One House, Three Quincy [Jess & Aine/Closed]

Sighing with exhaustion Michael shook his head in an attempt to shake the wariness from the days work away. Glancing at this phone he shook his head slightly at the time. Hopefully Aine had started making something to eat because he sure as hell couldn’t rely on his cousin to do it, God knows what she’d been up to all day. He was almost too afraid to ask her. Regardless, Quincy was far too tired to even consider making food today. Michael had never expected teaching to be such an exhausting profession.

‘I wasn’t meant to stand in front of kids in a small hot room all day.’ the Quincy lamented. He’d performed for hours on stage in the greatest theatre houses in the World and had never come out feeling even slightly as ragged as he did after a day in the local High School. The Orchestra sessions afterwards didn’t help, it was like trying to herd out of tune ducks. How the hell was he meant to investigate the spiritual disturbances in the town whilst also defending the population if his cover job left him so exhausted that he couldn’t even muster the energy to cook a meal?

Sighing miserably Michael shook his head and forced the whining voice in his head down to a merely displeased whisper. There was no point bitching and complaining about it all. Besides he’d always been raised to understand the truth of the Quincy existence. They were human, mortals one and all, but with the knowledge to understand the dangerous unseen enemies of humanity and gifted with the power to destroy them. To defend the innocent men and women around them wasn’t merely an option for Quincy, it was their very purpose for existing. Only the scum amongst them threw away their duty.

So… basically, tired as he was, Michael just had to shut up and get to it.

The Irishman smirked in self-amusement at the quiet admonishment.

Despite how tired he felt it wasn’t a long walk to the house he was renting. Reaching the door he entered with a stifled yawn. “Aine? Jess?” I’m home.” he called out from the entrance as he removed his shoes and entered the house properly with a violin case in one hand and his work bag hanging from his shoulder.

’Food Blogging’, her mind screamed as she framed the cottage pie she had finished creating in just the right angle to capture the steam puffing up through the vent holes in the crust. Here she was with her degree in visual communications, a published photo-journalist picked up in syndication no less. But what was she doing with all her skills and accomplishments? Floggin’ food blogs! It was criminal to say the least. That the owner of the blog paid well didn’t do much to salve her ego. Oh she didn’t give two snaps about integrity in the food media. Let her claim this pie as her own. Aine was the one gonna eat it and Gods but it smelled marvelous.

Michael’s call as he entered the house caused her to power down her camera and set it on the counter as nonchalantly as possible. She had gotten her shot; a true challenge this pie, on the counter, doing pie things. Sniffing, she turned to Michael and called out, ”I’m in the kitchen. Hope you brought your appetite with you.” It occurred to her that she hoped he kept up with his exercise routine for she planned on getting a bit extravagant with meals, at least as long as this assignment lasted.

Continuing to talk in a loud voice from the kitchen, she turned to set out plates and cutlery on the counter for a grab it and growl kind of meal. ”You didn’t happen to bump into Jessica did you? I wanted to see if she could make a run to the store for me”, she yelled before turning on the faucet to wash up some things. ”We are out of beer!’, her volume rose to compensate for the sound of the running water. She didn’t know why she was worried about the beer, alcohol being something she tried to avoid as it tended to unleash her inner bitch. Not a smart move when one was a stranger in a strange land.

Japan. It was everything and more that she was led to believe, though it was not her first time being in Karakura Town. Still, living here gave one a completely different perspective. Fortunately she had begun learning the language about nine years ago, the thought making her grow silent and stop shouting at Michael in the other room. Yua had helped her practice but after her murder she hadn’t the heart to study often enough to be truly fluent. After all that time, here they were at the call of the Ichikawa family to come and help with the growing Hollow problem. Pursing her lips she glanced at the pie and thought, ’Stop yer bitchin’, this job is not beneath me. It makes it possible to do the work we came for.’