mnt_mike | (no subject)

(no subject)

Sleep is where Mike is a Viking.
It's where he's safe and sound and comfortable and warm.
He's nearly buried under a pile of pillows, his favorite way to sleep now that he's sleeping alone.

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"Irrelevant."

For him, at least.

"Get up."

She gives him to the count of not-quite-one before she's moving, intending to grab his arm and twist in order to leverage him out of bed.

Time is wasting.

And it is time for another skills test.

"Wait...what?"

Mike disappears beneath the covers, and not just because he's not wearing pants. He feints left, but dives out from the bed right, making sure to try and keep the bed between himself and X.

He's fast, but anyone with any training can see he's sloppy...and no where near as fast as he used to be. Plus he's still half asleep.

"Now hold the phone, have you lost your mind?"

"Splinter asked."

It seems sensible enough to her.

"And if you do not get outside soon, it will be very difficult."

Beat.

"For you."

X is really, really good at merciless.

His arms flail in a way that one could say was Muppety.

"Wait! Hold on! Splinter asked you to break into my room, and threaten me with bodily harm at the upper butt crack of dawn?!"

"No."

X shakes her head, just the once.

"That is because you would not wake up."

Obviously.

Mike doesn't completely get it.

"It's far too early for complete thoughts right now. Splinter wants you to train me because I wouldn't wake up?"

He's looking like he might make a break for it, though...considering his aforementioned lack of pants, chances are good he wouldn't get far.

Right.

X takes this opportunity to step inside Mike's guard and flip him over her hip.

Or attempt to, anyway.

It's like a demonstration.

About the only thing Mike has time to do is Yelp, and position himself so he doesn't land on his head.

X just looks down at him, poised to move despite her casual posture.

"That is why Splinter asked. Me."

Does she need to say more?

Edited 2012-07-31 04:07 (UTC)

Mike is quiet for what feels to him like a good long time.

"....can i put pants on first?"

"Five."

Beat.

"Four."

A look of panic washes over Mike. He tries to kip up to his feet, but he gets tangled in the top sheet of his bed and falls with a rather spectacular thud.

That's going to leave a mark.

"STAMPY! PANTS!" he cries to no avail, the miniphant has clambered into Daddy's bed and is snuggling among the pillows.

Shoes. If there's one thing he's learned from both experience and Die Hard its that humans need shoes before they go anywhere.

Mike scrambles to get up, grabs the first pair of shorts he can find in the pile of clean laundry on the floor, and then makes a mad dash for the living room where he knows a pair of sneakers is.

"Three."

X is waiting right where she is.

"Two."

Her expression remains completely blank.

"One."

Bzzzzz. Time's up.

By this point Mike has his shoes on, is wearing bright orange swim trunks, and a Batman T-shirt. His hair is entirely flat on one side, and there's some crusted drool by the corner of his mouth.

In short: He looks like a wet hot mess in June.
A wet hot mess in June with his hand on the doorknob of the front door to the suite.

He looks like a hunted man, mostly because...he is.

Oh Mike.

It is only going to get worse.

But at least X is oblivious to the fashion faux pas.

"We will start with basics. For endurance."

Beat.

"Breakfast will come later."

And he had better not ask for coffee.

"Define basics."

"Outside."

"Outside of what?"

"Outside of the bar."

She keeps watching him, unblinking.

"Demonstrations are more effective."

Edited 2012-08-01 01:01 (UTC)

"There's no way I can talk you out of this, is there."

"The more you try," X offers, after a long moment of silent, unblinking regard, "the less funny you will find it."

Beat.

"I am very good at that. Now go. It will be over sooner, that way."

For a given value of 'sooner'.

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