DeWit Townhouse - Living Room
Upon entering the townhouse, one is greeted with a surprisingly well-kept living room. The glossed hardwood floor is covered with a large plush gray rug, the hardwood only able to be seen at the edges of the room. The walls have been painted a subtle off-white that makes the room seem a little larger than it really is. The decoration and furniture has been kept to a bare minimal. An expensive looking wine colored sofa is pushed up against the northern most wall with a moderately sized television sitting across from it against the adjacent wall. The modern accoutrements of entertainment are there; DVD player, a few DVDs (mostly horror and comedy), a stereo, and a gaming console. An end table with a lamp is situated at one arm of the couch, providing lighting for the small room. Above the couch two stark white canvases have been hung, each of them with abstract black splotches and blots on them, making them look like some odd variation of an ink blot test. There's a thin hallway which leads to a staircase and a kitchenette. Vanilla-hued sconces light the hallway and give the place a classy touch.
Wit removes his cellular, flipping it open to answer the call.
<Phone> You hear a click as the line is established.
(Directed into the phone) Wit picks up the phone groggily, clearing his throat. "Oi, Wit speaking."
<Phone> Mellie pauses just a moment before replying. "Hey, uh, Wit, right? This is Mellie, the waitress at Mary's? You left your number." She's not quite sure how much prodding it will take to be remembered.
(Directed into the phone) Wit pauses for a moment or two, though it's very possible it's from grogginess rather than him not remembering. "Oh! The girl who likes Spike. 'Ello, poppet. How's your night been thus far?" For a moment it sounds like he's opening the blinds.
<Phone> Mellie gives a little nod, even though she knows she can't be seen. "Yeah, that's the one. And my night has been… you know." It's almost like a shrug in her tone. "Better than some, worse than others. Did I wake you up?" She's not oblivious to the clues here, even if it's unusual to find someone still alive who keeps later hours than her.
(Directed into the phone) Wit says "I only shut my eyes for a few minutes. Don't worry about it. So, what's goin' on, needed some company, yeah? Sounds like you've been having a rough time of it."
<Phone> Mellie replies after a slight pause again, "Yeah, look, sorry about the other night. It's a, uh, a family thing. But … Yeah, company might be good. I'll try to be less of a freak." No promises though, her tone would wryly suggest.
(Directed into the phone) Wit lets out a quiet chuckle over the phone, bed springs heard faintly in the background. "You're not a freak. Anyway, no one is normal at the very least. And I understand about family things. They all suck. Fuck families." There's a bit of groggy venom within his voice, one that makes the sentiment stand out all the more. "What do you feel like doing? Going out? You could always come over here if you wanted. I've got my own place, no roomies. Unless you count Theo, but he's asleep."
<Phone> Mellie gives a little chuckle of her own in return, though it's not really filled with too much mirth. "I don't know about not being a freak, but I guess you're right about no one being normal." The family talk is glossed over a bit to consider his offer. "Not sure what I feel like. I could come over there if … that works?"
(Directed into the phone) Wit says "Of course. It's at 323 Glover Street. It's the only house on the block with a red roof. Kind of cramped looking since it's a town house. You have a ride, or should I come pick you up?"
<Phone> Mellie repeats, "323 Glover, the one with the red roof. Got it. And I can probably find a cab, don't worry about it. But, uh, thanks though. I'll be there in a bit?"
(Directed into the phone) Wit says "Sure. I'll see you then. Be careful now!"
Wit clicks his cellular to disconnect the call and hangs up.
-
Rather than take any chances, Wit has positioned himself outside the house on the patio. He's dressed a little more casually today than he normally is, forgoing the leather pants and combat boots for a more relaxed looking red Sex Pistols t-shirt, white jeans, and black sneakers. A crummy lawn chair has been drug out to the front porch and is where Wit primarily perches. There's a cigarette hanging out of his lips, and the porch light has been turned on. In his hands is a comic book which he seems to be casually perusing as he waits for Mellie. He doesn't look as anxious as some might seem, but his good ol' English manners have led him outside to properly wait on the lady coming to visit him. A stray cat roams around outside, mewing into the crisp night air. Eventually it scampers onto the porch and curls up underneath the lawn chair that Wit has taken up residence in.
It doesn't take her too long to get here, all told. Then again, she had the advantage of already being up and awake at the time of making the call, and with a tendency to travel light, the only obstacle was in tracking down a cab. The vehicle in question pulls up in front of the address, Mellie pointing it out to the driver when she spots the red roof. A few bills are passed over to cover the fare and a reasonable tip, before she opens the door and steps out onto the sidewalk out front. Her eyebrows lift a little to find him already waiting for her; boys with gallant and old fashioned manners are a rarity in the circles in which she runs. "Hey," she calls out in greeting, lifting a hand in a wave as she heads towards his battered lawn chair. "Thanks for the invite." There's a small, wry smile with that, though she still looks a little rough around the edges, despite an effort to clean up a bit.
Wit tosses his cigarette onto the pavement as Mellie approaches. So he's not FULL of manners… but what he does have is a start. He gets up from the lawn chair and tosses the comic book down on it, making his way to open up the door for Mellie. "Come inside, it's kind of bloody cold out, isn't it?" He asks, nodding to her. "No problem. Got a little bored myself this evening. I have this stupid house and I never even get to show it off." Inside, it's pretty clean — much cleaner than one would expect an eighteen year old bachelor's townhouse to be, anyway. It looks lived in, but neat. "Sit wherever you want. Want something to drink? I don't keep much in the way of alcohol, but there's soda, coffee, tea, Gatorade, juice…"
A start is more than most, and Mellie is hardly going to be put off by a cigarette butt here. She nods, making a bit of a face and looking briefly around the view of the neighborhood. "Yeah, I'm about ready for winter to be done with. It wouldn't be so bad if it didn't drag on so long." She moves to follow him along inside, indeed a little surprised by how well-kept the place is. "Yeah, it's a pretty decent house," she allows, sounding a touch impressed by it all. At his offer, she pauses to think a moment, tending to view liquid consumption without alcohol in it as a waste these days. But still. "Uh, soda is fine, I guess. And hey, guess you did manage to get your tea after all, huh?" She offers a grin with that, harkening back to the teasing from the other night.
"Well, now. I am British. It'd hardly be right not to have any tea in the house at all." Wit says, taking the teasing in stride. It helps that Mellie is a pretty girl — if some other dude were giving him shit about it, he probably wouldn't be anywhere NEAR as congenial. He closes the door behind Mellie and steps inside, moving to the kitchenette. He comes back with a cold Coca-Cola and a cold Dr. Pepper. "You get to choose which you want." He says, grinning at her before he moves to sit down on the couch. "At least it's not like winter in England. Bloody hell. Then the rain comes. We only have two real seasons. Snowy and rainy. Mostly rainy. Not good for a person with seasonal depression, I must say."
"Yeah, I bet they have laws about that," Mellie agrees with a wry grin. If being a pretty girl can at least get her out of trouble half as much as it gets her in, she'll be doing all right. But she leaves off the national stereotyping at that, for the time being at least. While he fetches the drinks, she takes a better glance around at the interior. There's a slight deliberation over which drink to choose when he returns, but in the end, she opts for the Dr. Pepper. "Haven't had one of these since I was a kid," says the grown and worldly young woman, following after him towards the seating. "Ugh. Yeah, I'm not really one for spending much time in the sun… clearly. But it's nice to know it's out there somewhere." She waves a vague hand towards the window. "You been away from it long? England, that is."
Wit seems more than content with the Coke. It looks and smells like he had enough time to take a quick shower before Mellie arrived, but he's still looking a tad groggy. He grins at her when she mentions not being one to spend time in the sun. "I'm not much of a day person myself. I've always liked the night better. More happening at night… everything seems better at night. At least from my perspective. I'm sure nine out of ten vampires will agree, if not because of set in stone lifestyle choices, then because of necessity." He winks in Mellie's direction before leaning back against the sofa and closing his eyes for a moment, putting the cool aluminum can to his forehead. "Mmm. A few years off and on now. I spent some time in New York first. Got involved with a bad bunch. Worse than the people I normally hang out with, anyway. Had to go home for a while. Now I'm back here. What about you, you a Dallas girl, born and raised?"
"Yeah, the night-time is definitely more fun," Mellie agrees with a grin, taking up the spot opposite him and cracking open her drink. "Though I guess you have to feel bad for that one lone vampire who still prefers the alternative…" The certain death would be most inconvenient. "Though at least day people I can stand. It's those damn morning people who will make you sick." She shakes her head, though there's still a wry smirk with that. She sips her drink, unable to keep from thinking how it would be much improved by a little splash of something, but oh well. "Yeah, guilty as charged. Though I've been out on my own for awhile now. My family doesn't really get me." She shrugs her shoulders, though talk of her family has this veering back into dangerous territory, so there's an abrupt shift. "New York though. That'd be cool. Or it seems like it would be. Guess maybe it's too easy to get into trouble there?" she suggests, eyebrows lifting a little at that.
"Ugh, morning people. I don't get it. My mother was always one. But I guess that I should blame it on the demon parasite that lives within her and makes her a horrible bloody bitch." Wit explains, before he laughs a little bit. He takes a drink of his soda and licks his lips free of the residue, watching Mellie for a moment. "My family doesn't get me either. Heh." It's a regretful admission at best. For a moment he's silent until he changes the subject, smiling easily at Mellie. "You got that right, Mellie — what's that short for, by the way? — Way too easy to get into trouble in New York. Way, way too easy. It was pandemonium. Too much even for me." Wit tosses his head back a bit and lets out a deep exhale.
"That … is just a joke, right?" Mellie clarifies, keeping voice and expression wry, though the question is real enough. "I mean, with everything else, never hurts to make sure." Vampires, werewolves… There could well be a demon-mom parasite, for all she knows. "Yeah," she agrees a little more quietly, nodding a bit as he joins her in that particular regret. "I like it at Mary's though. At least I fit. Usually feel like less of a freak." You know, those times she's not having sudden meltdowns mid-conversation. "Hm? Oh, Melanie. Everyone just calls me Mellie though," she replies, as she considers the matter of New York. "I guess I can see that. It being the sort of place you could just get lost in. And then you go too far and can't find a way back."
Wit grins at Mellie wryly. "You tell me. It's just my professional theory. Nothing I can prove…" He says, winking at her before sighing quietly. "She and I just don't see eye to eye about anything, really. I'm her greatest disappointment. The black sheep of the family, you know?" He asks, before flushing very faintly. "Sorry, I shouldn't be telling you all of this. Sounds like you've got plenty of problems." He reaches up to run his fingers through his hair, the condensation from his can of Cola making his hair just the slightest bit wet. "Melanie. Hmm. Mellie, I think I like it better." After that there's a pause before he nods. "I almost didn't find a way back. At least I did. I'm pretty happy about that… even if I don't think the rest of my family is. At least not mom, that's for sure." Beat. "There I go again. Sorry."
"Your theory as a professional son?" Mellie guesses with a little chuckle, shaking her head. "And yeah, I do know," she agrees to the matter of black sheep, emphatically enough to suggest she knows from personal experience. "And really, it's fine. I'm … kinda tired of thinking about my problems, to be honest. And then feeling bad for not thinking about them. And then trying not to think about that either." She lets out a little sigh, before attempting to wave the whole thing off. "Mellie's fine. I'll answer to either. And plenty of other things too. I'm sure anything you can come up with, I've been called worse," she jokes wryly, before sobering again. "Well, forget her if she'd rather you stay lost. Whatever else people want to say about black sheep, I think we have to get pretty good at doing things for our own reasons."
"Something like that. I'm not very good at being a son though." Wit admits, shaking his head at her. He puts the Coca Cola down on the end table, swinging his legs up on the couch and curling them up against him against himself. He listens to Mellie for a long moment and doesn't add anything to the conversation, merely frowning the slightest bit. It's a contemplative frown rather than a sad one. "Black sheep is just a fancy way of saying original, I think. There are plenty of black sheep in history who have gone on to do great things. I'm not saying I'm one of them, but…" He makes a dismissive hand motion, shaking his head for a moment. "I'm kind of tired of talking about my problems, too. So, what do you do when you're not waitressing?"
"I'm not much of a daughter either," Mellie replies, that comment a little less wry and jokey than it would have been previously. She takes another sip of her drink, tracing a finger over the letters of the logo on it. "But at least you're on your way… Yeah, I like that. Original. People just don't know how to deal with that." She looks back over at him then, shifting the can from one hand to the other. "Mostly, I like to go out and party. Get into trouble. You know, that sort of thing." She offers a smile, a bit forced, but she's trying to do her best with the whole 'not dwelling on her problems' thing. "How about you? What do you do for fun, other than fill out application forms? Not that I don't think those are a great time."
Wit laughs at Mellie's summary of what she does when she's not at work. "The same as you, I guess. I've toned down a lot lately, but I like to go out, get into trouble, do whatever it is that 'normal' people don't do…" He gives the faintest shrug of his shoulders as he watches Mellie, then looks down to her fingers tracing the soft drink logo. "The whole school thing is partly because of my family. They've been pressuring me for a while now. But I figured that I can help people by becoming a lawyer — and I've been on the wrong side of the law a few times myself, I can sort of relate to that." He reaches up to run his fingers through his hair again before he takes in a deep inhale, wiping at his nose. "What about you? Any thought to what you want to be when you grow up?"
"Normal people are boring, and far too obsessed with remaining normal," Mellie decides with an agreeing nod. She considers the matter of schooling before nodding. "I guess I can kinda understand that. I mean, I dropped out ages ago, but if you're actually smart, nice you want to use that to help people." It's just easier to claim the lack of schooling is due to lack of smarts, rather than get into the whole thing. "Once you're legit and all, I'll have to keep you in mind for my next arraignment." It's a joke, but also not entirely. At his question, she pauses and then shrugs. "I don't know, honestly. I sort of take it one day at a time. Right now, I'm working towards getting promoted to bartender. That's enough of a long-term plan for me. I like working there."
Wit grins somewhat at Mellie, shaking his head bashfully almost. "I had to get my GED because I dropped out of school. Quit going. Well, quit going and ran away to America." There's a pause after that, before he lifts his head and reaches out for his can of Coke again, sipping at the can. "Hey, I'd be glad to defend a friend. I'd even take some off of the fee and everything." He winks at Mellie before nodding at her. "That's a good policy to have, really. Besides, I bet being a bartender at Bloody Mary's would at least give you some great stories to tell sometime down the road. You've got enough spunk. You'd probably be really good at that. You do have a certain flair, after all."
"Yeah, I guess the commute from New York would be a bitch," Mellie grants easily enough, though she looks over at him with a more thoughtful expression. "But hey, at least you got the GED." She's definitely not going to judge someone applying to law school, that's for sure. She takes the pause in stride, downing a little more Dr. Pepper and then eyeing the can thoughtfully again. "Oh good. Because I guess otherwise I'd have to hope you're a shitty lawyer or I'd never be able to afford you. And I don't really want to hope for that." His comment about her flair earns him a grin, perhaps one of the few sincere once offered thus far. "Thanks. I hope I'd be good at it. Mary's awesome. Pretty much the only one who's ever given me a chance, you know? So I don't want to screw that up, even if being a screw up is what I'm best at."
He can't help but laugh at Mellie's crack about his lawyering skills, leaning over to wink at her conspiratorially. "My dear, I learned to bullshit with the best of them. I don't intend on being anything less than above average, if not excellent." He attempts to pat her on the knee very fleetingly, unsure of how she'll react to the human contact. He doesn't want to be accused of doing anything untoward, after all. "If no one has given you a chance, Mellie, then you don't know what you're good at except for being a screw up, you know? You just need a few more chances. I bet that you'd be great at other things if you took the time, and if someone gave you a break." He gives an easy shrug of his shoulders before reaching up to scratch at his forehead somewhat, taking another sip of the Coke.
"Yeah, I bet you would be a good lawyer. Way out of my league, if I don't get that discount," Mellie replies with a grin, shaking her head a bit. The pat on her knee isn't met with any adverse reaction, at least. She glances down at his hand, but her expression remains amused from the conversation. Looking back up at him, the grin fades into a more thoughtful smile, as she considers his point on her tendency to screw up. "Yeah, maybe," she agrees, though she's a bit skeptical just the same. "I like to think I'm a pretty good waitress. I must be okay, if I've got a shot at a promotion, right?" She rolls her shoulders in a shrug, trying to seem a bit more indifferent to the whole thing. Thoughtful, her gaze drops back down to the soda can, dark painted nails absently picking at the tab on top, making a quiet metallic clicking as she flicks it.
"We all have to be good at something. There are very few people who are completely talentless, you know." There's a long moment of silence after that before Wit inches closer to Mellie on the sofa, watching her still. He reaches out to dust his fingers very light against her neck. "Did I see fang marks on your neck the first time we met?" Pause. "You're a fangbanger, aren't you?" Rather than disgust or distaste, Wit simply grins at the accusation. "Doesn't it hurt? I've never actually let one bite me. I don't know if I would or not, you know? It seems a little too risky. Granted, I like risk. But it all comes with a price. I'm not particularly fond of sharp things…" He says, waxing poetic about the art of vampire bloodletting before he puts his Coke can back down on the end table, swaying to the side in order to do so.
"Yeah, I guess it's just a matter of finding a use for your talents," Mellie agrees, before following his lead in lapsing into silence - save the quiet ting of the can's tab. As he inches closer, she lifts her gaze to look at him, but with a considering expression, rather than one suggesting he should just take himself back over to the other end. Almost instinctively, her head is tilted to one side as he touches her neck, giving him a clearer view of it. "Yeah, though I prefer the term 'willing donor'," she replies, not horribly insulted by the less flattering term, nonetheless. "Sometimes it hurts. But it's not really a bad hurt. It's like … being a part of something bigger than yourself. Something mysterious and ancient. It runs deeper than just a bite." Well, if we're going to wax poetic here… "I guess it's risky, but I think it's worth the risk. Obviously."
Wit can't help but laugh at her assessment of the phenomena that is fangbanging, or willingly doning blood. "How many do you have?" He asks curiously, caressing Mellie's neck before he pulls his hand away and moves it to one of hers. For a moment he inspects the color of her nails. "I like that," he murmurs before returning his gaze to hers. "So, would you ever become a vampire if you had the chance? Do you think you'd want to? I guess it would be a chance to become young and beautiful forever, but… wouldn't you get bored after a while? And what if it was just like the books and you couldn't stomach your maker after a while?" He seems to be full of questions, more wanting to hear Mellie's genuine opinion on the subjects at hand. And moreso, he knows it's a subject Mellie enjoys — and it takes both their minds off of their family troubles.
"Enough to have lost count," Mellie replies with an amused grin, not really shy about letting him at her neck - even if the attention is a little different than the sort its used to. "I've sort of been in the scene for years." There's a small shrug with that, her hand taken easily enough. She's definitely not in the mood to fight off a bit of attention. "Thanks," she replies, glancing briefly down at her own nails, before bringing her eyes back up again, considering his questions thoughtfully. "I sort of think about that a lot," she admits a little more quietly. "I'd like to, I think. To be part of that. To be in it, rather than just hanging around. But you can't be too eager," she adds knowingly. "And being bored, well, I figure the world must change an awful lot. Think of the things you'd get to see. As for my maker, well, I guess I'm pretty good at driving people away, if it came to that."
Now, Wit could be 'smooth' here. There are any number of maneuvers he could use to pull Mellie in. Instead, he's sort of straight forward about it. He reaches out to wrap his arms around her, pulling her into something of a warm, cuddly hug, if she'll let him. It's not really suggestive so much as it for comfort, it seems like. "Yeah, I don't think vampires look kindly upon those who are too 'eager' for the gift of whatever it is. Immortality, I guess. Beauty. It would be hard though. Getting attached to people. Watching them die." Wit quirks a brow, looking Mellie up and down. "You, driving people away? Pfft. Now, I find that hard to believe." It's said in jest mostly, a half-grin popping up on his face.
Mellie is not really the cuddly sort, but then that also means she hasn't really had the benefit of this simple type of comfort during all this. She doesn't fend off the hug, though there's a bit of awkwardness as she tries to figure out what to do with it, finally ending up sort of leaning in against him a bit, still holding onto her can. The comforting comes at a good time though, as his words his a little close to home. "You don't need to be a vampire to have to watch people die," she points out quietly, not just talking semantics here. She manages a wry smile at his teasing, looking up at him for a moment before shaking her head. "Yeah, you'd be surprised. Always their fault though, of course."
Wit leans in and playfully nips at Mellie's neck for a minute, grinning at her before he hears her words, nodding to her. "I guess that's true. I'm lucky enough I've never had to deal with anything like that, personally." He seems to be genuine enough as he says it, giving the girl a friendly squeeze. "Everyone has their reasons for driving other people away. In the end, I guess what it gets down is if you really want to be alone, or you just think you do. It's awfully cold out there with no one. My best friend is back in England. I miss him all the time." Wit says simply, his voice the slightest bit sad as he does. He watches Mellie carefully as if gauging her reaction to the conversation, his touching. He doesn't want to make her too uncomfortable.
The nipping gets a little chuckle from Mellie. "You're warmer than I'm used to," she observes, as the thought occurs to her. It's not a complaint, merely an observation. "Yeah, it's - Well, let's not get into that," she decides, before she can properly get going down the line of conversation that would lead. She glances up at him a moment, before returning her attention to the can in her hands, just as a neutral place to fix her gaze. "Sorry about your friend," she replies sincerely. "And I don't know if I really want to be alone or not. It sort of just ends up that way. But I can deal," she's quick to assure, though it's hard to say whether it's an assurance for him or herself.
The young man knows when to leave well enough alone. He doesn't say anything else about people dying. As tough as he looks, all the tattoos, he seems to be articulate enough. Definitely more intelligent than the average person would peg him for. "It's alright. He's doing what the family wants him to do." Pause. "He's my older brother. Liam. Really, the one only I've ever felt any connection to at all. My dad is alright. But he doesn't get me." Wit shrugs his shoulders a little bit, not seeming too torn up over the fact that the old man is pretty square. He grins at Mellie though, leaning in to kiss her temple. "This is a fortune cookie moment, but I don't have any. So instead, how about this? As long as I'm around, you don't have to be alone, eh? I like you. You have a lot of guts. And you're different. I mean, I meet people all the time… but you're really not the same. You're something special. So any time you're feeling particularly 'drivey away', you just call me. Because I give as good as I get."
"Well, it's nice you get along with someone in your family, at least," Mellie comments, glancing up at him again, considering that. "I'm sort of trying to, I don't know, get along with my brother. We'll see how it goes," she guardedly skeptic on that front. "My sister, though, that's never going to happen. She's way too judgmental." Yep, all her sister's fault, of course. But at least sibling relationships are safer ground than parental ones right now. The kiss on her temple gets a small smile before she looks back up at him with a bit of surprise. "You are … extremely friendly," she notes, as if this is a very unusual thing. "I mean, maybe you're just trying to get some, but at least you're taking the trouble to go the long way around. So, you know, thanks." Not that she's accustomed to being used by guys or anything, of course.
Mellie's final words seem to make Wit laugh. A lot. He winks at her and breaks away long enough to get his cigarette case from the end table and offer it to her before he takes one of the cigarettes out and puts it between his lips. "Ye of little faith. If I just wanted some, I'd have already had some." Wit says it with a wink afterward. "I just like you. You're much nicer to me than London ever was. You can put her in the 'demon parasite' category too." Wit makes a dismissive hand motion as he takes the lighter out of the case and lights up his cigarette, taking in a long puff from it. He doesn't bother to ask Mellie if she's alright with it first for several different reasons. One, she works in a bar. Two, it's his damned house. "Judgment sucks and it'll always come back to bite someone else in the ass. Sometimes literally, I think." Pause. "The long way around? Oh please. You haven't seen anything yet. That wasn't even my best work. I wasn't even trying." He seems vaguely offended by the accusation of him trying to get into her pants, although it's something more than that. Like he genuinely thinks he could do better.
His laughter is met with a grin, and Mellie just rolls a shoulder in a shrug. After considering the offer a moment, she opts to take a cigarette, not that she really needs anything more to get addicted to. "Oh, I see how it is," she replies, laughing at his winking comment. There's no complaint about the cigarette smoke, no. "Yeah, judgment does suck," she agrees with a sigh, though she refuses to let these thoughts get her down. "But she knows where she can stuff it," is added with a sweet little smile. When he seems a little offended by her comment, she lifts her head to look over at him more properly. "I didn't mean anything by it," she notes a bit more carefully. "I guess I'm just not used to people being so nice. At least not without an ulterior motive. And for the record? I'm sorry this London chick was a bitch to you. From what I've seen, you definitely don't deserve that."
Talk of sisters stuffing it? Well, it interests Wit. To a certain amount. Enough that laughs. He stands up and offers a hand to Mellie, along with his lit cigarette so that she can light hers off of his. "London was London. It was whatever. It doesn't matter. I think she's dead in a ditch somewhere." He tries to sound unaffected about it, but it's hard when he can't wipe the look of vague concern off of his face. "Want to see the rest of the place? It's not much, but it's one of the very first things that my gigantic trust fund paid for." He seems more amused than anything by that as he makes a 'c'mon' motion by nodding his head towards the kitchen.
Talk of sisters stuffing it? Well, it interests Wit. To a certain amount. Enough that laughs. He stands up and offers a hand to Mellie, along with his lit cigarette so that she can light hers off of his. "London was London. It was whatever. It doesn't matter. I think she's dead in a ditch somewhere." He tries to sound unaffected about it, but it's hard when he can't wipe the look of vague concern off of his face. "Want to see the rest of the place? It's not much, but it's one of the very first things that my gigantic trust fund paid for." He seems more amused than anything by that as he makes a 'c'mon' motion by nodding his head towards the kitchen.
"Yeah…" Mellie replies slowly as she takes his hand and gets to her feet, not quite sure what to make of that ditch comment, especially since he actually seems concerned about it. She opts instead to lean in and light her cigarette from his, a worthy distraction. "Yeah, sure. Let's have the tour then. Seems a pretty cool place to me." She gives a little grin at that, setting her drink down on the coffee table and then readying to follow him into the kitchen.
