newroutines | No Thanks Mansion on Phoenix Way, Thursday

No Thanks Mansion on Phoenix Way, Thursday

"-- Well, uh, see, my wares take more time to make so Black Friday sales aren't really my --"

The holidays weren't Mike's favorite time of year. Not by a long shot. He had a tendency to hermit it up, or to go far away and make life choices of dubious level of smarts. So you'd think he would've been thankful (no pun intended) for this distraction.

But he wasn't.

Maybe it had to do with the demanding voice at the other end of the line. "Look, Mrs. Woodward," he said, just barely keeping from snapping, "I'm sorry but there's not going to be a sale. And shouldn't you be too busy today to be trying to haggle with me about tomorrow's prices anyway? So, happy Thanksgiving. I have to go now."

When he hung up, he turned his phone all the way off on impulse. Today was going to be a beer and Netflix kind of day, he was pretty sure of it now.

[ooc: Idk. But open, sure.]

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Brooke had spent part of her day also having bad conversations on the phone, though hers at least fit the genre typical of family Thanksgivings.

She'd tried texting Mike a couple times afterwards, then when she didn't get a response she decided to head over there with a grocery bag just in case he was around. And if not, well, maybe she could bribe the squirrels to not report on her looking awkward in that case.

Anyway, knock knock.

Mike wasn't too sure he wanted to... interact with people, today. And he was pretty sure a knock on his door would mean interacting with people. Or at least a person. So he considered ignoring it.

But then he remembered he wasn't that much of an asshole. So he managed to peel himself off the couch and trudge all the way to the front door. "Oh, hey, Brooke."

He tried for a smile. It was about halfway successful. Give him a minute, he'd get there.

"Okay, you look like you're having a similar day, so it's a good thing I brought pie and ice cream," Brooke greeted him.

It was a good greeting.

The laugh-like huff that Mike let out was as dry as it was surprised, but at least it happened. He stepped back, gesturing her inside. "Fuck, come on in. You had me at 'pie'."

"It's storebought, which is good, because you do not want to see me attempt making one," Brooke said, a little proudly, as she stepped inside. "Hi."

"Yeah well all I had here before you showed up was beer, so..." Mike replied as he closed the door, shrugging as he trailed off. "Even bad pie would be better than no pie, right?"

Which incidentally did not apply with cakes, if you asked him.

But he wasn't thinking about cakes right now. "Hi." She got a kiss on the cheek, in greeting.

"So do you want to tell me what's up now, or while eating pie?" Brooke asked lightly.

Mike's sigh was supposed to be theatrical and joking. Mostly, it hit its mark, but there was still something else there.

"How 'bout I stuff my face and tell you nothing's up?" he said, trying to usher her in the general dorection of the kitchen

"I mean, you could," Brooke said, heading into the kitchen and setting everything on the counter, "but then not knowing is going to bug me, so it's way easier to say it."

"What's up is this house's sorry lack of beverages that aren't beer," Mike quipped as he went to get a couple of plates from a cupboard, "and for that, I am truly sorry."

It really wasn't going to be that easy. Sorry, Brooke.

Well, she had to find a flaw sometime.

She sighed and said, "First, I know you can do better than that when it comes to glossing over stuff. Second, fine, then you get to hear me bitch about my day."

She was not done with him, though.

Yeah, he figured she wasn't done, but she couldn't fault him for trying, could she? "Oh, I am like a gold star listener of bitching," he assured her. "Tell me all about your day."

In his defence, he was genuinely interested. On top of avoiding his own shit.

"I," she said, taking the food out of the bags, "got to spend two hours listening to my mother complain about every decision I have ever made- that she knows about- and I couldn't hang up- more than once- because she helps run my business, and I had things I needed to go over. Like she was holding information hostage on me."

Mike got some spoons out. And also raised his eyebrows. "Two hours?" he asked. "Who can even stay on the phone that long, for anything? That's some commitment to an info hostage situation, from your mom."

Who sounded lovely, by the way.

"Usually they're shorter conversations, but it's the holidays, and I've made a lot of mistakes to go over," she explained. "It's like some insane ninja mental gymnastics... maze thing with her."

"Well at least she's keeping your mind nice and toned," he offered, but not without sympathy. Oh no, there was a ton of that in the wryness. "Still, that's –-"

He shook his head, then looked down, looking for something to cut the pie with. "That's just bullshit. She shouldn't do that to you."

"Thanks. I know." Though she was also realizing how long it had been since she'd heard that from someone. "Anyway, I now live a few hours away and don't have to see her all the time, so there's that."

"And, here in the land of few hours away, the only kind of gymnastics you're expected to do are just physical," Mike quipped. The implied dirty was somewhat undercut by the gentle nudge he gave her shoulder with his.

"And even those aren't mandatory," he added. "You can do whatever the fuck you want."

"Everything you just said is why I'm really glad I'm here," Brooke said with a smile.

Mike smiled back at her.

Though he was still going to make a joke. "And here I thought it was just because this place is weird as hell and therefore at least a good distraction. You know, from personal bullshit."

"Oh, yeah, until the weirdness brings up all the personal bullshit worse," Brooke said. "I know how this works."

Mike heaved a sigh that was only half theatrics.

"Yeeeah, there is that." He nudged a plate her way, finally getting to cutting himself a slice of the pie. "Did you see folks were kids again, this past weekend?"

"Yep. Though I barely know anyone here so it wasn't as fun for me as it could have been," she said. "You didn't turn into a kid, did you?"

"Oh no," he said, shaking his head. "I've done that before, once. That was enough for me, I'd rather just, y'know... babysit half the island or something like that."

Although he was also glad he didn't even have to do that this time around.

"Please tell me you've babysat half the island." It sounded adorable.

Mike made a gesture of 'enh' with one hand. "I've babysat a tiny werewolf, that's kinda like babysitting half the island?"

Although he'd had teen Stiles around too, so it hadn't been all on him.

"...The werewolf wasn't a puppy, was he?"

Important question.

Mike chuckled despite himself. "Nah, he was just a kid," he said. "His dog was a puppy, though. But I'm not convinced that dog's ever actually reached adulthood. Dogs aren't supposed to be that small."

"I'm going to put this out there: if this ever happens again, and you don't invite me over, you're not getting any for at least a week," Brooke said.

Mike could not help laughing. "Really, meeting a tiny werewolf and his tiny lapdog means that much to you? Don't worry, I'm definitely making a note of remembering that."

He handed her a plate with pie.

And raised his eyebrows. "At least a week, seriusly? For that?"

"That's how serious I am," she said, not at all serious, taking the plate. "Keep it in mind."

Mike nodded very solemnly.

It was somewhat undercut by his decision to shove a spoonful of pie in his mouth halfway through, but still!

"Definitely keeping that in mind. Good thing I like assertiveness in a woman."

Just ask Rome.

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No Thanks Mansion on Phoenix Way, Thursday

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