"Yeah," Mitchell agreed dully. A few months ago Annie had been dragged, crying and screaming and clawing the floor, through a door. Fucking Kemp and his bloody exorcism. Mitchell missed her. More than he had expected to, but he was stuck here and there wasn't a bloody thing he could do about it. He sighed and rubbed4e his thumb into the corner of his eye to try and see off a predictable headache.
"I've got high standards mate," he commented, tapping the ash from the end of his cigarette. A total lie, kind of. There had been a time when he'd have gone to bed with basically anyone. These days Mitchell was living a pretty chaste lifestyle. He took the bottle that was shoved at him and took a gulp, holding the bottle up to read the label. "No offence. This stuff tastes like bollocks," he finally told Spike, handing it back.
He nodded again, silent this time but still grateful. He would tell Selene himself, maybe. He'd see how he felt about it all a bit later, when he'd got his head sorted. Mitchell sighed and stretched long, thin arms up over his head until his shoulder clicked. "I should probably get moving," he admitted reluctantly.