"I just don't see why she, if it is indeed a female who you've been talking to, couldn't come here to watch these movies. You already own them all, you don't need to go to a theatre to marathon them."
Wednesday squashed the urge to roll her eyes and instead focussed on braiding her hair.
"Neutral ground is very important for meetings such as these, Uncle Pitch. Besides, we live too far away to go to each other's houses. The theatre is between us, and it's also the only one in either of our respective areas that is playing these films, which we're both fans of."
Pitch crossed his arms and frowned, he hated when people fought battles with logic.
"I'm just concerned. This doesn't seem like a healthy way to meet new people." Never mind that most people who met Wednesday ran away screaming.
"Well it is the age of the internet, you'll just have to get used to it." She leaned in close the the mirror, proudly looking over the dark circles around her eyes.
"But what if they're a predator?"
Wednesday slowly turned to look at him, one eyebrow raising loftily, but she kept silent.
"I know you're quite formidable for a sixteen year old, but I think it would be for the best if Pugsley went with you."
"Don't be foolish Uncle Pitch, if anyone is going to act as my chaperone, it's going to be you."
"Obviously. I won't have to pay for another ticket if you come with me. Besides, you're the one dropping me off anyways." She brushed herself off and took one final glance at the mirror before turning to Pitch solemnly, holding out her hand.
He was spoiling her, really, letting her travel though the shadows with him whenever she wanted. But he supposed that, much like Jack Frost had an affinity for his first believer, he had one for the girl who'd written her first and only letter to Santa asking to get her nightmares back. So he took her by the hand, willed the lights in the room to flicker out, and together they sunk into the shadows.
They resurfaced moments later, stepping out from beside an old movie theatre miles away from their home as though they'd always been there.
Pitch stared at the gathering humans with a frown. "Did this 'Lydia' give you any indicating as to what she would be wearing tonight?"
"Look for black hair and a camera."
"Oh yes, that narrows it down." He grumbled darkly, but his eyes scanned the crowd for anyone who matched the vague description he'd been given.
It wasn't long before a girl Wednesday's age approached them, garbed in red and black with dark hair, spiked bangs and a sizeable camera bag slung over one shoulder.
"Hello, Lydia," she held out her hand for a handshake, "it is good to finally meet you in person."
Lydia smiled widely and, instead of taking Wednesday's hand, drew her into a hug.
Wednesday went stiff and Pitch tensed, observing the interaction with baited breath. The last person who'd embraced Wednesday so carelessly had violently had all the fingers of their dominate hand crushed.
But, much to his surprise, Wednesday relaxed into the embrace.
"It's good to see you too. Man, you sound just like how I thought you would." Lydia pulled away, still grinning. "I'm so glad you could make it out tonight. Let's go get our tickets, yeah?"
Together they strolled to the ticket booth, arm in arm, with Pitch following behind them, not close enough to make his presence even more obvious to Wednesday, but enough that he could have a clear view of their interaction.
Normal people usually didn't take too well to the Addamses, and if this night didn't end agreeably he wanted to be close enough to whisk Wednesday away before chaos could erupt.
So he sat in the row behind them and kept a close eye on their communications throughout both movies, noticing how they both began smirking at the same parts and watched on, unflinching, as the rest of the crowd dissolved into screams at the slightest provocation. He kept his eyes glued to them even as a faint waft of smoke drifted past him and he grit his teeth. Humans; always having to break rules.
In no time at all both films were done, everyone began leaving the theatre and soon it was time to say their goodbyes.
"Just before we go, I have one thing I'd like to ask you," Lydia began, and Wednesday gave a small 'go ahead' gesture, "who's that tall, pale, shadow man who's been following you around all night?"
Pitch's eyebrows shot up, he hadn't been aware Lydia could see him. Usually when normal people caught glimpses of him they stared: slack jawed, obvious and fearful.
"I'll answer your question, if you tell me who the apparition who's been following you around and exhaling smoke though a slit in their neck is."
Lydia looked dumbstruck for a moment, and then began to laugh.
"That's Juno, she's, uh, it's a long story. I have some friends who can't exactly leave the house for several hundred years, and apparently your family is pretty famous in the afterlife, so they had Juno agree to come and watch over me."
"I see. This is my Uncle, Pitch Black, the Boogieman."
"No kidding. It's nice to meet you Mr. Black." Lydia held out a hand, despite the fact that several people were throwing strange looks her way.
"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Lydia." He gracefully took her hand in his own. "I do hope you and Wednesday stay good friends."
Lydia glanced at Wednesday and smiled warmly, so unlike the way most people looked at an Addams.
"I'm sure we will."