(no subject)

[mnt_mike]

For all intents and purposes Mike should be asleep right now. And while his mind would surely love the rest, his body has been doing nothing but for the better part of the last month.

The same cannot be said for his father, who is curled up into a rat-shaped ball on the easy chair to the side of Mike's infirmary bed.

Comments

[mnt_donnie]

Don opens the door quietly, and shuts it just as carefully behind him.

He looks up and meets Mike's eyes. He smiles. "There you are."

[mnt_mike]

Mike smiles broadly and beckons his brother to join him.

"I've got more pudding than I know what to deal with, please help."

[mnt_donnie]

Don scares up another chair and sets it on the other side of the bed. "What kind of pudding?"

If it's butterscotch, he can keep it.

[mnt_mike]

"Uh...lemme check."
Mike lifts the lid of his ice bucket to reveal several single-serving pudding packs.

"Vanilla, vanilla, tapioca, vanilla, butterscotch, butterscotch, and oh another vanilla."

If you were hoping for chocolate, Don, you're just crap out of luck.

[mnt_donnie]

Tapioca is a scourge on the multiverse. Don accepts a vanilla. "I brought you a present."

He hands Mike a book. Because he knows his brother, it is an encyclopedia of a thousand knock-knock jokes.

"It should help you with entertaining your guests."

[mnt_mike]

Mike does not squeak, because that would be undigni....of course Mike squeaks. Who are we kidding?

But once the squeaking stops, he looks over at Don and his eyes narrow.

"Are you insinuating I need help entertaining people."

[mnt_donnie]

"I thought you could give your brain a rest," Don says, serene. What Mike makes of that is his own business.

Of course, it also might be a shot at how Mike has apparently spent the last few weeks mentally torturing himself and thinking no one was going to come after him. CLEARLY HIS BRAIN ISN'T WORKING VERY WELL.

Anyway. Don licks his spoon.

[mnt_mike]

Hey, that monster was big and scary and damn persuasive!

"Oh I know my brain needs a rest," he says with a huff. It's my body that's not letting me sleep. I'm all...antsy."
The narration is sure this has nothing to do with the half a dozen empty chocolate pudding containers sitting in the trash by the foot of his bed.

[mnt_donnie]

"Gosh," Don says. "I wonder why."

At least it wasn't chocolate covered espresso beans.

"How's sensei? Should I try and peel him off his chair, or will he smack me with his walking stick?"

[mnt_mike]

Not yet it's not, but surely someone will bring him some.
Won't they?

"I think it's pretty much a given that if you try to move him he'll not only smack you, but maybe try to bite you as well. At least...that's the impression I got when I tried to leave my bed."

[mnt_donnie]

"Yeah. But you forget, I'm the responsible, predictable one. He might actually listen if I tell him to go and rest because I'm here."

[mnr_splinter]

"Not likely," says his dozing master on the other side of Michaelangelo's bed. Splinter then yawns, shifts position slightly, and goes silent once more.

[mnt_mike]

Mike merely gestures in the direction of Splinter, and says nothing.
See?

Besides, he knows full well that when it comes to their master's own well being, Splinter listens to Don about as much as Raph listens to Leo.

[realmrsreynolds]

Happy to see he's sleeping.

Says the lady in the doorway, to the curled up rodent-man.

[mnt_mike]

"Oh he's not sleeping, he's just resting his eyes."
It's the rote ninja response to being caught...well, sleeping.

"But it's nice for a break from the fussing."
Mike looks exhausted, but only around the eyes.

[realmrsreynolds]

"What exactly do you think I'm here to do, then?"

[mnt_mike]

"Dance for my amusement?"

A lad can dream, can't he?

[realmrsreynolds]

"And me without my tap shoes."

She owns some! Just you see!

More quietly: "You look better."

[mnt_mike]

"Tease," is all he manages to get out before she tries to turn the conversation serious.

"That's because you just missed my make up girl. Lady can do wonders with an air brush."

He knows he looks like crap, because he still feels like crap.
Crap crap crap.

[realmrsreynolds]

"Oh, Mike."

He's such a liar. And it's comedy and sad all at once.

There's a stool on wheels that Sallie kicks over to Mike's bedside for herself.

[mnt_mike]

He whines until the kick of the chair, then he winces. Loud noises are not his friend.

The more he complains, the more superficial his injuries. So when Mike stops vying for constant attention, the worse off he is.

[realmrsreynolds]

For a second, Sallie debates just leaning her forehead against the edge of the bed and just sitting there for a little while.

Not quite yet though.

"Learned some new tricks while you were away."

[mnt_mike]

His face is still scrunched from the aural assault.

"oh yeah? awesome new tricks?"

[realmrsreynolds]

"My definition of 'awesome', maybe. I can -- I can touch folk, and sort of see where they've been recently? Memories from their worlds."

Or their monster-ridden voids.

"Current theory is that it's from that crystal blowin' up, towards the end."

[mnt_mike]

Pause.
Blink.

"Like...mind reading?"

He doesn't mention the Phoenix Force, but oh how he wants to.