Even on the island, Mitchell slept like the dead. Nowhere near as literally, but it did take a lot to wake him at times. Annie screaming sure as hell did the trick though, and he went from prone to racing across the hut in 5 seconds flat. After all they'd gone through, after all they'd lost, Mitchell had to take a scream like that seriously, even if it only ended up being a fucking spider.
Pushing open the door, he skidded into the room on bare feet, shirtless, his boxers the only thing covering him, and stared with wide eyes at Annie. "What's wrong? What's going on?" he demanded, kneeling down beside her.
The screams had frozen Annie midway through her own set of panic. It was one thing to wake up because someone else was screaming it was quite another to wake up because that someone else happened to sound an awful lot like you. Sitting upright in the bed, she spent a good chunk of time staring at her hands trying to realise what was wrong with them before she had put the spectacles on.
Now she knew exactly what was wrong with them. They were George's. Somehow she had wound up as George and the loss of the fundamental order that she was herself and no one else was sending her into something of a tailspin. Fighting against the urge to put her face back down into the pillow and have a little cry, she got up and walked a bit stiffly into the living room.
Only to see herself there, screaming and panicking which only made her, George's body or not, start to scream as well.
Something about the sudden appearance of this startlingly handsome and incredibly mostly-naked man got Roger to stop screaming. He did notice, though, that without his permission, the body he was inhabiting took hold of some (awesome) biceps and cried right into the stranger's face.
Before Roger could explain, another figure came bolting out, screaming, and Roger jumped back, bare legs attempting to crawl into one-another as he backed himself into a corner.
Great. Fantastic. Two seconds of screaming directed in his face with no answer followed by George's wailing. He shot a glare at George, trying to shush him with a series of arm movements, but whatever little anger he felt faded away to plain befuddlement. What the ever-loving fuck did George have to scream about? What did Annie have to scream about besides? Did they see something he didn't?
"What?!" he shouted. "What's going on? What the hell are you two on about?"
Comments 19
Pushing open the door, he skidded into the room on bare feet, shirtless, his boxers the only thing covering him, and stared with wide eyes at Annie. "What's wrong? What's going on?" he demanded, kneeling down beside her.
Reply
Now she knew exactly what was wrong with them. They were George's. Somehow she had wound up as George and the loss of the fundamental order that she was herself and no one else was sending her into something of a tailspin. Fighting against the urge to put her face back down into the pillow and have a little cry, she got up and walked a bit stiffly into the living room.
Only to see herself there, screaming and panicking which only made her, George's body or not, start to scream as well.
Reply
Before Roger could explain, another figure came bolting out, screaming, and Roger jumped back, bare legs attempting to crawl into one-another as he backed himself into a corner.
Reply
"What?!" he shouted. "What's going on? What the hell are you two on about?"
Reply
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