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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"That's okay, I'm not currently in any position to criticise." Guppy says, reflecting on the fact that he came home one day this week from the hospital to find that the cat had pulled down all the curtains he'd literally just put up.

Said cat had tried to pin the blame on the dog by covering the dog's basket with half destroyed curtain, but there was no way she was tall enough to have inflicted the damage.

It's not a long jaunt to the door of Suite 134, but it is an interesting one. Walking with Mike is like walking with a 7 year old tour guide; he makes sure to point out any and everything they happen to come across.

Wood panel in which the pattern of the grain looks like Elvis?
Check.
Dings in the walls from various games of Ninja Tag?
Check.
Places where Loompa Doors are reported to be?
Check, check, check, and check.

"And here we are!"

Mike turns the door knob to reveal the very comfortably lived in expanse that is 134.

Working clockwise from the doorframe we have the kitchen, with its breakfast bar. On the other side of the bar is a hallway, followed by the living room and entertainment center. There are two doors as one sweeps their way right.

The mess Mike was referring to must be the various and sundry moving boxes that are pushed into various and sundry corners. Or...maybe it's the fact that most horizontal surfaces in the suite are now covered with decorative rocks of various sorts.

"Come on in and make yourself comfortable. The bathroom is this first door over here on the right, should you need it. Can I get you a drink?"

Guppy likes the little tour; it illustrates just how interested Mike is in the bar.

"Thanks, nice place." Guppy looks suitably impressed, not least because despite having lived in his place for more than a year, most of his furniture is actually just wooden crates with bits of material over the top, a consequence of both entering the housing market at a bad time and generally not having time to shop.

"I'm fine for drink thanks." He says, looking with interest at the rocks.

Mike begins to futz around in the living room, attempting to clear some space on the floor.

"Oh don't mind those, they belong to Dr. Jones. I swear there are more and more of them every day, and they've been appearing one by one since I told him me and Mel are moving into Bernard's old place."

Mike finds an ashtray laden with the twisted ends of old joints, cringes, and attempts to find a place to stash the offending...er....stash.

"He's moving in?" Guppy suddenly becomes very interested in one of the rocks and tries not to notice the paraphenalia. Mike's doing him a favour, after all. He waits until Mike is ready before looking around.

"Sort of? I mean, he's lived here as long as I have, but we had an accord concerning just how much of his collection could be on display at any one time. He's unloading at the speed of my packing up.

Do you drink tea?

Wait...no no. That's a stupid question. Do you drink green tea?"

"Not habitually, but it's all right."

"I'm not a huge fan of it myself, but it might help set, you know the mood. Er...not that kind of mood."

Mike reaches behind the couch and retrieves a couple of square cushions, which he then tosses onto the middle of the floor.

"Lemme just move the coffee table here. Good. And I'll go put some water on."

Then he scurries over to the kitchen.

"Okay, thanks."

Guppy sits on the couch and waits, glancing around at the other rocks.

"So like, have you never done this before at all?

...

I swear I'm not trying to sex you up."

Calls Mike from the kitchen.

Guppy goes very red and clears his throat.

"Not properly, I never managed to clear my mind."

"Okay good to know. Then the tea will totally help. It's all like...calming and stuff. OH! And speaking of calming: Steamed sweet bean paste dumplings or rice balls? You know...while I'm in here."

"Um, rice balls please."

"Righto!"

Mike transfers some pre-formed riceballs into a steamer to keep them warm, then pours the kettle water into the tea pot, which in turn goes on the tray.

"Okay, there's a bit of a ceremony that goes along with this. I don't know if it's official or anything, but it's how I learned when I first started learning. Basically what I'm going to do is start making the tea and you're going to focus on the making of the tea. Then you're going to drink the tea and focus your mind on how your body takes the tea.

But first and foremost take off your shoes and plop yourself comfortable-like on the cushion of your choice."

"Okay." Guppy says. "Er, sorry about the smell of my feet."

He sits on the cushion.

"You mean like... think about how the tea is going down my oesophagus and stuff?"

"Yup!"

Says Mike, loading the tray with wisks and other implements.

"I'm sure it'll come as a shock to you, but as a kid I had a little bit of an attention span problem. So Splinter, my father, thought that this was the best way to keep me still."

Because surely, as an adult what he's now burdened with is an overabundance of focus.

"Splinter is an unusual name."

Guppy knows quite a bit about his oesophagus, though he isn't sure if that helps.

He grins, walking back into the living room.

"Master Splinter is an unusual guy."

Then a thought occurs to him.

"You...do know that I normally a turtle, right?"

Blink... "Literally?"

Shrug. "I don't think so. But I hear many unusual things around here, it's possible someone told me a long time ago and I forgot."

"Literally. Figuratively. Honestly and truly I swearedly. Here...lemme get a picture."

Mike puts down the tray and sprints out of the living room to his bedroom. After a few short seconds of massive whole-sale rummaging he returns with a picture in a Margaritaville frame.

"That's me there."

He's pointing to the turtle in the orange mask.

"And that's Master Splinter."

Now he's pointing to the rat. The four and a half foot tall rat...in the kimono.

"Wow, cool!"

Guppy smiles at the picture.

"Are all the other turtles here too? I think you mentioned Raph, who I met once or twice."

"That's cap'n grumpyshell right there."

Mike points to the turtle in red who isn't really smiling.

"Leo and Don don't come in much anymore. If I could leave I'd ask them why but..."

He shrugs.

"You're bound?"

"I'm Barman. It kind of goes with the territory."

"Oh yeah, point. But don't you ever get leave?"