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]

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.

[mnt_mike]

Mike saw it. Mike caught it. Mike is now distracted by it. A distraction that leads to much unnecessary noise, and allows Indy the opportunity to swipe the chocolate.

Half naked women are distracting.
Especially when they're wearing your underwear on the other half.

[slayer_fray]

Mel returns, quickly wearing one of Mike's T shirts on her upper half.

It's perhaps the embarrassment of the near miss which means she's not paying much attention to where she's going, and she plants a foot on a marble.

Thanks to advanced reflexes, she manages to catch herself on one hand and push herself right back up onto her feet, smiling broadly liek she meant to do that.

"Morning, everyone," she says, cheerfully.

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

Indy glares at the acrobatic display, and more specifically the cause of it. "Good morning. It's a little early for break dancing, isn't it?"

[mnt_mike]

Mike holds up an imaginary score card. Today is an Olympic Themed day it seems.

"I give it a 9. But only because you didn't point your toes on the dismount."

[slayer_fray]

Mel stares down at the marbles before pulling a face at a smirking Ace, at Indy's glare, and bowing her head in deference to Mike's score.

"Someone wanna explain why there's choking hazards all over the floor?" She asks, avoiding all marbles without seeming to look as she heads around into the kitchen to kiss the cook.

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

"I just figured your game got out of hand last night," Indy admits. The implications of what out of hand might entail are just one of those mysteries.

[mnt_mike]

Mike pulls away from the kiss, in order to object to their unfair chastisement.

"He didn't believe me when I said that we cleaned up after ourselves."

Mike looks back at in the direction of Indy and Ace, with a glorious pout.

[slayer_fray]

Mel is shocked.

"Honestly, Indy, when have we never cleaned up after ourselves?"

When Indy looks like he's about to answer that, she cuts in:

"That doesn't count. there was a chocolate chip emergency and you know it!"

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

Now it's Indy who is chagrined. "Uh... look at the place. I worked my fingers to the bone cleaning the other day. And now look at it."

"Trashed..."

He picks up the spare rib from Operation that's just laying on the counter, and holds it out as evidence. He bends over, remembering something he saw when he was using the ice cloth, and remerges with the red coiled lassoo from Buckaroo. Need he say more?

[mnt_mike]

Mike blinks at the newfound toy pieces. Sure he's sloppy and really unorganized, but these games are nearly collector's items. There's no way he'd be so careless with them.

Leaning to the side to peer between Ace and Indy, Mike takes a gander at the coffee table, to find the boxes are no longer neatly stacked, but are rather all over the floor.

"Do we have gremlins?"

[slayer_fray]

Mel follows his gaze.

"OK, they were not like that this morning..."

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

"I don't care what they were like... whenever," Indy sighs. "Just... fix it. Later." Because it wasn't him playing with the damn things. "And quit dilly dallying around Mr Chef."

"Do you think my girlfriend is going to be so forgiving if she wakes up and doesn't have waffles and my charming simle waiting for her on the other side of the bed? Hmmmm?"

[mnt_mike]

"How she can eat the waffles with your charming smile beaming at her from the other side of the bed is a question for the ages."

They must have Gremlins. An infestation of gremlins. That's the only answer. Wait..what about a poltergeist? Oh crap. Ghosts. He'll have to find Ray and get one of them trappy thinger ma bobbers.

Preoccuied he kisses Mel on the cheek, before ushering her out of his kitchen. As he makes the batter, he's pondering his own version of ghost traps. He'll have to get more film for his camera...and get a ouija board.

[slayer_fray]

Mel helps herself to juice from the fridge, before letting herself be fully ushered out of the kitchen, hopping on the stoll next to Ace.

"Usually it's tidier in here, honestly," she assures her, swigging from the carton of juice

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

"No, it's not," Indy counters glumly. "My kids don't pick up after themselves very much."

[mnt_mike]

"Indy's gots kids?"

Mike retorts in his best little kid voice.
He may look like he's only pouring batter into the iron, but what he's really doing is making a shopping list for ghost/gremlin traps.