3.

It had been about a week since George had become quieter than usual, and although it hadn't quite reached the height it had the night of her little "breakdown," Mason could tell she still wasn't feeling herself. So needless to say, when he came into a little bit of good luck – he liked to call opportunities such as these benefits of the job – he naturally headed straight for Happy Time to pay their favorite employee, Millie, a visit.

He was sitting in her swivel chair, spying on the man in the cubicle across from her's, when he heard a familiar voice over his shoulder.

"Mason, what the fuck are you doing here!" George asked, shocked. "How many times have I told you that you can't just come down here?" Her reaction was like a recorded response: Mason knew exactly what to expect every time he paid her a surprise visit. And even though she played a convincing role, he knew how she really felt: she ate it up. She loved when he came by, if only because it mixed things up, something that rarely happened at Happy Time.

"Only once, if I recall correctly, but I'm still trying to change your mind about that. Something tells me that my dry British humor could really liven up the place."

"In case you didn't realize, I work here. Now, I know you've never had a job – well, a real job at least – so understanding what it means to work may be a foreign, scary idea to you, but let me put this in layman's terms: I have fucking work to do, so what do you want?"

"Funny you should ask," he said standing up so she could have her seat back, "I've actually come here with smashingly good news, darling." He leaned against her desk and grinned, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

"You finally discovered the wonder that is personal hygiene?" She suggested, turning her attention toward the files she had piled on her desk.

"No, and I take offense to that."

"You finally discovered the wonder that is coin-operated Laundromats?"

"No, not that either, in fact."

"You finally discovered the wonder that is sobriety?"

"Nope, 'fraid that's not the ticket, nor will it ever be…Ooh! Speaking of tickets…" With that, Mason reached into his jacket and pulled out two tickets and dangled them in front of George's face. "I'll have you know that I came into a bit of good luck today, and you get to share in the glory with me. Here, in my hands, I am holding two – count 'em, two – tickets to see—Oh, fuck if I know. To see a premiere, fucking fantastic rock group tonight – yes, tonight! – and I am inviting you to join me. So, what do you say?"

George snapped her head up from her files and stared at him excitedly. "Concert? Hell yeah, I'm in!" She grabbed the tickets from Mason's hand and stared at them intently. "Hmm, haven't heard of them."

"It's alright, I'm sure they'll be bloody fantastic, just you wait." Mason replied, thrilled that she was thrilled.

"Yeah, and I mean, who the fuck cares anyway. We have two free tickets."

"Yes, Georgie, we do." She glared at him conspicuously, and he covered his mouth immediately. "Millie. Yes, Millie, we do." Mason turned around to quickly scan the room, then looked back at George. "Alright then, the show starts at eight, so I'll swing by your place at seven and you can drive us over, yeah?"

"Sounds like a plan, Stan."

---

"Georgie, please tell me that is not what today's youth calls rock and roll. For the love of all things good and pure in this world, please." Mason jumped out of the car, groaning as he walked over to the edge of the hill that overlooked the city, and collapsed onto the ground.

"That is not what today's youth calls rock and roll. There, are you happy now?" George asked, taking a seat on the grass beside him.

"Are you humoring me?" He asked, staring up at George pathetically. She looked down at him, thinking hard.

"Yes. Yes, I am." She said finally as she reached out and patted his stomach, causing him to "oof" in surprise.

"See, that's why the sixties were an amazing time, man. None of this sugar-coated, wah wah wah bullshit. Cry me a fucking river, wanker! Back then it was pure, unadulterated, gloriously visceral rock and roll music."

"Sex, drugs, and rock and roll?" She asked, raising an eyebrow as she stared out over the twinkling lights of the city.

"Yeah, man! Sex, drugs and rock and roll! Live fast, die young. None of this 'let us get in touch with our emotions and express how we feel about things' bullshit. There wouldn't be any eleven minute long contemplation of death set to acoustic guitar – which, by the way, should be fucking outlawed; electric or nothing – back in the day. Then, he would have just fucking killed himself and gotten over it already, yeah?"

George stared down at Mason skeptically.

"God, I miss the sixties," he sighed wistfully, wiping a fake tear from his cheek.

"I don't know. I mean, they weren't amazing, but I didn't think they were that bad either." She chimed in.

"Of course you did. You're one of them!"

"Hey, hey, hey. I am not one of them. I just appreciate the effort and am not as willing to completely trash them just because I couldn't understand the words they used in their songs." With that, she glared suspiciously down at Mason.

"You can't tell me you know what paronomasia fucking means." He taunted. George's mouth was open and her finger pointed at him, about to shoot out the definition when he cut her off abruptly. "If you say you do, you're bloodly lying. And there's no fucking way that hall full of pre-pubescent girlies knew either. Which is another thing! I swear I did not see one hot babe, if you will, the whole time we were there. Aside from you of course, Georgie-girl."

"Nice save."

"Why thank you."

"Well, I don't care what you say, I still had a good time. So thank you, Mason, for giving me your second ticket."

"No problem, Georgie, I just wish this show had been memorable, you know? Like the shows I used to go to. Man, they were life-changing, those were." He reached out, stretching his arms before folding them under his head.

"How many shows do you think you've been to in your life, Mason? Afterlife included." He thought for a moment, then shook his head with a huge grin.

"More than I can remember, that's for sure. And I can guarantee you that each and every one of them was better than the one we went to tonight." George rolled her eyes before laying down beside Mason. He had started rambling on about the first time he saw the Who live, and she had turned her brain on autopilot, nodding and mhm-ing every so often so that it wasn't too painfully obvious that she wasn't paying any attention at all. She stared up at the stars for a few moments before scooting in closer to him and using his side as a makeshift pillow. She stared out across the town, getting lost in her own thoughts, and he immediately brought his arm out from behind his head and placed it securely around her without thinking twice. She sighed imperceptively and let her eyes close for a moment. Feeling his presence – anyone's presence for that matter, but he always seemed to be the one who was there – was comforting. She quickly learned after Daisy's departure that being alone grew tiresome, but she was lucky to always have Mason around, her strange cross between brother, best friend, and dare she even say, boyfriend? Thinking of him in those terms always unsettled her, but moments like these seemed to push the boundaries of a simple brother-sister friendship.

"George. Geeeooorge. Have you been listening to a single word I've said?" Mason asked, nudging her with the arm he had wrapped around her waist.

She shook her head, as if waking herself up from a daydream, then sat there silently for a few moments.

"Um, hello? Anyone home?" Mason called out jokingly, nudging her again.

She stared out at the grass, then finally turned her gaze out toward the city and spoke up.

"Reggie's graduation is tomorrow. I want to go."

Mason sighed and leaned his head close to hers, lowering his voice an octave as he did so. "You know as well as I that that's a horrible idea, and that there's no chance Rube would ever allow it to happen."

"Rube won't know." She said simply, her eyes still fixed on the twinkling lights before her.

"Rube knows everything. He has his ways of finding out."

"You're gonna tell him?" It wasn't a question so much as a declaration, and Mason just rolled his eyes.

"Of course I won't fucking tell Rube. What do I look like, a bloody snitch?" He shook his head, appalled at the sheer notion. He clearly rested more faith in their friendship than George did. "If you already have your heart set on it, then there's no way you'd possibly change your mind. Is your heart set on it?" He looked down at her, and she had that sad, distant look on her face that he used to notice a lot more frequently when she first arrived on the scene, before she got the hang of things.

She nodded her head slowly and replied, "yes."

"Alright, then what do I have to do with this?"

"I want you to come with me."

He smiled to himself, and paused for a moment before continuing. "What? Why? So that Rube can eat both our asses for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the next twenty years, is that it?"

"No, dumbass." She rolled her eyes with frustration, and punched him in the gut, "I want you to come with me because I don't want to fucking go alone. Jesus."

She didn't really know why she wanted Mason, of all people, to go there with her, but it seemed to make the most sense. Despite the fact that he was probably the worst liar she had ever come across, she was fairly certain he was also her closest friend. If she couldn't go alone, she knew he was the one she should go to.

"I'm just messing with you. Of course I'll come, Georgie."

"Thanks, I really appreciate having to deal with your bullshit when I'm clearly being dead serious." Mason laughed to himself at her typically George-ian response.

"You're quite welcome, my dear." He said, looking back up at the stars, rubbing her back affectionately. She simply sighed and closed her eyes, her lips set in a resolute frown. Neither spoke a word for a solid five minutes, and it unsurprisingly was Mason who broke the silence first.

"If you don't mind me asking, is this why you've been acting a bit strange lately?" His brow was furrowed in concern as he stared out into space, his hand still running soothing strokes over her back.

George opened her eyes slowly, allowing silence to settle between them before answering. "I don't know."

Mason nodded his head knowingly, convinced that it was in fact, what had been bothering her the past few days.

"You know…I know it's easy to find it upsetting that our loved ones go on with their lives. That they can grow up and experience things that we never got the chance to while we're stuck here, fucking reaping. But maybe you should just think of it as—"

"Mason." Her voice was tired, and lacking the usual angry intonation he'd come to love so much. "I wasn't lying, I really don't know. Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. I just…don't know."

He looked down at her, his eyes lingering over the top of her head. "Alright then."

TBC