milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Mike isn't so much seated at Bar as he is slumped over her. He hates days like today. You know the kind, where what you've been putting off all week just has to be done.

The concern du jour is the lack of writing on this week's Happy Hour schedule. There's just no amount of squinting that's going to make writing magically appear on the calendar before him, and he knows it.

It's just unfair the way the universe works, you know? That procrastination can't continue indefinitly.

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"Not directly, no."

"Hey, I didn't ask to be brought here," Cal says reasonably. Entirely more reasonably than he might have said such a thing just a few days ago.

Or - well over a month ago. That's gonna take some getting used to.

"That right there makes two of us. Where are you from, if you don't mind me asking?"

Oh, right, introductions.

"New York, 1997. I'm Cal Chandler," he adds, "nice to meet you."

"Sweet! Another fellow New Yorker! I'm Michaelangelo."

Says Mike offering his hand.

"But seriously, just call me Mike."

Cal laughs, shaking Mike's hand.

"Will do. You know, I think you might be the first other American I've met. It seems like just about everyone here is from Britain."

"Really?"

Mike blinks back in surprise.

"I gotta say that you're one of the few people around here from roughly my time.

...

How into pop culture are you?"

"I used to watch a lot of TV and movies," Cal says. He'd done so mostly stoned, so he doesn't actually remember as much as he thinks he does, but he omits that part for the time being.

Which is a shame because then they'd have THREE things that they have in common. Which isn't to say that the two that he knows about isn't enough.

"Excellent! Welcome to Milliways! Maybe like, you just come in here around the time all the British people are in here, because I don't notice any outnumbering or anything."

For the record Mike is dressed like every single bad American Tourist stereotype out there. Hawaiian shirt, cargo shorts, flip flops, all he's missing is the fanny pack.

"Lucky me," Cal says with a laugh. "Maybe I should try to meet more people."

"Well you're off to a good start now, I know almost everyone!"

"Ah, yes, the importance of networking," Cal says, and if his tone sounds just a little drier than it really needs to, he doesn't appear to notice.

Mike is kind of oblivious at times.
This is one of these times.

"Never hurts to have an ear to the underground."

Says the guy who used to live in the sewers.

"Or to know people who do," Cal says with a nod. "Well. Except for when it does," he adds reflectively, then shakes his head slightly and says, "I'll make sure to keep an eye out for you if I've got questions about anyone."

"I can't promise I'll have answers to your questions, but I usually remember something about everyone."

Mike taps his temple.

"Selective memory, or at least that's what my brother Donnie calls it."

Raph just says he's a dumbass, surprisingly Mike is leaving that part out.

Cal chuckles. "Yeah, I've got one of those, too. It usually selects not to."

That made sense, right?

Amazingly,...yes.

"Between you and me I think that's what mine does too, but I just tell people I don't remember stuff because I'm constantly filtering all of the bar through my mind. Sounds a lot better than I melted my brain on one too many brownies."

"Yeah, that's -"

Whatever "that" is shall be forever lost, because Cal is suddenly and thoroughly derailed as a completely new thought occurs to him.

". . . Huh." He tilts his head and says slowly, "Do you think that if something - reset you so your scars disappeared, that . . . internal damage would be gone, too?"

Well that's quite the downshift in conversation topic, isn't it?

"Uh...maybe? How do you mean?"

Cal excels at confusing people. Once in a very great while, it's even on purpose. This, of course, is not one of those times.

"Like if your DNA got - redone," Cal says. "Put back to what it's supposed to be. Yeah, that would make sense, wouldn't it?" He grins.

"Dude...you were like...reshuffled?"

"'Reshuffled,'" Cal repeats musingly. He kinda likes it. "Yeah, I guess. Yeah. Reshuffled." Another grin. "I'll have to remember that one."

"Okay so wait...how did that happen? Because this, this I gotta hear."

"Uh." Cal is grinning slightly less now. "There were these things called nanogenes that reshuffle your DNA, and I ran into some bad ones. Then they got reprogrammed and I got fixed."

Hey, at least all the practice has helped him figure out how to boil it down to basics. He just really wishes he understood what the hell he was talking about a little better.

"Woah! You could be rebuilt! Someone had the technology! You realize I might be forced to make the bananananananananananana noise at you anytime I see you running, right?"