milliways_bar | (no subject)

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michaelangelo,
x-23

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A Barman steeped in thought wanders out from the Staff Hallway. There's a pad of paper under one arm, a well used pencil behind one ear, and for what must be the first time in recorded history every single pocket of his cargo shorts actually being utilized for what they were designed for.
Who is this model craftsman?
This paragon of of carpentry?
This guru of home repair?

Well if his workshirt is to be trusted his name is Mike and his business is Shredder Removal

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X, who had been approaching Mike--

Stops.

Then she frowns.

"I did not know people built things here."

Beat.

"Without magic."

Jostled suddenly out of his thoughts of room expansion and beanbags, Mike jumps and takes a half step backwards.

"Hmmm? Whut?"

Someone's a might bit distracted.

"You are on drugs," X says.

It's hard not to smell it, especially from only a few feet away.

And, after a longer pause in which she studies him carefully--

"Alanna said I should talk to you."

If she were someone else, she might wonder if now was the time.

Mike is suddenly very paranoid.

"Is this some kind of an intervention? I mean look, how was I supposed to know she didn't know the ones without frosting were magic?"

"I do not like frosting," X says. Carefully. "It is too sweet."

Her expression is blank rather than lost.

This is probably a good sign?

"You are in charge of Security?"

She's probably not confused because right now Mike is bogarting all the confusion.

"Sort of but not really?"

The pad of paper is now clutched across his chest much the same way a teddy bear would be by a small child.

If X were good with children, she would soften toward Mike right now.

Or, really, if she were anyone but X.

As it is she just goes quiet for a few moments, frowning slightly.

And then--

"Oh."

Beat.

"I did not know."

The set of her shoulders is slightly awkward. That's like confusion, right?

"She said that Security needed help. And I am good at protecting people."

Maybe not so good at directly quoting, but that is not in her skill set--not when she is not on a mission.

And after another moment--

"She did not talk to you?"

Mike shakes his head in a negative fashion.

"It's like...I mean, it's not that I'm not in charge of Security, because I am in charge of Security, it's just that I'm not entirely in charge of Security. I sort of like...well there's someone in charge of Security and I tell them they're in charge of Security, but that someone isn't really me."

That makes sense, right?

X tries to understand, at least.

It is a start?

Give her a few more moments.

"You delegate."

Beat.

"There is someone else I am supposed to talk to?"

It's like a riddle. Or a maze. But a maze would probably be easier. X is good at tracking. Talking--not so much.

Mike's cringe is the Cringe that Launched a Thousand Facepalms.

"I don't know."

"Oh."

Beat.

X considers this carefully.

"It will help when you are not on drugs?"

"Not likely."

Whether or not it's Not likely that it will help that he's not on drugs, or that it's Not likely that he will ever be not on drugs is unclear.

Oh," X repeats.

It is a useful syllable.

"Alanna said you make final decisions."

Beat.

"I do not think she was on drugs."

There is another, longer, pause.

"I should ask her again?"

It's like a quest. Now if only X had the appropriate inventory . . .

"Ask her what?"

If Mike makes final decisions?
Or if she's on drugs?

Mike's beginning to wonder if she's going to ask him who is playing first base.

"How to join Security."

X can also ask her if she's on drugs. Or how often Mike is on drugs.

She worries.

"She said I could."

"Uh...sure?"

Will this make the strange staccato statements stop?
One can only hope.

"Okay," X says.

The set of her shoulders continues to be uncertain.

"You will ask her, too?"

"I will ask her what?"

Slowly the pad of paper returns to its previous position under his arm. The brow furrow though, that's sticking around apparently.

Dealing with Mike is like dealing with Santo.

Only Mike does not call her 'clone'.

It is an improvement.

"Alanna said I could join Security. There are not many people left."

Beat.

"She said she would talk to you. And that I should talk to you."

There is another pause, as X makes sure of her own wording.

"Because you have the final say. But you said you do not. And I do not know who does."

Beat.

"I do not know what I am supposed to do."

If X had a teddy bear (or a pad of paper), she might be hugging it, too.

Or not.

"You're not the only one."

Mike scratches at his head, making his already ridiculous hair look even more so.
Ideas begin to snap into a formation that loosely appears to be sensical.

Sort of.

"If Alanna's willing to vouch for you, I'm totally willing to have you help fill the Security hole we apparently have. But like...I'm not the head of Security. I just hire them, and normally they do the hiring. I...I can't be in the Security business anymore, I'm retired."

"Oh."

X studies him a little more carefully.

Then--

"You are okay?"

"Hmm? Huh? OH! Oh yeah, no I'm fine. You know, I think all of this might have just gone off on the wrong foot. Want to try it again?"

"Okay."

X only sounds a little wary.

And, after a moment--

"I do not know how to start."

"Don't worry, I got this one."

He clears his through as he runs his hand through his hair a second time. This time though, it flattens down ever so slightly.

"Hi. I'm Mike. How are you today?"

Oh.

X can do this.

Probably.

"I am X-23."

Beat.

"You can call me Laura. I am okay."