milliways_bar | (no subject)

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When Sallie wakes up in her apartment, Bar helpfully supplies a reminder that Cubefall has started. She takes her time - showering, dressing, eating breakfast - before heading out into the main bar and getting presented with her choices.

Choice one: A small cat, all white fur and blue eyes.
Choice two: Sallie herself, but with bird's wings.
Choice three: A four foot fall humanoid rat.

Choice three makes Sallie stare for a minute. Or five. Wondering who was listening in, in their way.

She says no for all of them and disappears back to her apartment again.

[ooc: not for tagging, say sorry.]

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"Huh," says a familiar voice just behind Sallie. "Those are some iiiiinteresting choices you've got there, Mrs. Reynolds."

Sallie doesn't turn around at the voice, but the screen reflects her rolling eyes pretty well.

"I don't know what you're talking on, Michaelangelo."

"Me? Talking on something? Why that doesn't sound like me in the slightest."

The screen gets lightly shoved away, refusing the choices offered entirely.

"I'm just funning, I didn't mean to kick up a fuss."
Mike gives her arm a reassuring squeeze.

Sallie looks down at Mike's hand, ready to comment about how she wouldn't have picked anything anyway --

But.

"Mike. Why's your hand green 'n missing fingers?"

"Accidental chemical spill."

No beats are missed.

"Mike!" Sallie spins around on her barstool, staring at Mike in all his turtle-ness next to her. "Wh--is this what you chose for Cubefall? Why?"

"It is. You like? I just had it waxed."
His shell gets a pat with a newly green'd hand.

"...I'm back at my first question, but I'm assuming I'm going to get a 'because I wanted to Sallie' as an answer."

"There is a distinct possibility of that, yes."

"Okay then."

After another second.

"Sorry about repeating myself." Sallie taps one finger up near her ear. "You sound different. More muted."

"Oh? I...hadn't considered that, but it makes sense."

The fact that he goes ever so slightly still as he says that? Is a sure tell that he might not be 100% with the honesty.

Apparently, Sallie doesn't miss Mike's tells when he's a turtle either.

"Do I get to ask, or should I just keep my guesses to myself?"

"Depends."

"On?"

"Do I get to ask?" he says gesturing towards the Cubefall Vid Screen.

"Quid pro quo, Clarice."

Damn it all.

After an inordinately long moment of silence:

"I ask you first."

Damn it!
He was counting on her not calling his bluff.

"Yearning for simpler times."
He follows that up with a gesture inviting her to continue.

That's actually...a perfectly reasonable, suscinct answer.

Sallie goes for much the same, very carefully worded: "Much like your 'simpler times', that -- " pointing to the discarded vidscreen, " -- is something that is not possible."

His lopsided grin makes an appearance.

"And here I was under the assumption that we ate the impossible for lunch."

"There's the 'mutant turtle bartender guy' impossible and then there's impossible."

The smile evens out, and looks a bit sad when it does.

"Gotcha."

Wait.

"What's with the long face?"

"Huh? Oh this?," he points to his face. "It's nothing. I'm just not a fan of that level of impossible."

It tends to eclipse things. Things like hope.

Sallie just exhales. "I know you aren't."

But she doesn't say anything to make it better.

And she very much doesn't agree with him.

He reaches out and gives her arm a gentle squeeze.
As he does so the mental blocks around the link begin to lighten. It's different, the way things transfer and translate in his once again reptilian brain. The contrast is higher, but the sharpness is gone. Dulled, if you will.

"Maybe next year."

Sallie's mind flashes to Charlie in silver, and Sallie much younger.

"It's never a good idea, dear."

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