vanillajello | A Pink Corner House, Bristol, Saturday Morning

Kate was still in Bristol. Still dealing. She thought she was doing okay, actually. She hadn't forgotten about Wednesday because that was impossible and she had the nightmares to prove it, but... At least some things seemed to be kinda righting themselves now. At least Mitchell was talking to her again. She'd missed that more than she would have cared to admit.

And she'd gotten to go shopping for clothes since she hadn't exactly packed for staying this long. That had been fun, because even after all the trauma lately she was still a slightly shallow girl of seventeen.

She wasn't doing anything quite that productive right now, though. Nope, she had coffee, and was hogging the couch in front of the TV. There was some random show on, where a really tall, really gay Chinese guy was helping a middleaged former biker chick pick out an outfit for the Queen's garden party.

It was random and very British, in Kate's opinion, but she wasn't really watching too intently. It wasn't catching her attention quite like that one show had the other night, the one where the geeky guy suddenly turned out to be smoking hot. Kate thought she'd have to catch up on that once she got back to her computer and could download stuff.

But right now it was just this.

[ooc: NFB, open for phonecalls and messages and people in Bristol! Now I want to watch something with Gok Wan in it too. ...Or that other show mentioned there, mmmm.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"No," Mitchell said, reaching for the remote to change the bloody channel, "I can see that."

Kate rolled her eyes, leaning back against the sofa. "And the award for the randomest bitchfit," she muttered under her breath, "goes to John Mitchell of Bristol, England. Big round of applause."

She took a sip of what remained of her coffee, then wrinkled her nose at how it was starting to get cooler.

"I'm sorry if I'm not completely thrilled at you doing something that's about a step above being a Russian mail-order bride for the comic book set," he said, switching the channel.

A beat went by.

And then -- "What?" Oh, was he ever getting a sharp look sent his way now. "Jesus, I'm just talking to some people on the internet."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Mitchell said, matching that gaze. "Don't be so fucking naive."

"I'm not being naive," Kate told him, because she really thought she was in control of everything. "You're being an ass."

"You think boys like that seriously would spend money on you just because you're so fucking charming?" he asked.

"No, I think the fabulous cleavage helps a lot," she replied bluntly. "Still not seeing the problem here."

Mitchell stared. "And do you think your parents would be okay with that?"

"My parents are very busy people," Kate replied dryly. "Being crazy and beating people up. I should think they'd be glad I'm earning something on my own."

She didn't put much stock into what adults were saying these days.

[... Wow, thanks for that mishap, icon menu.]

Mitchell rubbed at his brow - and then did so again, just to make a point. "And you can't possibly see what's wrong about that."

"No." She shrugged. "There are so many worse things I could be doing. You know that."

"And much better," he pointed out. "If you're hard-up for cash, Kate, you can come work for me at the theatre."

"The princess gig doesn't actually pay in cash much," Kate replied, tone deceptively light. "But would you want someone as disreputable as me working at your establishment?"

Maybe she hadn't appreciated his comments and wanted to make that known. Maybe.

Oh, for the love of god, teenagers.

"Yes," he said, pointedly. "If you lay off the internet stuff, you can work for me any day you'd like."

Kate's eyes narrowed. "Think I'll pass." For now. She still had the internet stuff, after all.

"Fine."

Mitchell let go of a frustrated breath. "Just keep it in mind."

"Aye aye, sir," she drawled in reply, gaze sliding towards the television again. "You changed the channel. That was rude."

"You were watching shit TV," Mitchell announced. "That's a capital offense."

"It's Saturday morning," Kate replied, rolling her eyes. "There's nothing but shit TV on. 'Sides, I was enjoying that."

A Pink Corner House, Bristol, Saturday Morning

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