milliways_bar | (no subject)

Sara gives a shaky laugh. "No...not everything. But it does make a person feel better at times. And thanks."

"Hey, no problem. I'm Mike."

He extends a gree, three fingered hand. It's only slightly warmer than room temperature.

"Sara." She shakes his hand. It's only slightly odder than when a faery had greeted her the first time she was here, after all.

She tries smiling. It doesn't come across well. "I was called at home...told a..friend had passed away. I couldn't handle it there." She shrugs.

He nods.

"Go on, drink your cocoa. Get comfy."

Mike could have just walked around the couch, but jumping just seemed faster. If Sara blinked, she might have missed it. Mike is now seated on the floor next to the couch, looking into the fire.

If it's one thing he's learned about humans, it's that they don't like to actually look at you when they're grieving.

"You were close?"

"No..not really. Oh to hell with it." She drinks down some of the cocoa.

"I'm a criminalist..working out of Las Vegas. The woman who died had been raped and shot twice in the head--left a vegetable--by some kid as part of a gang initiation.

"Her husband called me. Said I was the last person to treat her as a person and not another case number."

She shakes her head, staring off into space. "I truly wonder about people at times."

Mike shakes his head.

"I hate gangbangers, I really do."

He turns to face her.

"You people do good work. Important work."

She smiles. For the first time it feels real.

"Thanks. I appreciate that, Mike."

She drinks more of the cocoa. "Man, this is some nice stuff. So where are you from?"

Death is for the dead, life for the living. Sara will move on. Eventually.

"You're very welcome. It's nice to be thanked for just telling the truth."

He nods in the direction of the cocoa.

"Of course it is. Scalded milk. Only the best for Las Vegas' finest. Me? I'm from New York, 1996."

"Ah. A bit before my time then." Her head tilts a bit, the innate scientist coming out to play.

"Do you mind if I ask...how did you..come into being? I've never seen your kind before." She hopes Mike doesn't get offended, but she isn't sure how else to phrase her question.

"They don't have turtles in Nevada?"

He smirks.

"Not ones that are human-sized, bipedal, and can speak," she retorts. "Only thing we have are the desert tortoises, for that matter." Smartass.

"Yeah, I know what you meant. Just being a dick. Radioactive chemical waste. Mutated my brothers and I when were were hatchlings. Us and our master."

"Hmmm." Sara nods thoughtfully. "Could certainly happen, given the right circumstances. Which obviously occurred. Is your master another turtle?"

"Nope, Master Splinter is a rat. Not like a bad person rat....like a real rodent rat."

"Well, I'm sitting here, drinking cocoa, and speaking to a giant walking, talking turtle. A giant walking, talking rat doesn't sound like much of a stretch." She gives him a brief smile, beginning to feel a little better.

Her head tilts again. "Why do you wear a bandana?"

"It's a disguise. So on one knows I'm a turtle."

He waits a beat, and then unties the bandana.

"We don't have eyebrows, so we need something to keep the sweat from running into our eyes. It's to the point now where I forget I'm even wearing it.

It's just they're terribly comfortable. I
think everyone'll be wearing them in the future."

If Sara has ever watched The Princess Bride she will recognize the voice of Wesley.

"You like The Princess Bride? I don't know many guys who would admit to that," she replies with a teasing grin.

"I was just wondering. And feel free to tell me to mind my own business. I tend to be overly nosy at times." So saying, she drinks down the last of the cocoa.

"Bah, silly human males and their silly notions of masculinity. It just means I get to keep their ladies company while they're off being all Manly.

And don't worry about the questions, I get them all the time. Kind of goes with the territory, you know?"

Sara laughs, long and hard. Still feels strange to laugh, but she can't deny that she needs it.

"I'm sure that it does. I just didn't want to make a nuisance of myself."

She raises an eyebrow, thinking over his statement. "So you have no predisposition to human concepts of masculinity/femininity?" Talking more to herself, "Makes sense. Differing environments, diffrent biological systems and drives, hell, simply different cultures..."

"You'd have to out pest me in order to be a nuisance, and trust me when I say that'd be a feat.

Well I don't. I won't speak for my brothers. For the most part we're not human, and I think a lot of people forget that when they talk to us."

"I'd have to act like Greg then," she muses, grinning at the thought.

She sighs, smiling wryly. "Unfortunately, I can say that is typical for humans. Until I came here, I never thought about other sentient forms of life as more than a theoretical problem in philosophy. We..like to think we're the only ones and we're special. We're self-centered." She shrugs slightly, looking apologetic. "So if I ever sound condescending or anything, feel free to whap me over the head."

Mike reflexivly rubs the back of his head with his hand.

"Oh trust me, if it's one thing I'm good at, it's that. And only because I've been on the recieving end for far too long. Nah, you're fine."

She laughs. "Let me guess-you're the youngest of the bunch?"

"You're good at this game. Well, kind of. We're all really the same age, though we might not all be from the same clutch. I'm just shorter, so I'm the baby. Suits me fine, means I have less responsibility, which is just how I like it."

She laughs again. "Call it a gift--I can normally tell after talking with someone if they're married, an only child, the firstborn, or the last."

She toys with her mug. "I have an older brother...we don't see each other all that much, but I love him dearly. And my fellow CSIs have blended into a delightfully dysnfunctional family."

She shrugs a bit. "Well, we do work the nightshift. We're bound to be a little weird, I think. My supervisor is an entomologist, and once lectured a pest control official about the cruelty of exterminating insects. It was hilarious."