Rm. 134

[mnt_mike]

It's early when Mike makes his way out of his room and towards the kitchen space of Rm. 134.

So early, in fact, that Mel hardly moved as he exited their bed, and Stampy doesn't even stir as he passes by her basket. All is quiet on Indy's side of the apartment, which is per usual for this time of morning. Though, it is rather strange that Meg is already up and out. That girl is part ninja, Mike's sure of it.

As much as he likes sleep, and enjoys the comfort that goes with that most blessed of activities, there's something to be said for getting up before everyone else. It's makes the whole house/sewer/flat seem like a strange alien world. The sounds of the day haven't begun to assault the senses, and everything is eerily still.

It's what makes his nearly falling flat on his ass that much more shocking.
How did those Kerplunk marbles get there anyway? He could have sworn...yes, the box is still on the coffee table in the living room. Sure the Pick Up Sticks are all over the floor, but that's the whole point of that game, so really it makes sense.

Once he recovers from his near fall, and the shooting pain that goes along with nearly falling when one has busted ribs, he makes his way over towards the coffee maker and starts a fresh pot.

Comments

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

It's a rare thing. The rich aroma of fresh-brewed coffee drifting into Indy's bedroom. For a while he just lays there, Delia snuggled on his chest, wondering if it's a dream. The part about Delia being here certainly is. But of a different kind. Had he got up earlier and started the coffee, then returned and fallen back asleep for a bit?

In the fog of newly waking brain processes, that's actually a real possibility, given that he's the only coffee drinker in the suite who can actually make coffee with any proficiency.

Of course, Mike can make it, but he doesn't, as a rule. Delia and Mel? Well, the aroma would be more of an odor in that case. It's curious, really. Curious enough to force his mind into first gear and tempt him to slide carefully out of bed. Indy pokes his head round the bedroom door, sniffing more deeply and inhaling the delicious fumes.

"Somebody wants their allowance," he notes with sleepy amusement as he sees Mike's figure and focuses in.

[mnt_mike]

Mike smiles a greeting over one shoulder to Indy, but the voice that speaks isn't his own. Rather that of one Wally Cleaver.

"Gee Dad, is it really that transparent?"

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

And finally, Indy manages to catch a pop-culture reference and reply in kind:

"Wally, believe it or not, I was your age once."

[mnt_mike]

Mike smiles more broadly. He's so impressed with his student of Nick at Night.

"Gee Dad, that's swell. Coffee?"

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

"That's why I'm here..." he says with a eager grin. "What's with you anyway—up before ten?"

Indy eyes the living room. Scratch that. He eyes the incredible games-related mess in the living room. And so soon after he'd obsessively cleaned on Sunday. A little sigh.

The sofa bed is all folded away, and apparently Meg has already left for work. But the drapes in the main area of the suite are very effective, so it certainly could be very early. It's not though.

[mnt_mike]

Mike shrugs.

"It was time to get up. I don't control these things. Let me know if it tastes alright. I still don't trust this thing after Mel and Delia ... well you know."

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

"Right... think that was the kettle though. They had no concept of percolation, or appliances to aid said process." He chuckles and pads over toward the island to receive the steaming mug. But, before he reaches the destination, there's a mysterious sound of glass rolling on hardwood flooring...

Then glass grinding into hardwood flooring as Indy treads on several marbles and completely loses his footing.

"What the f...!" He lunges for the counter and manages to grab it, one foot splaying wildly left, one thrusting hard forward until it meets the base of the structure with a sickening crunch of toe pain.

[mnt_mike]

Mike takes a step back and cringes as his roomie comes flying towards the breakfast bar.

"Holy crap! Are you okay?"

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

A grimace and lots of colorful curses bitten back for the sake of the beautiful girl still sleeping not too far away. A little hopping around. A little bending over and clutching at stubbed toes. Possibly okay...

[mnt_mike]

He blinks.

"Is this like, interpretive dance? Or like, charades?"

Mike asks as he puts down the mug of coffee, and heads for the ice box.

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

Indy straightens and adjusts his robe loftily, regardless of Mike not even having eyes on. "Fine. I'm fine."

He peers at the marbles littering the floor as he settles gingerly onto a stool. "What've I told you guys about keeping the pieces in the boxes? Next time you come to play, the game will be useless," he says sullenly.

Ahhh... coffee. And everything seems a little better.

[mnt_mike]

"They were in the box. How Home Alone do you think we are? Maybe we've got ghosts?"

Mike offers up as an explanation as he also offers over the tea towel full of ice for Indy's foot.

[nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com]

There is a knock at the door. Ace stands outside, with the requested items in her carry-all knapsack. She still doesn't believe the hard hat will be needed, but... better safe than sorry, right?

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

Indy is busy under the counter administering the make-shift ice pack and wincing. "That'll be Ace. You'd better get cooking matey."

Strangely, there is no charging tiny elephant to greet the knock. Indy is too absorbed in self-pitying himself to realize that anything is untoward, and Mike possibly thinks it's just too damn early?

[mnt_mike]

"Don't move Sir Gimps A Lot. I'll get the door."

Mike is in the process of tying his apron over his pajamas when he opens the door.

"Morning Ace. By all means, do come in."

[nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com]

"'Mornin' Mike. Brought the stuff Indy suggested." She slips inside... and stares at Indy.
"You said hard-hat. Not steel-toed boots."

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

A soft laugh. "That was before I realized we were running the rollerball gauntlet today. I must'a missed the announcement in the suite bulletin."

He kicks a marble across the floor petulantly. It rolls slowly and innocently across the laquered wood, and plunks to a stop against the baseboard by Mike's door. "Sit down. Have coffee. Mike has yet to start up the iron... and the girls are still sleepin'."

He looks at the cooker clock. Yellow digital readout: 9:50 am.

[mnt_mike]

Mike closes the door behind Ace, and pads back into the kitchen.

"Hard hat?"

He gives Indy a significant look, before turning to gather the proper ingredients for waffles.

[nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com]

"Says you whack people in the head with waffles." Ace has no shame. "I think he just doesn't know how to duck. Also, there's chocolate chips, and Pepto-bismol." And a small fire extiguisher. Just in case.

She flops into a seat, sets her pack on the floor beside her, and decides that the girls, at least, has the right idea about sleeping in.

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

Indy has no shame either. He reaches into the knapsack and confiscates the chocolate chips, tearing the bag open and pouring himself a handful before sliding them across the counter toward Mike.

"Hey," he says as he munches happily, "just be thankful that I warned ya, kiddo."

"Mind you, not sure if Limp-along Cassidy there could throw much more than a tantrum right now." A sniff. "Poor Mel."

[mnt_mike]

"Like you're one to talk, Ms Hamill. Have a nice trip? Or will we see you next fall?"

Mike takes the chips and puts them on the opposite counter, out of Indy's reach.

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

There might as well be an audible whoosh as that reference flies over Indy's head. There are many things he has genned up on since life began at Milliways. Ice skating is not one of them.

But he's used to it. His look says bite me, just like every other time. And he flings the remaining choclatey morsals at the chef, before he realizes the error of his ways since the bag is now unattainable.

[mnt_mike]

Mike attempts to catch the flung chocolately goodness, but can't quite move fast enough to snag them all.

"Ack! NO! Not the babies! Oh won't somebody think of the babies?!?!?!"

[slayer_fray]

It's at that point that the door to Mike's room opens behind Ace, only to slam again a few seconds later.

Only Mike and Indy would have seen Mel stride out of the bedroom, clad only in a pair of Mike's boxers, spy Ace, and spin around in the same movement, slamming the door behind her.

Whether any of them recognised them from when Xander wore them a few weeks ago is another point altogether.

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

Indy saw, but it's nothing new. Always nice, always appreciated, but barely enough to flicker an eyebrow really. He sighs and hobbles into the kitchen.

dumph.. dumph... dumph

He bangs his fist against the wall by the stove. "Ce'Nedra! I don't care if Garion did leave toilet seat up again. None of us do!"

He rolls his eyes, tuts and heads back to his stool. "Kids."

There was some clattering as Mike set up the waffle iron and prepared plates, but it should be noted that there were not really any muffled screams coming from the adjoining room 133 at all.

This could be evidenced by the sly grin Indy gives Ace as he settles back down and surreptitiously cracks the recovered bag of chocolate chips under the counter, out of sight of Mike.