Fic: Cold Fusion: True North, Chapter 2
Title: Cold Fusion: True North, Chapter 2
Author: Dal Niente
Rating: M for later chapters
Word Count: 2,983
Chapter 2
As soon as she sees the driver, Roxanne's heart sinks. Of all the random, rotten luck. If she'd recognized him beforehand, she would have hailed a different taxi, but it's too late now. She's just finished wrestling her luggage into the backseat and she isn't about to drag it all back out, even if it would be wiser to wait for someone who hasn't taken her to the Lair before.
She slides in next to her suitcase and pulls the door closed after her, and the driver glances back at her in the rearview mirror, dark eyes dancing with amusement. "See you're still in one piece," he greets her. "Where to, Miss Ritchi?"
She groans. She should have him take her to her apartment so that he doesn't suspect anything, but she'll only get another cab from there and take it to the lair, and then she'll have to pay twice as much and she's spent quite enough on this trip as it is. She got some great footage in Amsterdam, more than enough to finish the piece she's been working on, but Roxanne is still four hundred dollars or so in the hole thanks to the extra pictures she picked up. A small price to pay for security - her grip on her camera bag tightens unconsciously, and she hopes that Megamind will be pleased - but still. Her job pays well, but she isn't exactly a millionaire.
"The same place as before, please," she tells him, and he shrugs.
"Abandoned warehouses it is," he announces. "Your funeral."
As they pull away from the curb, Roxanne tilts her head up next to the window and marvels again at how far along the Metro Tower rebuild is. The amount of work that the combined efforts of an ex-criminal mastermind, the city's zoning board, and a small army of solar-powered brainbots can accomplish in just over a month is really incredible. The tower is far from being finished, but without Megamind's help it wouldn't be half as far along as it is.
Megamind.
Roxanne will feel better once she's gotten the film footage to the guys at the office - she doesn't usually do documentary pieces, and it's been looming over her head for what feels like ages, and then Bernard turned up again, madder than a million hornets and with good reason to be. And Roxanne made the mistake of admitting to her brother that she had 'broken up' with Bernard, so now her mother is asking questions…Roxanne knows she's been quick and snappish lately. Hopefully she'll be able to relax a little now that she's back on solid ground with her job, at least.
Documentaries. Roxanne hates doing documentaries; they really aren't her forte. Luckily she is pretty sure that her boss picked up on that - if he hadn't, then Jo must have had a quiet word with him behind closed doors - so she shouldn't have to do any more anytime soon.
And hopefully she and Megamind will be able to go out somewhere again soon, and it'll be nice not to have to look at Bernard every time. That was harder than she expected. She hates having to look up and see a mask and know that Megamind is hiding who he is because of her...but more than that, she didn't like knowing that the real Bernard was lost somewhere.
She shakes her head and looks around for a distraction; she'll be home soon enough and she's too tired for any real introspection. There is an orange-and-white book on the passenger seat that looks promising, and she leans forward to reach it.
The cab swerves a little. "Hey, hey!" the driver exclaims. "Seat belt, lady. I will not be held accountable if we crash and you die."
"Are you saying you're a bad driver?" She looks at the book. Rules for Radicals, by Saul Alinsky. A Pragmatic Primer for Realistic Radicals.
"I'm a very good driver," he protests. "It's the other bozos out there you gotta watch out for."
Roxanne snorts, but she buckles her seat belt and settles back, flipping the book open to a dog-eared page. I remember this, she thinks. She'd had to read it back in college, for one of her political science requirements. She had been cynical about it, and written a thirty-odd page essay comparing it to Machiavelli's The Prince.
Roxanne looks up at the rearview mirror, catches the driver's eye. "Hey," she says. "Can I borrow this?"
He grimaces. "Aw geez, Miss Ritchi, I wish I could lend it to you, but it's my daughter's. She needs it for class."
Roxanne tosses it back on the seat where she found it, a little disappointed. She suspects Megamind would have enjoyed reading it.
Of course, that was if he hadn't read it already. It does seem to be the sort of thing he would have run across on his way to becoming an evil overlord, and finding books he hasn't read is difficult. Roxanne supposes she shouldn't be surprised about that, but she is - her prior encounters with him had given her the impression that he was equal amounts brilliant and insane, but not particularly cultured.
For the most part, though, Megamind seems to be enjoying his move into social acceptance, even if it does mean he can no longer call Oxford professors at all hours of the night just to harass them in Old English about their pronunciation. From what Roxanne had been able to gather, Megamind's pronunciation of Old English is more exact than it is of modern English. That one had thrown her for a loop.
But it's entirely reasonable that Megamind should have an extensive knowledge of literature, history, and politics. He is a genius, after all, by Earth standards; and according to Minion, even his genetic background tends towards the "ridiculously brilliant." Megamind's parents were the only ones of their race to figure out faster-than-light space travel in time to send their son into the void. So, yes, he is legitimately smart, but he hides it so well. He still plays up the buffoon in public, and more often than not around the Lair as well. Roxanne estimates that his true nature lies somewhere between "clown" and "pretentious academic," and she chuckles to herself. Maybe her first impression of him was the closest: equal parts brilliant and mad.
"Meter's running, Miss Ritchi."
The driver's voice startles her out of her reverie, and she jumps and looks around. The taxi is parked a block down from the Lair.
"Sorry," she gasps, and scrambles out of the car, tugging her suitcase and handbag after her.
"You need any help with those?"
"No, no, I'm fine," Roxanne assures him when he moves to get out of the taxi. She pushes some money into his hand and turns to leave.
"Here," his voice calls her back. He's leaning out his window. "You've given me too much again. Did the same thing last time. I can't accept this, Miss, it isn't right."
Roxanne shakes her head. "For your continued discretion," she tells him, and he blinks. Then he grins and taps his nose with one finger.
"Hold on," he says, and this time he does get out. He leans against the top of the car, scribbles something on a scrap of paper, then folds it in half and hands it to her. "You need discretion, Miss Ritchi, you give me a call. Any hour. Fee'll be higher, but you're not the first."
Roxanne smiles gratefully. He's not bad, she thinks, and waves as he drives away, then glances down at the paper. Akos Haskins, and a 906 phone number.
Roxanne grins, then shifts her purse to her shoulder and hurries up a block to the secret entrance. The panel is easy to find, and she thumbs the door open impatiently. Three nights abroad and then flying in last night at six PM and taking the intercity bus line north has completely messed up her sense of time. It may be nearly noon, but all Roxanne wants to do is get into the Lair and go to sleep.
No rest for the wicked, apparently. The grating, high-pitched whine of a circular saw hits her like a ton of brick as soon as she walks through the door. She closes it after her and hooks her elbow around the handle of her suitcase, then shoves her fingers in her ears. It's not a comfortable position; she has to bend almost double and hobble like Igor towards the source of the noise, but aural health takes precedence over dignity and she's too tired to think of just leaving her suitcases at the door. Megamind is in his workshop, leaning over a piece of sheet metal with a blowtorch while Minion feeds the metal through the screeching saw.
Roxanne stands back and waits; there's no way she is going closer to that shower of sparks. She has done that only once, about a week into the relationship, and Megamind had nearly bitten her head off. "Don't get me wrong," he had said once he had calmed down a little, "I don't mind you being here while I'm working. I might even ask for your help on some of the smaller projects - you're good with the brainbots and they're fairly easy to repair. But you have to wear protective gear. The stuff I work with is dangerous."
Initially, she had been startled that he had actually snapped at her, and worried about what he might be like if he ever got truly angry. But the last part had eased that worry almost entirely. Megamind rarely says what he actually feels, but Roxanne can hear "I don't want you to get hurt" loud and clear.
Their backs are to her, and she stands back and watches them work until they finish the sheet; they were already nearly done when she had come in, or she would have just gone and dropped her things off in Megamind's room. Finally the saw slows down and the fan shuts off. Megamind turns off the plasma torch and rolls his shoulders, sends a ripple down his spine, and pushes the welding mask up and away from his face.
"Good work," he says approvingly, looking at the cut metal. "I think we're getting this. The titration should be nearly done, I'll-" He turns around and his face lights up. "You're back!"
Minion waves as Megamind all but sprints towards her. Roxanne laughingly holds up her hands to try to ward him off and backs away. "I've been on a plane for nine hours and a bus for ten, I stink, don't touch me, I'm gross."
He wraps both arms around her anyway, smiling like sunrise. "Don't ca-aare," he singsongs in her ear. "Don't ca-aare, you're ba-aack…"
His heavy apron is hot from the fire and covered in metal dust and burn marks, and his protective gloves are scratchy even through Roxanne's tee-shirt, but she doesn't mind. She pulls her head to the side and presses a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. He tastes like salt and smoke, and there's a sooty smudge down the side of his face and over one eye, and he hums happily and knocks his forehead against hers.
"Okay," he says after a moment. "Maybe you smell a little funny."
She laughs and shoves him away. "You're a goofball, you know that? I want a shower and then I am going to sleep for a month."
Megamind opens his mouth to say something, but Minion interrupts by clanking over and sweeping both of them into the air in a bone-crushing hug.
I missed this, Roxanne thinks as Megamind kicks and squawks a protest, and she bursts into exhausted laughter and hugs Minion's dome. "Good to see you, Minion!"
"You too, Miss Ritchi," he says, setting her on her feet again. Megamind jumps nimbly down and straightens his apron, straight-faced and glowering, the picture of offended dignity. Minion grins, and stage-whispers, "He sulked the whole time you were gone."
Megamind spins. "Minion-!"
"Oh stop," Roxanne tells him, and reaches up and swings the welding mask back down over his face. His snort of laughter echoes out from behind it.
"I'm glad you're home," he says, lifting the mask again. "You go take your shower, I've got a precipitate to check on."
He turns and tromps off, jabbing Minion with a sharp elbow on his way past. "Lunch at twelve-thirty, Sir," Minion calls after him, and Megamind flaps a hand before disappearing around a corner.
Minion turns back to Roxanne. "I expect to see you at lunch, too, Miss Ritchi. I know you're jet-lagged but the fastest way to readjust is to try to adhere to normal sleep patterns." He takes Roxanne's suitcase and tucks it under one arm before she can tell him to leave it. "I've got it," he says when she tries to protest. "Honestly, there's no point in you dragging it all that way when it's no trouble for me."
Roxanne huffs a little, but there's no use trying to argue with Minion. "Normal sleep patterns, my eye," she mutters. "I'd like to see Megamind sleep through the night."
Minion grins. "Do you know what a Circadian rhythm is?"
Roxanne shakes her head.
"It's a roughly twenty-four hour cycle that's regulated by your body's internal systems," Minion tells her. "It's what tells you when to sleep and when to wake up. Most animals and plants have a Circadian rhythm of some kind - one kind of plant folds its leaves at night and opens them during the day. They keep to that twenty-four hour cycle even when kept in total darkness. It's why you're jet-lagged. You can re-train your body, entrain it, to a new time zone, but it takes a little while to adjust." He pauses. "It's also why Sir's sleep patterns differ from yours."
Roxanne blinks. "I'm not sure I follow. He's jet-lagged? As far as I know, he's never left the city."
"Miss Ritchi, have you forgotten what he is?"
She stares up at him, uncomprehending. He's laughing at her; his brown eyes are dancing and his toothy smile is wider than usual.
"You have," he marvels. "I told him you didn't care, but he insisted that it was too difficult to look past. Huh."
Roxanne is usually pretty good at figuring out what Minion is talking about - he's a lot easier to understand than Megamind is, at any rate, but she honestly has no idea what he means. "What?"
"He's an alien, Miss Ritchi. Our planet's cycle was shorter than yours is. He dances to a different drum."
If Roxanne were a more dramatic person, she would have facepalmed. She had forgotten. Not forgotten, rather; it was pretty hard to forget that Megamind wasn't from Earth, but it hadn't occurred to her even with Minion's prompting. "That's why he keeps such odd hours."
Minion nods. "Yep! He's partially attuned to Earth's systems, but there's no way for him to ever completely re-regulate his body's natural cycles." He sighs a little. "And his patterns are weird even by his people's standards. There aren't enough hours in the day for him to do all the things he wants to."
Roxanne smiles. She's noticed that. "So what would be a normal pattern for him?"
Minion shrugs. "I don't remember. Something like, sleep from two until six or seven, PM and AM. That's the standard, I think. But he hates wasting daylight, so he stays up through the first sleep-cycle, and then he hits what he calls the exhaustion high and he says that's just fun, so he stays awake through that…honestly? Sometimes he just passes out and sleeps for a day. He hates when that happens."
Roxanne's mind is spinning. They are standing outside the door to Megamind's room, but she doesn't want to just stop talking about this - it's interesting. "What about you?"
Minion looks taken aback. "Me?"
"Don't you have any problems with sleeping? You're an alien, too, aren't you?"
Minion shrugs again. "My people are deep-sea fish; we're built for total darkness," he says, and Roxanne remembers how he had spun and floated, dazed, after the explosion of blinding light that 'killed' Metro Man. "Besides, I'm his minion. I would tune myself to his biorhythm if he had any sort of regular pattern. Mostly I just stay awake through the danger hours, then power down when he turns his attention to…quieter pursuits." He frowns. "Speaking of which, I need to go make lunch. We can talk about this more later, if you want."
Roxanne nods, and Minion puts the suitcase down on the floor next to her. "Thanks, Minion. You're the best."
He smiles back at her as he continues down the hall. "I'm just glad you're back safe."
Roxanne is glad, too. She hasn't been gone long, and she enjoys traveling, but she missed the frantic here-there-everywhere of the Lair. She spends more of her time there than at her apartment, anymore.
She is halfway to the shower when what Minion said sinks in. Roxanne has always assumed that Megamind and Minion work so well together because they've known each other almost all their lives, but it's certainly possible that they're linked to each other on a deeper level.
She frowns a little. She really has no idea what Megamind's brain is capable of beyond intellectual pursuits. Are he and Minion 'attuned' to one another, or is it a one-way street? And if they are linked on a mental level, and the link does go both ways, is there a chance that Megamind might someday be able to read her thoughts?
It's a bit of a stretch, and probably unlikely, but something about the idea of sharing her private thoughts with someone else settles like a rock in the pit of her stomach.
Chapter 1
Top of Page
Chapter 3
Return to Master List
Author: Dal Niente
Rating: M for later chapters
Word Count: 2,983
Chapter 2
As soon as she sees the driver, Roxanne's heart sinks. Of all the random, rotten luck. If she'd recognized him beforehand, she would have hailed a different taxi, but it's too late now. She's just finished wrestling her luggage into the backseat and she isn't about to drag it all back out, even if it would be wiser to wait for someone who hasn't taken her to the Lair before.
She slides in next to her suitcase and pulls the door closed after her, and the driver glances back at her in the rearview mirror, dark eyes dancing with amusement. "See you're still in one piece," he greets her. "Where to, Miss Ritchi?"
She groans. She should have him take her to her apartment so that he doesn't suspect anything, but she'll only get another cab from there and take it to the lair, and then she'll have to pay twice as much and she's spent quite enough on this trip as it is. She got some great footage in Amsterdam, more than enough to finish the piece she's been working on, but Roxanne is still four hundred dollars or so in the hole thanks to the extra pictures she picked up. A small price to pay for security - her grip on her camera bag tightens unconsciously, and she hopes that Megamind will be pleased - but still. Her job pays well, but she isn't exactly a millionaire.
"The same place as before, please," she tells him, and he shrugs.
"Abandoned warehouses it is," he announces. "Your funeral."
As they pull away from the curb, Roxanne tilts her head up next to the window and marvels again at how far along the Metro Tower rebuild is. The amount of work that the combined efforts of an ex-criminal mastermind, the city's zoning board, and a small army of solar-powered brainbots can accomplish in just over a month is really incredible. The tower is far from being finished, but without Megamind's help it wouldn't be half as far along as it is.
Megamind.
Roxanne will feel better once she's gotten the film footage to the guys at the office - she doesn't usually do documentary pieces, and it's been looming over her head for what feels like ages, and then Bernard turned up again, madder than a million hornets and with good reason to be. And Roxanne made the mistake of admitting to her brother that she had 'broken up' with Bernard, so now her mother is asking questions…Roxanne knows she's been quick and snappish lately. Hopefully she'll be able to relax a little now that she's back on solid ground with her job, at least.
Documentaries. Roxanne hates doing documentaries; they really aren't her forte. Luckily she is pretty sure that her boss picked up on that - if he hadn't, then Jo must have had a quiet word with him behind closed doors - so she shouldn't have to do any more anytime soon.
And hopefully she and Megamind will be able to go out somewhere again soon, and it'll be nice not to have to look at Bernard every time. That was harder than she expected. She hates having to look up and see a mask and know that Megamind is hiding who he is because of her...but more than that, she didn't like knowing that the real Bernard was lost somewhere.
She shakes her head and looks around for a distraction; she'll be home soon enough and she's too tired for any real introspection. There is an orange-and-white book on the passenger seat that looks promising, and she leans forward to reach it.
The cab swerves a little. "Hey, hey!" the driver exclaims. "Seat belt, lady. I will not be held accountable if we crash and you die."
"Are you saying you're a bad driver?" She looks at the book. Rules for Radicals, by Saul Alinsky. A Pragmatic Primer for Realistic Radicals.
"I'm a very good driver," he protests. "It's the other bozos out there you gotta watch out for."
Roxanne snorts, but she buckles her seat belt and settles back, flipping the book open to a dog-eared page. I remember this, she thinks. She'd had to read it back in college, for one of her political science requirements. She had been cynical about it, and written a thirty-odd page essay comparing it to Machiavelli's The Prince.
Roxanne looks up at the rearview mirror, catches the driver's eye. "Hey," she says. "Can I borrow this?"
He grimaces. "Aw geez, Miss Ritchi, I wish I could lend it to you, but it's my daughter's. She needs it for class."
Roxanne tosses it back on the seat where she found it, a little disappointed. She suspects Megamind would have enjoyed reading it.
Of course, that was if he hadn't read it already. It does seem to be the sort of thing he would have run across on his way to becoming an evil overlord, and finding books he hasn't read is difficult. Roxanne supposes she shouldn't be surprised about that, but she is - her prior encounters with him had given her the impression that he was equal amounts brilliant and insane, but not particularly cultured.
For the most part, though, Megamind seems to be enjoying his move into social acceptance, even if it does mean he can no longer call Oxford professors at all hours of the night just to harass them in Old English about their pronunciation. From what Roxanne had been able to gather, Megamind's pronunciation of Old English is more exact than it is of modern English. That one had thrown her for a loop.
But it's entirely reasonable that Megamind should have an extensive knowledge of literature, history, and politics. He is a genius, after all, by Earth standards; and according to Minion, even his genetic background tends towards the "ridiculously brilliant." Megamind's parents were the only ones of their race to figure out faster-than-light space travel in time to send their son into the void. So, yes, he is legitimately smart, but he hides it so well. He still plays up the buffoon in public, and more often than not around the Lair as well. Roxanne estimates that his true nature lies somewhere between "clown" and "pretentious academic," and she chuckles to herself. Maybe her first impression of him was the closest: equal parts brilliant and mad.
"Meter's running, Miss Ritchi."
The driver's voice startles her out of her reverie, and she jumps and looks around. The taxi is parked a block down from the Lair.
"Sorry," she gasps, and scrambles out of the car, tugging her suitcase and handbag after her.
"You need any help with those?"
"No, no, I'm fine," Roxanne assures him when he moves to get out of the taxi. She pushes some money into his hand and turns to leave.
"Here," his voice calls her back. He's leaning out his window. "You've given me too much again. Did the same thing last time. I can't accept this, Miss, it isn't right."
Roxanne shakes her head. "For your continued discretion," she tells him, and he blinks. Then he grins and taps his nose with one finger.
"Hold on," he says, and this time he does get out. He leans against the top of the car, scribbles something on a scrap of paper, then folds it in half and hands it to her. "You need discretion, Miss Ritchi, you give me a call. Any hour. Fee'll be higher, but you're not the first."
Roxanne smiles gratefully. He's not bad, she thinks, and waves as he drives away, then glances down at the paper. Akos Haskins, and a 906 phone number.
Roxanne grins, then shifts her purse to her shoulder and hurries up a block to the secret entrance. The panel is easy to find, and she thumbs the door open impatiently. Three nights abroad and then flying in last night at six PM and taking the intercity bus line north has completely messed up her sense of time. It may be nearly noon, but all Roxanne wants to do is get into the Lair and go to sleep.
No rest for the wicked, apparently. The grating, high-pitched whine of a circular saw hits her like a ton of brick as soon as she walks through the door. She closes it after her and hooks her elbow around the handle of her suitcase, then shoves her fingers in her ears. It's not a comfortable position; she has to bend almost double and hobble like Igor towards the source of the noise, but aural health takes precedence over dignity and she's too tired to think of just leaving her suitcases at the door. Megamind is in his workshop, leaning over a piece of sheet metal with a blowtorch while Minion feeds the metal through the screeching saw.
Roxanne stands back and waits; there's no way she is going closer to that shower of sparks. She has done that only once, about a week into the relationship, and Megamind had nearly bitten her head off. "Don't get me wrong," he had said once he had calmed down a little, "I don't mind you being here while I'm working. I might even ask for your help on some of the smaller projects - you're good with the brainbots and they're fairly easy to repair. But you have to wear protective gear. The stuff I work with is dangerous."
Initially, she had been startled that he had actually snapped at her, and worried about what he might be like if he ever got truly angry. But the last part had eased that worry almost entirely. Megamind rarely says what he actually feels, but Roxanne can hear "I don't want you to get hurt" loud and clear.
Their backs are to her, and she stands back and watches them work until they finish the sheet; they were already nearly done when she had come in, or she would have just gone and dropped her things off in Megamind's room. Finally the saw slows down and the fan shuts off. Megamind turns off the plasma torch and rolls his shoulders, sends a ripple down his spine, and pushes the welding mask up and away from his face.
"Good work," he says approvingly, looking at the cut metal. "I think we're getting this. The titration should be nearly done, I'll-" He turns around and his face lights up. "You're back!"
Minion waves as Megamind all but sprints towards her. Roxanne laughingly holds up her hands to try to ward him off and backs away. "I've been on a plane for nine hours and a bus for ten, I stink, don't touch me, I'm gross."
He wraps both arms around her anyway, smiling like sunrise. "Don't ca-aare," he singsongs in her ear. "Don't ca-aare, you're ba-aack…"
His heavy apron is hot from the fire and covered in metal dust and burn marks, and his protective gloves are scratchy even through Roxanne's tee-shirt, but she doesn't mind. She pulls her head to the side and presses a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. He tastes like salt and smoke, and there's a sooty smudge down the side of his face and over one eye, and he hums happily and knocks his forehead against hers.
"Okay," he says after a moment. "Maybe you smell a little funny."
She laughs and shoves him away. "You're a goofball, you know that? I want a shower and then I am going to sleep for a month."
Megamind opens his mouth to say something, but Minion interrupts by clanking over and sweeping both of them into the air in a bone-crushing hug.
I missed this, Roxanne thinks as Megamind kicks and squawks a protest, and she bursts into exhausted laughter and hugs Minion's dome. "Good to see you, Minion!"
"You too, Miss Ritchi," he says, setting her on her feet again. Megamind jumps nimbly down and straightens his apron, straight-faced and glowering, the picture of offended dignity. Minion grins, and stage-whispers, "He sulked the whole time you were gone."
Megamind spins. "Minion-!"
"Oh stop," Roxanne tells him, and reaches up and swings the welding mask back down over his face. His snort of laughter echoes out from behind it.
"I'm glad you're home," he says, lifting the mask again. "You go take your shower, I've got a precipitate to check on."
He turns and tromps off, jabbing Minion with a sharp elbow on his way past. "Lunch at twelve-thirty, Sir," Minion calls after him, and Megamind flaps a hand before disappearing around a corner.
Minion turns back to Roxanne. "I expect to see you at lunch, too, Miss Ritchi. I know you're jet-lagged but the fastest way to readjust is to try to adhere to normal sleep patterns." He takes Roxanne's suitcase and tucks it under one arm before she can tell him to leave it. "I've got it," he says when she tries to protest. "Honestly, there's no point in you dragging it all that way when it's no trouble for me."
Roxanne huffs a little, but there's no use trying to argue with Minion. "Normal sleep patterns, my eye," she mutters. "I'd like to see Megamind sleep through the night."
Minion grins. "Do you know what a Circadian rhythm is?"
Roxanne shakes her head.
"It's a roughly twenty-four hour cycle that's regulated by your body's internal systems," Minion tells her. "It's what tells you when to sleep and when to wake up. Most animals and plants have a Circadian rhythm of some kind - one kind of plant folds its leaves at night and opens them during the day. They keep to that twenty-four hour cycle even when kept in total darkness. It's why you're jet-lagged. You can re-train your body, entrain it, to a new time zone, but it takes a little while to adjust." He pauses. "It's also why Sir's sleep patterns differ from yours."
Roxanne blinks. "I'm not sure I follow. He's jet-lagged? As far as I know, he's never left the city."
"Miss Ritchi, have you forgotten what he is?"
She stares up at him, uncomprehending. He's laughing at her; his brown eyes are dancing and his toothy smile is wider than usual.
"You have," he marvels. "I told him you didn't care, but he insisted that it was too difficult to look past. Huh."
Roxanne is usually pretty good at figuring out what Minion is talking about - he's a lot easier to understand than Megamind is, at any rate, but she honestly has no idea what he means. "What?"
"He's an alien, Miss Ritchi. Our planet's cycle was shorter than yours is. He dances to a different drum."
If Roxanne were a more dramatic person, she would have facepalmed. She had forgotten. Not forgotten, rather; it was pretty hard to forget that Megamind wasn't from Earth, but it hadn't occurred to her even with Minion's prompting. "That's why he keeps such odd hours."
Minion nods. "Yep! He's partially attuned to Earth's systems, but there's no way for him to ever completely re-regulate his body's natural cycles." He sighs a little. "And his patterns are weird even by his people's standards. There aren't enough hours in the day for him to do all the things he wants to."
Roxanne smiles. She's noticed that. "So what would be a normal pattern for him?"
Minion shrugs. "I don't remember. Something like, sleep from two until six or seven, PM and AM. That's the standard, I think. But he hates wasting daylight, so he stays up through the first sleep-cycle, and then he hits what he calls the exhaustion high and he says that's just fun, so he stays awake through that…honestly? Sometimes he just passes out and sleeps for a day. He hates when that happens."
Roxanne's mind is spinning. They are standing outside the door to Megamind's room, but she doesn't want to just stop talking about this - it's interesting. "What about you?"
Minion looks taken aback. "Me?"
"Don't you have any problems with sleeping? You're an alien, too, aren't you?"
Minion shrugs again. "My people are deep-sea fish; we're built for total darkness," he says, and Roxanne remembers how he had spun and floated, dazed, after the explosion of blinding light that 'killed' Metro Man. "Besides, I'm his minion. I would tune myself to his biorhythm if he had any sort of regular pattern. Mostly I just stay awake through the danger hours, then power down when he turns his attention to…quieter pursuits." He frowns. "Speaking of which, I need to go make lunch. We can talk about this more later, if you want."
Roxanne nods, and Minion puts the suitcase down on the floor next to her. "Thanks, Minion. You're the best."
He smiles back at her as he continues down the hall. "I'm just glad you're back safe."
Roxanne is glad, too. She hasn't been gone long, and she enjoys traveling, but she missed the frantic here-there-everywhere of the Lair. She spends more of her time there than at her apartment, anymore.
She is halfway to the shower when what Minion said sinks in. Roxanne has always assumed that Megamind and Minion work so well together because they've known each other almost all their lives, but it's certainly possible that they're linked to each other on a deeper level.
She frowns a little. She really has no idea what Megamind's brain is capable of beyond intellectual pursuits. Are he and Minion 'attuned' to one another, or is it a one-way street? And if they are linked on a mental level, and the link does go both ways, is there a chance that Megamind might someday be able to read her thoughts?
It's a bit of a stretch, and probably unlikely, but something about the idea of sharing her private thoughts with someone else settles like a rock in the pit of her stomach.
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