tushanshu | 002 Audio - The One Where Mike Tries To Barter

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002 Audio - The One Where Mike Tries To Barter

So...okay. Here's the thing. I can live frugal. I'm good at living frugal. There are fewer people out there who can dumpster dive as efficiently as I can. Trust me, my stone soup? Is amazing. I can make a Reclaimed Tuna Casserole Surprise that will knock your socks off.

As awesome as I am, even I can't make something from literally nothing, which is kind of what I've got at the moment. I say kind of because I have a whole bunch of little pots of home-made Floating Fruit preserves, jams, and jellies, and now that I'm officially out of money, I'm looking to trade them for...anything edible that isn't floating fruit. I've had my fill, thanks.

So, anyone out there interesting in jam for say...chocolate?
Or jam for bread?
Or jam for...seriously, anything.

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[Yeeaaah, that is a little bizarre. Mike's more used to screams and stares, but this guy doesn't even flinch.

And in addition to that? Jack is pale. Really pale. Not just the kind of pale one gets when the white population of New York decides to bare their legs on the first nice spring day, but the kind of pale one sees on a bum frozen to death on a wintery bench in Central Park.

Mike's expression is somewhere between shocked and confused.]

No no, that's...that's fine. Great even.

[There's a pause because...to be honest, Mike isn't entirely sure what to next.]

Do...you want to come in?

[ The spirit either doesn't notice the hesitation or cheerfully ignored it, flashing Mike a grin. ]

Yeah, that'd be great, thanks.

[ He stepped in through the doorway accompanied by a draft of cold air and a few stray flurries that melted an instant later. ]

Should probably put these in the fridge. I kept them cold on the way over, but...

[Imagine, if you will, what a Ninja's living room looks like if one had to say...dismantle it and all its deadly traps in the span of a half hour.

Because it kind of looks just like that.
Only more so, because at the end of the day...Mike is only sixteen.

Mike watches as a stray snowflake flutters up, lands on his snout, and then melts.]

Did you...did you just make it snow in my living room.

[The fridge can wait. This whole snow thing is kind of important.]

[ WELP this might be a bad combination because Jack is curious and wants to touch all the things. But he glances around behind him when Mike asks about the snow, looking down at his feet as though expecting to see it there. ]

N-- oh. Yes, maybe a little. Sorry about that. Did it get on something important?

Naah, just my face. It's fine.

[He twitches his snout before eventually wiping the tiny drop of water away with the back of his hand.]

Can I get you something to drink? I've got water, and floating fruit juice, and...water.

[ Jack laughed sheepishly at that. ]

Well, faces can be important too. It has something to do with the temperature changing too fast coming from outside to inside, or something. [ pause ] To be honest I don't really think too much about the details.

[ He figured if Mike was that eager to get rid of the jam, he probably wasn't keen on having juice made from the same fruits around either. Jack crouches on the balls of his feet to examine something pointed with springs on the floor that was probably meant to damage body parts when it was in working order. ]

Juice would be great, yeah. So you're like an inventor or something? Doesn't really seem to match with the whole master-of-jam-making, but I kind of like the contrast.

I wouldn't touch that.

[It's the only real warning Jack gets before Mike retreats to the kitchen to get juice and a water.]

Inventor isn't the word I'd use, but sure. Let's go with that.

[ Jack obediently pulls his fingers back, though he's still looking around the room interestedly. He is always fascinated by people who have a lot of stuff since he personally. ]

So you were just struck by the sudden urge to make jam, or...?

I like to keep busy.

[Mike emerges from the kitchen with what appears to be a tea tray fully laden with jam pots, as well as two cups complete with beverages.]

Plus, you know...what with the whole being a five foot tall mutant turtle, I don't get out much.

[ Jack stands again, leaving the dismantled traps where they were originally, coming over to where Mike was, an easy grin on his face. ]

I would have put you at least at 5'2". But really, you shouldn't let that keep you inside, especially not here. There are all sorts of people here and the kedan are shapeshifters anyway.

[Mike stands up just that much more at the scrutiny.]

Four eleven and three quarters, actually. And...it's not so much the people here as it is just...habit, by this point.

Sounds like a good habit to break, if you ask me.

[ He takes a sip of the juice. ]

Is that why you almost didn't invite me over?

[ Whoops, seems like Jack noticed that hesitation over the audio feed after all. ]

[Mike, who was just taking a sip from his water, nearly spit-takes. Still, in spite of that, he looks impressed even as he wipes at his mouth with the back of his free hand.]

That obvious, huh?

[ Jack has the grace to look apologetic for the ill-timed remark as Mike was taking a drink. ]

I've had a lot of experience watching and listening to people, that's all. Sometimes people say something even when they don't say it.

Stalker, therapist, or talk show host?

[He says with a grin as he gestures for Jack to take a seat on one of the couches.]

[ welp ]

... if I said the first one was the closest to the truth, are you going to take away my jam?

[ or at least let him explain ]

That all depends on what kind of stalker you are. The socially inept kind, the creeper kind, or the actually dangerous kind.

Umm... the "I was invisible to everyone in my world so holding a regular conversation was kind of a non-starter" sort?

Woah...no kidding?

Cross my heart. I'm a spirit, it's the way things work where I'm from.

Does that mean you're dead?

[ Jack falters for a moment at the question, hand falling away from his chest where he'd playfully made an X to grasp the hooked wooden staff. ]

Ghosts and spirits aren't always the same thing.

[ Which wasn't a denial outright, but... ]

[Mike notices the falter, figures it's a touchy subject, and winces.]

Sorry, I've...never met either before.

It's all right.

[ A flash of a smile, the awkwardness swept aside. ]

But yeah, invisible. Thankfully it works differently here on the tur-- [ he paused, not sure he could say that now in present company ] -- in Keeliai.

[It's Mike's turn to smile.]

Nice save. Slick, even.

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