"He can't help you," Cassandra explained. "It's not his fault. Not without the key."
Jerrie stopped before he hit the other again, "The key? You mean the book is in some sort of code?"
She hummed and nodded, holding up a tarot card for him to look at, showing a particular looking crypt.
He dropped Dalton, moving over, "That's where we'll find the key?" She nodded, offering him a feral grin. "Wonderful! I'll send the boys now."
"Now will you dance?" she asked, holding her hands out.
He grinned, "I'll dance with you, pet. On the slayer's grave." He lifted her up into his arms, gently supporting her as he spun her around to the music in her head.
o.o.o.o
Mac wondered around Griddlebone's room, half examining her stuff while he waited for her to finish patrol.
Grids tossed her equipment bag in through the window slipping in after it and closing the window.
The vampire startled, having been considering her bookshelf. "Oh, Grids, you scared me," he said, turning, holding one of her stuffed animals in his hands. He'd been looking the little stuffed pig over moments ago.
She grinned, "Now you know what it feels like, stealth-man." Her brow rose at the sight of the stuffed pig, "So. Just dropping by for some quality time with Mr. Gordo?"
"Excuse me?" Mac asked, blinking.
"The pig."
He glanced down, noticing it again. "Oh, yes, we're very close Mr... Gordo? and I."
She laughed lightly, but shook her head, "So, what's up?"
"Nothing," he said, though his expression implied otherwise.
"You don't have "nothing" face. You have "something" face. And you don't have to whisper. Mom's in L.A. till Thursday. Art buying, or something."
"I just wanted to see how you were doing. I had a bad feeling but nothing big. I thought I'd check."
She grimaced, "Surprise, surprise. You come with a bad feeling." Grids sighed, "I'm sorry. I've been cranky all day...it's not you."
"Then what is it?" he asked, voice gentle.
"We've got this thing going on at school..."
"Career week?" he asked.
"How did you know?"
"I lurk," he replied with a shrug.
"Oh, right. So you know, then. It's this whole week of "what's my line?" Only I don't get to play." She shook her head, sitting down on the bed, "Sometimes I just want…"
"What?" he asked softly, sitting on the bed beside her and offering her the stuffed pig.
She took the pig, looking at the mirror across the room, only she was visible in it and she looked away, "Cliff notes? I want a normal life. Like I had before."
"Before me," he said, trying not to sound self-pitying, but not quite managing.
She shook her head, "It's not that. It's just… This career business has me contemplating the el weirdo that I am. Let's face it - instead of a job I have a calling. Okay? No chess club or football games for me. I spend my free time in grave yards and dark alleys…"
"Is that what you want?" he asked, expression a bit guarded. "Football games?"
"Maybe. Maybe not." She shrugged, "But, you know what? - I'm never going to get the chance to find out. I'm stuck in this deal."
"I don't wanna make you feel stuck..."
Her eyes widened as she realized how she sounded, "God, Mac - I don't mean you. You're the one thing in my freaky world that makes sense to me." Grids sighed, "I just get messed sometimes - wish we could be like regular kids."
"I'll never be a kid," Mac said, glancing over at the Slayer.
She offered him a faint smile, "Okay then. Just a regular kid and her cradle-robbing, creature-of-the-night boyfriend."
He swallowed before offering her a smile, unsure how to feel about that. Glancing around the room, he pointed to a picture of Grids as a child. "Was that part of your normal life?"
She looked at the picture, it was of her skating from several years before, "My Dorothy Hamill phase. My room in L.A. was this major shrine - Dorothy posters, Dorothy dolls. I even got the Dorothy haircut." She blushed, "Thereby securing a place for myself in the Geek Hall of Fame."
"You wanted to be like her," he said with a smile. "It's sorta cute."
"Like her? I wanted to be her. My parents used to fight a lot. Skating was an escape. I felt safe on the ice, like nothing could touch me."
"When was the last time you went skating then?" the vampire asked, tilting his head to the side a little.
She sighed, shaking her head, "A couple hundred demons ago."
"There's a rink out past Route 17," he said mildly. "It's closed on Tuesdays."
She looked up at him, "Tomorrow's Tuesday."
He grinned. "I know."
"So are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?"
"Probably," he said, leaning a bit closer to her and smirking.
Grids smiled, "Thank you."
"Of course," he said, looking her over and smiling. "But thank me after we pull anything off. Pre-emptive thanks sometimes doesn't work out as well as we like."
"Thanks for the thought then?"
He grinned, and leaned over to kiss her forehead. "For that, you're welcome."
She tilted her head up, leaning up to actually kiss him. Titling his head down, he wrapped his arms loosely around her waist. Her arms came up around his neck, one of her hands tangling in his hair.
He leaned into the kiss for a while before pulling back. She looked up at him, "Hm?"
"Should let you get to sleep," he murmured, pulling back again slightly.
Grids sighed, glancing at the clock, "Probably..."
Smoothing a hand down her hair, he offered her a smile. "I'll see you tomorrow?"
"Yep," She returned the smile, "I'll see you then."
"Good," he murmured, hesitating before slipping out the window. She watched him go before closing the window and getting ready for bed.
o.o.o.o
The next day, the career fair bustling around the school, Mistoffelees arched a brow at Grids. "Just the two of you, alone?" he asked, trying to reach his locker through the chaos.
"Unless some unforeseen evil pops up. But I'm going to be in full see-no-evil mode." Grids closed her locker, leaning against it.
"Mac, ice skating..." Mistoffelees stared into space and shook his head. "Wow."
"I know. Two worlds collide, but I like it."
Finally, Tugger came up next to them, looking deeply disturbed. "Wouldn't you two say you know me really well, possibly better than anyone else?"
"Sure," Mistoffelees said, brow arching. "What's this about?"
"When you look at me, do you see prison guard?" he asked, voice forlorn.
Grids looked him over, arching an eyebrow, "Prison guard?"
"They put up the assignments for the career fair," he said. "I knew that test was full of crap. Because according to it I can look forward to be gainfully employed in the growing field of corrections."
"Hey, at least you'll be on the right side of the bars," Grids said.
"Laugh now," Tugger told her. "They assigned you to the booth for law enforcement."
She blinked, "As in police?"
"As in polyester, donuts and brutality."
"But hey, donuts," Mistoffelees chirped.
"But...law enforcement." She sighed, looking toward the library where Cori was entering it with a huge stack of books, "I'll jump off that bridge when I come to it. First I have to deal with Cori. He's on this Tony Robbins hyper-efficiency kick. He wants me to check in with him now every day after homeroom." She slipped away to go check in.
Mistoffelees' eyes followed her path and Tugger gave him a long look. "What?"
"Misto, you're a little obvious."
The smaller teen glared at him and shook his head. "Right. Whatever, did you notice which seminar I was assigned to?"
"You weren't," Tugger replied, looking a little uncomfortable.
"Huh?" Mistoffelees blinked. "But, I did the test like everyone else. What am I supposed to be doing then?"
"No idea, but you weren't on the list. Hey, at least you don't have to deal with corrections," Tugger added off his expression. "I mean, don't you sorta know what you want to do already?"
"No," the teen replied.
"Well, you could sit in on my seminar," Tugger offered. "Figure out what you never ever want to do."
That finally got a laugh out of Mistoffelees. "Thanks, but no thanks. I'll figure something out. Always do."
"That's my brave little toaster," Tugger said with a grin, knocking shoulders.
"Oh god. Remember that I stopped letting you call me that when we were like, eleven?" Mistoffelees said. Tugger just laughed.
o.o.o.o
Cori was struggling to get the books onto the table. Grids stepped over to give him a hand, "Oh, Grids, thank you. I've been indexing the Watcher Diaries covering the past two centuries. You'd be amazed at how numbingly long-winded some of these watchers were."
"Color me stunned…"
"I trust last night's patrol was fruitful."
"Semi. I caught one out of two vamps after they stole something from this jumbo mausoleum at the cemetery."
"They were stealing?" Coricopat asked, glancing up sharply.
"Yep. They had tools, torches, the whole nine yards…What does that mean? The whole nine yards… nine yards of what? Now that's gonna bug me all day…" She looked up to see Cori pacing looking visibly unsettled, "You're in pace mode. What gives?"
"The vampire who escaped - did you see what he took?"
"No - but let me take a wild guess. Some old thing?"
"I'm serious, Griddlebone."
"So am I. I bet it was downright crusty."
He frowned at her, "So you made no effort to find out what was taken?"
She blinked at him in shock, "Have a cow, Cori. I thought it was just everyday vamp hijinks."
"Well it wasn't. It could be very serious. If you'd made more of an effort to be thorough in your observations—"
She cut him off, hurt crossing her face, "If you don't like the way I'm doing my job - why don't you find someone else? Oh right. "There can be only one." Long as I'm alive, there isn't anyone else. Well, there you go! I don't have to be the Slayer. I could be dead!"
"That's not terrible funny. You'll notice I don't laugh."
"Wouldn't be much of a change, anyway. I mean, either way I'm bored, constricted, I never get to shop and my hair and fingernails continue to grow so really, what's the dif?"
"Must we be introspective now? Our only concern at this moment should be to discover what was stolen from that mausoleum last night."
She frowned, "Fine. I'll see if I can figure it out. Later. I have to go to class." She slipped out of the library and headed away.
o.o.o.o
Jerrie held a velvet pillow with a large silver crucifix on it so that Cassandra could look it over, "This is it then?"
Cassandra held her hands over the cross as if she was warming them at a fire. "It hums. I can hear it."
Jerrie all but purred in her ear, "Once you're well again, we'll have a coronation down Main Street. We'll invite everyone… and drink for seven days and seven nights-"
"What about the Slayer?" Dalton, the vampire with glasses asked, looking uncomfortable to be in the same space as Jerrie and Cass. "She almost ruined everything."
Jerrie rose, growling sarcastically, "You don't say…" He started pacing, his temper rising as he spoke, "Trouble? She's the gnat in my ear. The gristle in my teeth. The bloody thorn in my bloody side!" He slammed his fist down on the table.
"Jer-" Cassandra started, for even she was slightly shocked by that outburst.
He shook his head, calming his tone a bit, "No. Smart guy is right. We have to do something. There's no way we'll complete your cure with that bitch breathing down our necks…" The redheaded vampire considered for a moment, "I need the big guns. They'll take of her. Once and for all."
"Big guns?" Dalton asked, voice small.
"The Order of Taranta."
Dalton looked utterly taken aback. "The bounty hunters? For the Slayer?
Cassandra giggled, pulling her tarot cards out. "They're coming to my party," she hummed. "Three of them."
"Don't you think that's overkill?" Dalton asked in a tiny voice.
Jerrie grinned, glancing at Cass's cards, "No. I think it's just enough kill."
The three cards turned up were old etchings of a Cyclops, insect, and a jaguar.
o.o.o.o
Mistoffelees sighed, looking around the bustling career fair. Tugger came up behind him. "What are you doing here? Fly! Be free little bird, after all, you defy category."
"Please don't ever use that as a pick up line," Mistoffelees told him. "Anyway, I was looking for Grids."
"She left with Cori a bit ago. On a field trip of sorts."
Mistoffelees sighed. "Damn it, they should both be back by now. If she's not, Synder's..." he paused, spine suddenly straightening. "Done a fantastic job setting up the fair this year, hasn't he Tug?"
Snyder approached, scowling, "Where is she?"
"Who?" Mistoffelees asked, trying to be innocent as Tugger babbled something about how great the career fair was behind them.
"You know who, Rosenberg."
"Oh, you mean Griddlebone? I just saw her-" Mistoffelees attempted.
"Don't feed me that I-just-saw-her-a-minute-ago-she's-around-here-somewhere story."
"But, I did," he protested. "Just a minute ago!"
"Of course..." Snyder rolled his eyes.
"For what it's worth," Tugger started.
The Principal looked at him, frowning, "It's worth nothing, Harris. Whatever sound comes out of your mouth is a meaningless waste of breath. An airborne toxic event."
Tugger gaped at him. "I'm glad you feel comfortable enough to be so honest with me. And I only hope that I'm in a position one day to be as honest with you."
Snyder considered the student for a long moment, shaking his head, "Fascinating." He made his way off to go harp at some other students.
"I'd love to stay and chat," Tugger said. "But I have an appointment with the warden on standard riot procedure."
"Go enjoy that," Mistoffelees said, shaking his head. "Shoo, I'll be fine." Grinning, Tugger moved off.
Two men in suits approached, "Mistoffelees Rosenberg?"
Mistoffelees turned and froze. "Um, hi?"
"Come with us please?" the man on the left spoke.
"Excuse me?" He blinked again, leaning back slightly.
"Let's walk." The man on the right motioned along the row of booths.
Still stunned, and a little bit freaked out, Mistoffelees followed the pair to the elevated part of the student lounge that had been separated from the rest of the hall with a couple free standing walls. "Um, what's going on?"
They pulled aside the curtain, motioning him inside. The space had been rearranged to make it more comfortable and welcoming-looking rather like a comfortable deco salon than the student lounge. A waiter approached with a tray of hors d'oerves. The man on Misto's right spoke again, "Try the canapé. It's excellent."
Mistoffelees blinked. "When did our lounge get a waiter?" he asked. "And, um, what is all this?"
"You've been selected to meet with Mr. Macelroy, head recruiter for the world's leading software concern. The jet was delayed by fog at Sea-Tac, but he should be here any minute. Please. Make yourself comfortable." The two men in suits turned to leave.
"Uh, huh, I didn't even get my test back though."
"The test was irrelevant. We've been tracking you for some time."
"Is that a good thing?" he asked, voice small.
"I would think so. We're extremely selective. In fact, only one other Sunnydale student met our criteria." The two finally left.
He blinked after them, blinked over to the waiter, and finally turned enough to see the other student on the couch. He started moving over.
Pounce looked up as the other student neared. His lips quirked in a very slight smile but didn't react much more than that. He considered and then picked up the hors d'ourves tray, holding it out, "Canapé?"
Mistoffelees settled on the couch beside him. "Sure. This is quite the set up over here."
The musician nodded, "Yeah. Not exactly what I was expecting when I showed up today."
"No, certainly not. These are quite some appetizers and snacks."
"Much better than the ritz crackers and fake cheese from a can I was expecting."
"Well, I'm fairly certain Tugger wouldn't mind the fake cheese, but agreed. The Canape is much better."
"Unfortunately, they don't have any sharp cheddar cheese. I asked," Pounce said with a small but firm nod.
"That's a travesty," Mistoffelees told him in all seriousness.
Pounce smiled slightly, "It really is. I mean they've got some cheese here, but it's fancier stuff."
"Well, at least they have cheese," Mistoffelees said with a small smile.
"True. And real cheese at that."
"Real cheese. And Canapé. I was pretty freaked out by the guys in suits though."
"Yeah...that was a little on the freaky side, I'll admit."
"So, did you get a better answer out of them of what they really want us for?" Mistoffelees tilted his head, munching on some of the canapé.
"Nope, I heard pretty much what you did. Didn't ask much. I figure when guys who look like that come and say 'come' you come."
"Creepy. Really, I thought I'd seen creepy stuff but guys in matching dark suits."
"They really are creepy." He shrugged, "Anyhow."
"So, fan of sharp cheddar. A man of tastes. I'm Mistoffelees Rosenberg by the way. I've seen you around vaguely but I don't think we've ever met."
"No, we haven't met that I know of. I'm Pouncival Osbourne. You were that Eskimo at the dance, right?"
Mistoffelees blinked. "Y-yeah? You noticed that?"
"Course I did. That was a great costume. Very authentic."
"Thanks," he said, blushing slightly. "Hey, you were in the band right?"
Pounce grinned a bit, nodding, "Yeah."
"Dingoes Ate My Baby right? You play at the Bronze a lot."
"Yeah, that's us. The Bronze is our primary gig, yeah," Pounce nodded.
"Well, it's a nice gig," Mistoffelees said, unable to sit normally on the couch anymore and curling his legs up underneath him. "Being as that is where I spent far too much of my waking, non school hours." Well, that and the cemetery but he was wise enough not to say that bit aloud.
"It is. Get to see a lot of people," Pounce said, looking at the teen beside him.
"Social much then?"
"Me? No. It's one of the reasons playing in the band is nice. I mean yeah, people, great, but you get to see a lot of people without having to spend lots and lots of time with all of them. Devon does enough of that for us all."
"Wasn't he dating Bomba?" Mistoffelees asked.
"Yeah. He was."
"Poor man. He still sane?"
"As he ever was. They were dating until Halloween I think."
"What happened on Halloween?" Mistoffelees asked innocently.
"He didn't show up somewhere or something." Pounce shrugged, thinking for a minute, "Come to think of it I think I saw you then too."
"You... you did?" Mistoffelees asked. "Oh, I ran into you. Though, I was sorta wearing a ghost costume at time so somehow I doubt that's what you meant." He bit back his urge to babble quickly.
The older teen grinned, "That was you too? No, I was on my way back from our gig that night. You were crossing the street."
"Later that night..." Mistoffelees paused. "Oh god."
Pounce shrugged, "I gotta admit, I like what you have on now better. Suits you."
Mistoffelees glanced down at the purple, slightly too large shirt. "Purple and fuzzy over black leather?"
He shrugged, "I'm not knocking the leather, it just...I liked the Eskimo costume," he said by way of explanation.
Mistoffelees considered. "Oh. Thanks." He might have been blushing slightly again.
"Y'welcome."
"So," Mistoffelees shifted slightly. "You play in a band and you like Eskimos and sharp cheddar cheese."
"Yeah, that's me in a nutshell. How about you? Your name's Mistoffelees and you like cheese, and my guess is someone dressed you in the black leather."
"My best friend did, yeah. It was her informing me Halloween was about being someone you weren't usually. It may have backfired on her massively but hey, we live and learn. Um," he paused, taking another of the appetizers while trying to think. "I like books?"
"Books are good. What sort of books?"
"Most of them. Lately it seems to be mostly about the old dusty tomes, but in the past pretty much anything. I like poetry, some old classics are pretty great. From Don Quixote to E M Forester. You? You read much?"
"When I get the time. Working on graduating and things right now."
"Senior then? How is that graduating going?" He glanced around. "Considering you're here you must be pretty smart."
Pounce shrugged, "Eh, it's going. We'll see when we get there I guess."
"Well, good luck. I hope you succeed."
"Thanks. How's school for you?"
"I'm a fan of school," he replied. "Still at the top of the class so that helps. Certainly spend enough time in the library to qualify as a bookworm."
"Which grade are you?"
"Junior," he said, and it sounded somehow like forever to graduation.
"Not too shabby, what's your class load?"
"Mostly AP level classes, and first year Latin. I got sick of French."
"Nice, sounds like a good batch," Pounce said, a little startled but hardly showing it.
"Thanks," Mistoffelees said. "You have any favorite subjects then?" Somehow, small talk felt less awkward with Pounce than the majority of others he'd attempted it with.
He shrugged, "Some of the sciences. Bits of History."
"History is good," he said. "I mean, preferably if you're not dealing with medieval witch hunts."
"Yeah, not so much in to the witch hunting bit."
"It's not fun," the smaller teen replied. "Lots of fire and bad things."
"So I've heard."
The younger shifted, running a hand through his thick hair. "So, you play the guitar?" His brain processed that statement and immediately shut down.
Pounce nodded, "Yeah. Honestly, given my choice I'd rather pursue that than school, but school is something I can do. And well."
Mistoffelees smiled slightly. "Might as well finish school before going off and becoming a great guitar playing in a world famous band."
The older teen chuckled, "Exactly. So I have a fall back."
"Always a good plan. I lack something to fall onto at this point."
"Well, I bet something'll show up."
He nodded. Just so long as it's not my uncle's money, he thought. "So, band. Would you stick with the same crew? I mean, Devon seems nice enough but."
Pounce shrugged, "I dunno. I mean we work well together so I'd have to see."
"Makes sense. I still can't believe he dated Bomba."
"Trust me, it's not that big of a surprise."
"Correction, I can't believe anyone with a brain would think dating her was a plan," he shook his head.
"She's breathing, and walking."
Mistoffelees arched a brow. "No standards then?"
"I said breathing and walking right?"
"No standards. What about you?"
"What do you mean?" Pounce glanced at him, brow tilting up slightly.
"Any standards, and or girlfriends? Hopefully ones that are walking and breathing," he added. In Sunnydale that really did need to be qualified.
"I've got standards, yeah, they're more extensive than that. But, no, no girl friends." Mistoffelees didn't smile but nodded. Pounce fell silent for a moment, "What about you? Standards? Significant others?"
"Standards? Oh, yes, loads of them. Significant others? Does a cat count?" He was half surprised it wasn't obvious he was a walking bleeding heart at the moment.
The older teen shrugged, "I don't know if I'd count a cat."
"Unless one was into some pretty creepy stuff-which I'm not. So no, let's not count the cat. Unless it's a prince in disguise I never knew about."
Pounce caught the word 'prince' and offered him a bit of a smile, but didn't comment on it, "So, you like sharp cheddar cheese, you like books, you've got a unique style, you're a junior taking Latin..."
Mistoffelees blinked, considering his last sentence. "And I have a cat. And two crazy friends. Maybe three of them."
"Neat, always good to have friends, even crazy ones. They make life interesting."
Considering Grid's extracurricular activities... "To say the least."
"Well," he glanced at his watch, "We've been in here a while, and this guy looks like a no-show..."
Mistoffelees craned his neck to glance at the watch. "Huh. You heading home you think?"
"Was thinking about it. You?"
"Might as well," he replied and sighed. "A quiet evening might be a good plan."
Pounce rose, "You want a ride?"
The smaller teen blinked and nodded. "Sure, if you don't mind. It's a little out of the way for most people."
"Nah, I don't mind. There's not a whole lot 'out of the way' in this town."
Mistoffelees grinned slightly. "I suppose that's quite true. Would it be bad to take the canapé with us? Seems a shame to waste it."
"I think we could. They're here for us after all."
"Cool," he said, nodding.
"Shall we then?"
Rising, the teen picked up his bookbag, considering the food and how best to carry it with them. He figured it out and headed for the black velvet curtain. Pounce grabbed his bag, shouldering it and following Misto.
Mistoffelees glanced back at him. "So, which vehicle is yours then?"
The musician pointed to the large van, "That one."
The teen arched a brow. "Some ride."
"Well, the other guys just have cars. We need something to haul the amps and things in."
"That makes a good deal of sense. So, you mentioned the Bronze, do you guys get a lot of other shows?"
"Some. Depends on who we've talked to recently, kinda."
That got another arched eyebrow. "Sounds... consistent."
"Well, we're all in High School, so consistent isn't the big thing right now."
"No, I suppose not," he said. "I'm not quite OCD enough to try and color code my schedules, but I do come close. Not that one of them has ever worked out, but it helps with homework."
Pounce shrugged, "Eventually we'll see about a solid gig, I guess, but we'll have to see."
"It occurs to me on occasion that I come across as an old, worrying Jewish grandmother," Mistoffelees murmured under his breath.
"I don't know any for reference, so I couldn't say but I doubt it."
"I don't really either, having little memories of either grandmother. But, I fit a stereotype?" he said and shrugged. "Anyway, before I verge into full on babble mode, shall we?"
"I think we shall." Pounce climbed into the driver's seat, getting the car started Mistoffelees eyed the car again before climbing in. "No need to look at it like that. It runs."
"I fully believe that. I said nothing to counteract that..."
"That look wasn't confident." He pulled away from the school. "You'll have to give me directions."
"Sure. It's out on James' street."
"Alright, I can get us there with no problem."
"Great. Thanks for this by the way."
"No problem. I haven't got anything else to do tonight."
"Still, thanks," Mistoffelees said, considering the night and shutting his mouth before anything stupid came out.
They drove in mostly silence until Pouncival turned onto James St. "Which house?"
He bit his lower lip and pointed. "That one. The one off by itself, as if it's offended by all the other, lower houses around it."
The other teens brows rose, "It's quite the house."
"Sure, if you like rooms that echo, a complete lack of color, and the fact that your nearest neighbor isn't within screaming distance."
"...Screaming distance?" He pulled into the driveway, parking in front of the house.
"Hypothetically," Mistoffelees said, realizing how that had sounded and shrugged, slightly embarrassed.
"I see. So who else lives here?"
"My uncle. No one else," he shrugged. "Though, there's a cleaning lady that comes through twice a week."
"Just the two of you in this big house?"
He nodded. "Yeah. Just us. We sorta rattle a lot in all that space."
"I bet."
"I-Anyway, not that any of us has anywhere to be but I should go."
"Alright. I'll see you around then?"
"Yeah. We go to the same school and all. So, yeah. It was really nice meeting you. And bonding. With food even."
"Yeah. You too. See ya." Pounce offered him a bit of a grin.
Mistoffelees returned the smile, slipping out of the car. "Have a good night," he offered before closing the door. Pounce waited until Misto was in the house before pulling away.
Mistoffelees leaned against the door after locking it, considering the food he'd taken before heading to the kitchen.
Extra long chapter due to the fact I haven't updated in so long! ((Sorry about that... life got really annoying really fast for a while.))
Also known as the chapter in which Mistoffelees dropped his sexuality entirely by accident mid-conversation.