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[mnt_mike]

The doorway to the Staff Hallway swings open with a well oiled swish which is then quickly followed by a pop not unlike the sound one hears when opening a well sealed Tupperware container. Which is, in turn, quickly followed by the sound of a Barman saying, "...oh boy," right before redirects his tripping momentum into a perfectly executed tuck-and-roll. 

Behind Bar a banner appears:
HAPPY BIRTHDAY MIKE

There are also party hats, a cake for Mike, several as-yet-uncarved pumpkins, as well as some pretty interesting looking knives. You know, for when he finally gets to Bar and starts the Happy Hour he's supposed to be hosting today.

Comments

[headed4hell]

Grace is in the bar.

She's supposed to be questioning the asshole in Interrogation room B, the one who called her the s-word, the one she'd really rather not get into trouble for hurting right now, so of course she's in the bar, drink and smoke in one hand whole the other reaches out for a wicked looking knife.

Cool.

Apologies, Mike. She's just going to think real hard about this knife for a moment.

[mnt_mike]

Bah, no apologies necessary. He gets it. There's a whole lot of shiny on Bar at the moment. Not to mention the push dagger she's eyeing is really damn pretty.
Like...really.

Mike hops to his feet and then shuffles his way over towards Bar in pants that are now nearly a foot too long.

When he gets to Bar there's an apple crate for him to stand on.

"Why am I not the slightest bit surprised you'd go for a push dagger first?"

[headed4hell]

That's Mike's voice. Grace looks up and refocuses...

Huh.

Years of maintaining a straight face and steely -- some may say detached -- gaze when confronted with surprises serves Grace well when Mike is temporarily below eye level and then... mostly not. She blinks and a low rumble of a laugh escapes.

Eventually, "You're short."

They'll get back to the knife. First things first: turtle.

[mnt_mike]

His eyes are the same.
His affable self-confident smirk is the same.
Even the way he carries himself is exactly the same, up to and including the now too long cargo pants and the bright orange Hawaiian shirt.

Everything is exactly the same, except for all the stuff that isn't.
Like the shell.

"I prefer to think of myself as Fun Sized. Not unlike a trick or treat candy bar."

[headed4hell]

The noise she lets out next could, in the most generous of interpretations, be called a snicker-snort.

"You would."

That's approval in her voice, lest anyone think she hasn't called herself fun-sized a time or many in the past.

Her eyes take in the pumpkins, then the banner. "So it's a theme thing."

Casually and not at all suggestively, she runs a finger tip along the knife's edge and grins.

[mnt_mike]

Here he rolls his eyes dramatically.

"She thinks she's being cute."
Though...from his tone, it's clear he agrees.

"But yeah. Kind of." Then his eyes drift down to her hands, and the knife. There's a barely imperceptible hardswallow of air.

"Careful, those're sharp."

[headed4hell]

"Cute like a fox," she laughs. Crazy like one too, which is the point of the weird analogy. She trusts Mike'll keep up, especially when she very-nearly-but-not-quite does the same thing with her tongue that she'd done with her fingertip.

"Happy birthday."

She flips the knife in the air, then sets it aside and takes a drink, turning her wrist so she doesn't put out an eye with her still lit cigarette.

"This planned?" she asks, gesturing to his, well, shell. Thus far, she still looks like herself; Grace is under no illusion that it'll stay that way if Bar's in charge of this Birthday-Halloween shindig.

[mnt_mike]

"Thank you," he says easily, his eyes trailing the path of the knife. He knows that she knows about the connection between him and Bar. And he knows that she knows her way around weapons. But...he also knows exactly how sharp these knives are, and he can't help but be cautious.

After all, there's no telling exactly WHERE the wound on him would appear, should Bar get nicked.

"My birthday? Well yeah, happens on the same two days every year."
Mike grins that smug little grin of his.

[whatisastiles]

Stiles is pretty sure Mike the Barman is usually a dude. A human dude.

As for the interesting knives... they earn a noticeable shudder. The memory of nearly having to amputate Derek's arm is a leeeeetle too fresh.

Better not to think of that at all. Knives bad.

Maybe Bar has some ginger ale.

[mnt_mike]

Not right now she doesn't. She's officially Off Duty for Naps, so that order of ginger ale is going to have to wait...while the barely five foot tall bipedal turtle wrestles with his pants.

The narration would say that this is a dignified endeavor, but they're trying to get better about that whole bald-faced lying thing.

"Be right...damnitjuststop...there."

[whatisastiles]

Is he wrestling the pants on or off? Stiles can't really tell.

"Costume malfunction?"

[mnt_mike]

"somethinglikethat," Mike grumbles.
He reaches into one of the many pockets his cargo pants sports and retrieves a packet of throwing knives. For a split second Mike considers making his pants shorts, but realizes that the frustration he's feeling is temporary...and these pants are forever. So he takes a deep breath, pockets the knives, and instead rolls up the legs so he can at least walk.

Once his feet are freed, he kips up to his feet and pads his way over towards Bar, the pumpkins, and Stiles.

"Well that was horribly undignified. How's your day going?"

[whatisastiles]

"Very dignified. No amputation requests. A++ would have this day again."

So many knives.

"You Mike?" he asks, gesturing at the banner.

[mnt_mike]

Mike follows the gesture, smile broadening when he takes in the sight of the banner.

"That I am. Aww lookit that, isn't she just the damn cutest thing you've ever seen?"

That's the point where he gives the now sleeping bar a comforting pat.

"What can I do you for?" he asks Stiles.

[whatisastiles]

"She's adorable. Dont'cha just wanna pinch her cheeks?"

Too far?

"I wouldn't so no to some of that cake, if you're sharing. And a gatorade."

It's because he's an athlete, not because of the sugar.

"I'm Stiles."

[mnt_mike]

Just a bit, not that Mike seems to mind.
He just nods, and heads towards a cooler.

"Electrolytes are what plants crave" he says to himself as he makes his way towards the cooler that holds the sports beverages.

He pauses briefly at the introduction.

"Oh so you're Stiles."
Mike grins.
"Got a color preference, Stiles?"

[headed4hell]

Knives awesome.

"Hey, kid." Grace waves at Stiles with the beer she's now drinking. A moment later, she drops her lit smoke in the beer and pushes the bottle across the bar. Look at Grace, being all considerate and stuff. "How's the jeep?"

[whatisastiles]

Grace crazy.

"Well, Raph made her run again."

He gets no brownie points for that, seeing as he broke her in the first place.

[headed4hell]

The sky is blue, grass is green, etc.

"Sure, sure. At the time. I wasn't sure if the fix held, is all."

Grace grins like she hadn't just given him something new to worry about.

"How're you?"

[whatisastiles]

"Yeah, the fix held," he says. "And then Derek showed up and bled in it."

His poor Jeep gets no respect.

"I'm seriously questioning what I've done in life to bring me to this point."

So he's secretly loving all the drama, basically.

[headed4hell]

"See, that's why you don't have a last chance angel on your ass," Grace snorts. "Self-examination."

She leans over and pats him on the shoulder, the pat soon turning into a grasp.

"What happened to Wolfy McHotass?"

Beat.

"Why was he in your ride? You two BFFs now?"

[whatisastiles]

"Wolfy Mc... last chance angel?"

What the hell is she talking about? There are missing pieces to this story.

"McPainintheass is more like it," he grumbles. "And we are not friends."

Glare.

"He walked his dying ass in front of my car, then demanded I amputate his arm."

[fry_sandhu]

"Happy Birthday."

Fry, who is inside hiding from the noise of the halloween party, climbs on a barstool and presents Mike with a box.

[mnt_mike]

Mike hears the familiar voice offering birthday wishes and turns towards Fry.

"Fryman! Aww thanks! Did you...you brought me a present? You know you didn't have to do that."

Which isn't to imply that he won't take said gift, because...he's totes going to take it.

[fry_sandhu]

"It's from all of us." Fry says. "Gil wanted to get you a pink rabbit, but we overruled him. The others are at the party."