the bones of our past - Lockwood x Lucy

Dear to Me // Alone in Here

A/N: Heartbreaking: The two most miserable people you know still will not communicate with each other!!

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"I'm rather starved. But what about you, my dear? I think it's time for our lunch date with the Whites," George heard Lockwood say, and honestly, the nonchalance in which he spoke didn't do much to cool George's anger. It was just that Lucy found words first.

"Why the hell did you do that?" she asked with a scowl, but Lockwood pretended not to follow.

"Whatever are you talking about?"

"Well, why'd you have to shut him down like that? He might've actually turned out to be useful!"

"Oh, come on!" Lockwood called out, clearly annoyed. "Are we supposed to just accept any offer of help that crosses our way now? We're still an agency. We have to have some discretion."

George, of course, knew that this here wasn't just about the agency's discretion . Sure, after everything that had happened with Joplin, he knew they wouldn't get another outsider involved in their investigations in the near future. But Lockwood's reaction to Sam had been over the top - and all because of his damn jealousy.

It wasn't even that George particularly liked the boy - quite the opposite he thought he was rather whiny - but bloody hell, in a town like this where they couldn't count on everything having been meticulously collected in the library, they needed every help they could get to gather information.

"He did seem to know a few people," George muttered disgruntledly, "which is always very helpful in a case as widespread as this! He was right about his job, too. We could've gotten into nearly any house with that cover."

"You know we can always dress up as handymen ourselves. He can't do anything we can't," Lockwood argued, and for a split second, George had to fight the urge to call him out on his bullshit.

"Well, he must not be too good at his job, anyway," Lucy commented, and George felt a bit betrayed by her. "What kind of craftsman has a dripping tap in his own kitchen?"

"Good one, Luce," Lockwood nodded. "I didn't even notice that."

George sighed defeatedly. "You know, one day, your ego is going to get us killed."

"And I'll make sure our reputation is still intact when that happens. So, Mary, George, are you going to join us for lunch?"

Mary's head whipped up at the mention of her name. "No. I wish I could, but I've gotta go and steal a new EpiPen from the good old doctor. I still am deathly allergic to nuts. I really need it."

Lucy frowned at the mention of her little sister stealing. "I know mum won't give you any money, but I actually earn something now when Lockwood doesn't forget to pay me. I'll gladly pay for that. It was me who had to use it, anyway."

"Nice of you, but no, it's alright." Mary shook her head. "It's fun to steal from him. I'm pretty sure he has dementia anyway, so he's not even going to remember me by tomorrow. He probably forgot all about last night already. Anyways, see you later!"

To George, she whispered quickly, "Tell me about everything that happened during lunch," to which he gave her an inconspicuous thumbs-up.

Poking fun at Lucy's and Lockwood's idiocy concerning each other was that much more fun now that he had someone to share it with.

"Does Mary have something against your doctor?" Lockwood asked Lucy with mirth in his tone. "EpiPens aren't exactly cheap the last time I checked."

George knew that he was right about that: As the problem's death toll had risen, so had the cost for everything that involved adrenaline. It was the only cure for ghost touch, after all. Medications that had been relatively cheap in England before were now often sold for tenfold their original prices.