Mitchell found himself back at the Blacklight. His boss had been happy with the information he had given her, but he on the other hand felt like crap. He knew what he had to do, and he knew why he had to do it, but he wasn't sure he was ready to take on the pressure of ruining someone's life.
He melted into the crowd on the dance floor, his body swaying and moving with the other people. The smell of booze, perfume and sweat was intoxicating, and for a brief moment he closed his eyes, forgeting what he had just done. It was easier that way.
He wasn't going to stop. He knew that much. Jade had died for this, and he was going to do his sister proud.
He felt a body suddenly bump against him. He opened his eyes to see a beautiful young girl stumbling, trying to make her way off the floor, but in her drunken haze it wasn't so easy. He recognized her from the video Jade had sent him. The young woman was Annabelle, one of Dollhouse's freshest models, and the current center of a sex scandal.
"You okay?" He placed his hands on her shoulders, trying to keep her steady.
"I'm fine." She pulled away, nearly falling flat on her ass. Lucky for her Mitchell was there to catch her.
"Right. Let's get you out of here." He pushed his way through the crowd towards the exit, pulling Annabelle behind him.
Once they were outside she yanked her arm away, glaring at him with what could only be described as pure hate.
"You didn't have to do that." Her words were a slurred mess.
"You were about to pass out. Of course I had to do that." The cool spring air felt amazing on his skin. He hadn't realized how hot the club had been until now.
She just glared at him, and he wasn't sure what she was going to do next. Then, without warning she grabbed him, pressing her lips against his. Her hands grabbed his firm butt, her thin, toned body pressed against his.
Then just as quickly as she had attacked she pulled away.
"Son of a bitch." She wiped her lips. "Nothing. Absolutly nothing."
"I'm sorry." He actually felt slightly insulted.
"It's not you. It's... It's..." She was getting choked up. "I'm a lesbian!" She screamed the words, then fell to her knees tears streamind down her cheeks.
"Wow..." He honestly was speechless. The scene playing in front of him was to bizarre for him to truly know how to react.
"I mean, you're hot, and any girl would want you, but not me." She pounded her fists on the ground. "No, not good old Annabelle. The country girl who just so happens to like girls."
"It's not that big of a deal." He crouched down next to her, gently touching her arm.
Her head snapped in his direction, her eyes wide and angry. She smacked him and stood, trying to stumble away. Obviously she hadn't learned to drunk walk in heels just yet, because she made it five feet before rolling her ankle. She leaned against the brick wall of the club, crying and cursing like a sailor.
Mitchell glanced around, then walked over to her.
"Let me get you a cab." His voice was soft, caring. He wasn't even faking it. The poor girl was such a wreck he couldn't help but want to make things better. It was his fault, well his sister's fault, that she was in this mess.
"I'm sorry." She stood, wobbling on her feet and wincing in pain. "I'm sorry I hit you." She reached out, her hand caressing his cheek. She kissed him again.
"Anything?" He smiled, already knowing the answer.
"Nope." She shook her head. "I'm going to so get fired."
Mitchell shook his head, then carefully placed a hand around Annabelle's waist, leading her towards the line of taxis in front of the club.
After safely getting her inside the cab and heading home Mitchell took a breath, leaning against the wall outside of the club. He could feel the vibrations of the music against his tense back muscles. It actually felt kind of good. That good feeling didn't last for long though. Tonight was just another reminder that he was probably in over his head.
Way over.
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