[RP] Kids These Days...
(New verse here! Unnamed as of now, but it's set pre-burn. Co-written with smart_alec494. Those who don't know, this is Alec from Dark Angel.)
Michael Westen sat in the back of an old beat up pick-up truck, under the shade of a large tree. His face had several days worth of scruff and he was dressed down in jeans and a t-shirt, looking worn. It was about blending in, as always. This time the blending was Peru this go around. One of their ambassadors had recently returned from the States, and fear was running that there was a mark on Suarez.
Welcome to Peru, Michael.
Suarez was doing good work for Peru, and it was benefiting the United States. The two governments were becoming better allies in it. Unfortunately, unknown to the people Michael worked for, Suarez and his people were starting to uncover bits and pieces about Manticore and their doings outside of Seattle. None of which they were too pleased with.
494 was a little bit more trouble with the blending, given the freckles, but he was the one with the best language skills, combined that with being young enough to look innocent and good enough with a gun, knife or his hands to get the job done and he was the X5 that got booted across the border. Now he was trying his hardest to blend into the local manual labor long enough to get the lay of the land.
Michael didn't have any real clues yet to follow up on, so he didn't know who might have been after Suarez. The best he could do was hang out and wait to see what he could see. Currently, Suarez was in the building across the street in a meeting.
494 dutifully trimmed the bushes that were under the windows. It allowed him to see both inside and out. He kept his head down as much as possible, wanting as few possible to see or remember his face. And there was an itch between his shoulders that felt a lot more like eyes than a leaf down his shirt.
Michael noticed everyone. Took in all the faces around the building. Watched their movements, they way they held themselves. It was about observing. About trying to see what didn't belong. 494 eventually stood and looked behind him under the guise of twisting a kink out of his back. Mike noticed and took the boys face in, but didn't make a lot of it. Not that he was dismissing him, but he wasn't overly aware either.
***
494 had just about enough of the staring. That might explain why he was suddenly out of no where leaning in the open window of the passenger door. In perfectly native language he said, "You're going to have to pay me if you keep staring."
Michael raised a brow and looked the boy over. "I'm relaxing, boy. No crime in that," he returned the language flawlessly.
494 grinned. "Nope, and grant you, you've chosen a good view, but still I don't put on shows for free, and you seem awfully interested in the view."
"What concern is that to you?"
"I don't like being stared at?"
"Just get back to work, kid. My business has nothing to do with you."
"Dunno. You're giving us the creeps." 494 didn't buy it. He smelled gun oil and American soap on the man.
"Beat it kid."
"Pervert ass." But he disappeared back to his supposed job.
***
It took a whole day to shake off the feeling that he was being watched. Being hunted even as he stalked someone else. But now 494 stood quietly in his vantage point from above and silently screwed the suppressor onto the handgun he held in the other gloved hand. One quick shot to do the job, couple of others to cause more panic and confusion and he'd leave the gun right there of the floor while he walked casually away.
Michael had been surveying the area all day. He had the points picked out that a sniper might choose, and when he finally saw movement in one, he made his move. He saw the body and dark head and snuck up behind the man, not realizing who he was just yet. He pulled his trusty SIG Sauer out and slowly cocked it as he held it to the back of the sniper's head.
"Drop it," he said evenly.
"Ah, man." The tone was more disgust than fear. "I knew you sucked."
Michael's brow rose a bit and he tilted his head. "And I thought I told you to get lost."
"Yeah, well, I've still trying to figure out why I'd listen to you." He shrugged one shoulder. "Gotta say I ain't coming up with much."
"Because right now you have two governments wanting your head, and I've got my gun to it."
"So why haven't you shot me yet?" He was curious.
"I want to know why."
That confused him. "Why what?"
"Why you want this guy dead. Did someone put you up to it?"
"Why do you care?" Of course someone had put him up to it. Why would he care or bother otherwise?
"I don't, but it might save me from putting a bullet in your skull."
"Only maybe? That's not very reassuring."
"Depends what you have to say to me," Michael shrugged.
"What do I have to say to get out of this." Fear was still clearly not his dominate emotion.
"Look, kid. I'm not a fan of killing before talking. Especially not someone your age. Just give me reason to not shoot you."
"I don't want to die?" But he was coiling to move if he had to. This guy might clip him, but he wasn't fast enough to nail him in the head.
Michael sighed and took a single step back. "Turn around." Sure why not? They both knew what the other looked like. He turned, expression miffed. "Who sent you?"
"You tell me and I'll tell you?"
"You're a real pain in the ass, kid, you know that? Now my job is to take out the sniper before he takes out the ambassador. If you'd rather I carry out my job...I can."
"Well, no I'd really rather you didn't. All things considered. My job is to take out the ambassador and anyone who tries to stop me. Inconvenient, isn't it?"
"Sounds like we either need an old western draw or we'll just stand here threatening each other all day," Michael said dryly.
"Maybe something a little more fair like chess?" Because he'd win the draw, hands down.
Mike sighed. "Or I'll just turn you over to the US government." His gun was still aimed at the boy. "Let's go. Hands over your head."
494 had been holding his hands out away from his body in a 'safe' position. They suddenly dropped. "Wait. What?"
"For some reason I don't want to kill you. You're not leaving me with much, so maybe a couple days of questioning will do you some good."
"Wait, wait, back up the convoy. US government?"
"Who the hell do you think I am? Vigilante?"
"No. But I am kinda wondering which one of us is being screwed with."
"What do you mean?" Mike's head tilted.
"Well, if you're US government, and I'm US government, then one of us if getting fucked."
Mike's eyes narrowed in confusion. "You're what?"
"Did I stutter?" He was a bit less than amused himself.
Yeah, Mike really wasn't in the mood for sarcasm. "What branch are you with?"
He shrugged. "That varies a lot. You?"
"I'm not so tied down to anyone. Freelancer, if you will." He thought for a moment, then against his better judgment, "Can we both be civilized if I put this gun away?"
"Hey, I thought I was, but sure. We both put down the guns?" He could work with that. It gave him a clear advantage if he needed it. But he didn't want to have to need it.
Michael nodded and slid his gun away. "Just making sure we're on the same page," he stated. He pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head to get a better look at the kid. "So...I'm confused."
"Me too. Maybe we should be sure we're confused about the same topic?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Okay. You were sent to kill him, I was sent to kill you...presumably by the same people. My call came through D.C. Yours?"
He shrugged. "Dunno. Channels or something. And here's an important question. You were sent to stop me from killing this dude, or were you sent to kill me? Personally I find that to be an important distinction."
This got a little smile from Mike. "To stop you, but I was told to shoot if necessary. Do you know why they want him dead?"
"Nope." And clearly he didn't care either.
Mike sighed again. This was getting them nowhere. "Do you have a contact?"
He snorted. "No." The real implication there being that there was no one to bail him out. If he had a problem he had to fix it.
"Not a soul I can talk to?" Not that he didn't believe him, but...well...no telling.
"Nope. That's how it's done, dude. You should know that." No contact meant no one could get dragged down with you.
"I have a contact. I'm starting to think your side is hidden in the ranks of our government a little firmer than mine. One second." He walked off and pulled out his cell phone, dialing a number, but he kept his eyes on the kid. He didn't want him killing the guy before he had some answers. He had a quiet and hushed phone call with his contact and hung up, before walking back over to him. "Suarez is going to be here all day, give me another twenty minutes for my guy to call me back, okay?"
He shrugged again. "Sure, why not." He leaned back against the wall and waited. He didn't think it was wise to confirm or deny anything about who ran his life. Michael nodded and stood there with crossed arms, waiting for his phone to ring. "I'd like to point out that I made you earlier. At least partly." He smirked.
MIchael gave the kid a long stare. "Good for you." 494 shrugged.
Mike said nothing until his phone rang. He held it to his ear. "Yes?...yes. Who?...right..." He let out a long sigh, then shook his head. "No way. Do you know what you're-yes. Right." He hung up, his eyes narrowed. "Lucky day, kid. I've been called off. My contact won't tell me why, but I'm guessing it comes from pretty high up." He shook his head, securing his gun in its holster. "I hope you know what you're doing."
494 rolled his eyes a little at how confident Mike seemed to be in assuming he's win any scuffle between them, but didn't say anything about it. "I always know what I'm doing, dude. It's a skill."
Of course Michael was confident. He thought this was a young guy the government brought in to do their dirty work, not a genetically enhanced young guy the government brought in to do their dirty work. "Sure it is. All the same, be careful." He watched the boy for a moment, then turned for the door.
He waited until he was sure the other man had enough time to make it out of the building before turning and setting up his shot again.
***
Michael was ready to get far from the scene. The last thing he needed was to be seen around there for something he couldn't stop. He ducked into the car he had been using and got ready to drive off. Then he stopped. He glanced up at the building where the boy was and sighed deeply. He couldn't just leave the kid there.
He circled the car around the block and waited by the back of the building where he predicted the boy would come out.
And he was mostly right. Only off by a couple of stories. 494 came out threw the fourth story window and dropped to land on a flag pole which he used as a spring board to make it to the tree several yards away from the building. Well away from where anyone in there right mind would think of it as an escape route. From there it was an easy climb down.
Michael leaned over to look out the windshield and watch this. He was impressed with the moves. Very impressed. He inched the car closer to where the boy was climbing down and leaned out his window. "Get in."
494 shrugged and hopped in. "They tell you to hang around for me?"
"No, they said get the hell out of town. I figured I could delay it a couple minutes. You need anything? Otherwise we're gone."
"Gone is good."
Mike gave a nod and navigated the roads carefully but quickly, getting them out of the sudden commotion and on the highway north. Once they were cruising safely, he stuck a hand out. "Michael Westen."
494 shook it. "Nice to meet you." He seemed pretty sincere about it but he didn't offer a name in return.
Michael placed his hands back on the wheel and glanced at him. "No name?"
494 shrugged. "Nope. You can make one up is you want." He wasn't even being a smart ass.
Mike smirked. "You know, you remind me of my little brother, Nate." He shook his head and tried to think for a moment. "I'm not gonna confuse myself by calling you that, so let's go with Ethan. It's close."
"That works." He knew it wouldn't last. Once he got back to base any name he may have picked up would be stripped away, just like it always was. "Should I take that as a compliment or an insult?" He honestly wasn't sure.
"Nate's a pain in the ass, likes to get into trouble, and as much as I regret it sometimes- I always help him out." Michael shrugged. "Take it for what you want."
He pouts, actually acting his age which is very definitely teenager. "I wasn't in trouble."
"Never said you were. All the same, I probably would have been better off taking off when I was supposed to. No offense to you."
"None taken." He quiet for a minute. "So why didn't you?"
"I don't know," Mike said simply.
494 had no idea what to do with that statement. "Huh."
Mike drove quietly for awhile, not wanting to make any stops until they were far, far out of town. He finally did stop at a gas station for a fill up and food. Getting back in the car, he tossed a bag of food Ethan's way. "So where am I dropping you once we cross the border?"
494 was busy examining the bag of chips. Particularly the ingredients list. "What?"
He pulled back onto the highway and glanced over again. "Do you have someplace to go?"
He wrinkled his nose. "Just back to base. Dude, what is this stuff?"
Michael frowned. "It's the best food we've got right now. You don't have to eat it. And where's base?"
"Norther US." He opened the bag and sniffed cautiously.
"Norther? Something more specific might help in me dropping you off."
He shook his head and licked a chip. "Not supposed to tell anyone where base is. You understand."
Mike sighed. He wasn't too concerned with actually knowing. "I'm trying to figure out where I can drop you." He glanced over at Ethan. "Care to suggest something?"
"Anywhere really. I'll make it home." He shrugged, not quite sure what to do with this man.
"I have to make a stop in Miami. That good enough for you?"
"I've never been to Miami. It might be fun." He bit down on a chip.
"Sure, if you like booze, pretty girls, and sunshine." Michael smirked.
He shrugged. "I like new places." Yes he was odd.
"If it's new you like, then you might enjoy Miami. Personally, I think it's the last place I like being." Miami being chock full of all those bad memories. And a shotgun toting mother.
"Why don't you like it?"
"Grew up there," he said simply with a shrug. Because clearly that explained it all in his eyes.
There's a long pause. "That sort of makes sense to me."
Michael looked over at him a moment before returning his eyes to the road. "We all have pasts I suppose."
"Yes, but I don't know that everyone minds it."
He shrugged. "Maybe not."
". . .would you prefer that I just shut up?"
"What? No, you're fine. Can't say I have much to contribute about childhood introspection."
"Neither do I. I'm totally guessing here."
Michael nodded and sighed. He held up a case of CDs. "You pick the music or you pick the conversation," he said with a friendly smirk.
Michael Westen sat in the back of an old beat up pick-up truck, under the shade of a large tree. His face had several days worth of scruff and he was dressed down in jeans and a t-shirt, looking worn. It was about blending in, as always. This time the blending was Peru this go around. One of their ambassadors had recently returned from the States, and fear was running that there was a mark on Suarez.
Welcome to Peru, Michael.
Suarez was doing good work for Peru, and it was benefiting the United States. The two governments were becoming better allies in it. Unfortunately, unknown to the people Michael worked for, Suarez and his people were starting to uncover bits and pieces about Manticore and their doings outside of Seattle. None of which they were too pleased with.
494 was a little bit more trouble with the blending, given the freckles, but he was the one with the best language skills, combined that with being young enough to look innocent and good enough with a gun, knife or his hands to get the job done and he was the X5 that got booted across the border. Now he was trying his hardest to blend into the local manual labor long enough to get the lay of the land.
Michael didn't have any real clues yet to follow up on, so he didn't know who might have been after Suarez. The best he could do was hang out and wait to see what he could see. Currently, Suarez was in the building across the street in a meeting.
494 dutifully trimmed the bushes that were under the windows. It allowed him to see both inside and out. He kept his head down as much as possible, wanting as few possible to see or remember his face. And there was an itch between his shoulders that felt a lot more like eyes than a leaf down his shirt.
Michael noticed everyone. Took in all the faces around the building. Watched their movements, they way they held themselves. It was about observing. About trying to see what didn't belong. 494 eventually stood and looked behind him under the guise of twisting a kink out of his back. Mike noticed and took the boys face in, but didn't make a lot of it. Not that he was dismissing him, but he wasn't overly aware either.
***
494 had just about enough of the staring. That might explain why he was suddenly out of no where leaning in the open window of the passenger door. In perfectly native language he said, "You're going to have to pay me if you keep staring."
Michael raised a brow and looked the boy over. "I'm relaxing, boy. No crime in that," he returned the language flawlessly.
494 grinned. "Nope, and grant you, you've chosen a good view, but still I don't put on shows for free, and you seem awfully interested in the view."
"What concern is that to you?"
"I don't like being stared at?"
"Just get back to work, kid. My business has nothing to do with you."
"Dunno. You're giving us the creeps." 494 didn't buy it. He smelled gun oil and American soap on the man.
"Beat it kid."
"Pervert ass." But he disappeared back to his supposed job.
***
It took a whole day to shake off the feeling that he was being watched. Being hunted even as he stalked someone else. But now 494 stood quietly in his vantage point from above and silently screwed the suppressor onto the handgun he held in the other gloved hand. One quick shot to do the job, couple of others to cause more panic and confusion and he'd leave the gun right there of the floor while he walked casually away.
Michael had been surveying the area all day. He had the points picked out that a sniper might choose, and when he finally saw movement in one, he made his move. He saw the body and dark head and snuck up behind the man, not realizing who he was just yet. He pulled his trusty SIG Sauer out and slowly cocked it as he held it to the back of the sniper's head.
"Drop it," he said evenly.
"Ah, man." The tone was more disgust than fear. "I knew you sucked."
Michael's brow rose a bit and he tilted his head. "And I thought I told you to get lost."
"Yeah, well, I've still trying to figure out why I'd listen to you." He shrugged one shoulder. "Gotta say I ain't coming up with much."
"Because right now you have two governments wanting your head, and I've got my gun to it."
"So why haven't you shot me yet?" He was curious.
"I want to know why."
That confused him. "Why what?"
"Why you want this guy dead. Did someone put you up to it?"
"Why do you care?" Of course someone had put him up to it. Why would he care or bother otherwise?
"I don't, but it might save me from putting a bullet in your skull."
"Only maybe? That's not very reassuring."
"Depends what you have to say to me," Michael shrugged.
"What do I have to say to get out of this." Fear was still clearly not his dominate emotion.
"Look, kid. I'm not a fan of killing before talking. Especially not someone your age. Just give me reason to not shoot you."
"I don't want to die?" But he was coiling to move if he had to. This guy might clip him, but he wasn't fast enough to nail him in the head.
Michael sighed and took a single step back. "Turn around." Sure why not? They both knew what the other looked like. He turned, expression miffed. "Who sent you?"
"You tell me and I'll tell you?"
"You're a real pain in the ass, kid, you know that? Now my job is to take out the sniper before he takes out the ambassador. If you'd rather I carry out my job...I can."
"Well, no I'd really rather you didn't. All things considered. My job is to take out the ambassador and anyone who tries to stop me. Inconvenient, isn't it?"
"Sounds like we either need an old western draw or we'll just stand here threatening each other all day," Michael said dryly.
"Maybe something a little more fair like chess?" Because he'd win the draw, hands down.
Mike sighed. "Or I'll just turn you over to the US government." His gun was still aimed at the boy. "Let's go. Hands over your head."
494 had been holding his hands out away from his body in a 'safe' position. They suddenly dropped. "Wait. What?"
"For some reason I don't want to kill you. You're not leaving me with much, so maybe a couple days of questioning will do you some good."
"Wait, wait, back up the convoy. US government?"
"Who the hell do you think I am? Vigilante?"
"No. But I am kinda wondering which one of us is being screwed with."
"What do you mean?" Mike's head tilted.
"Well, if you're US government, and I'm US government, then one of us if getting fucked."
Mike's eyes narrowed in confusion. "You're what?"
"Did I stutter?" He was a bit less than amused himself.
Yeah, Mike really wasn't in the mood for sarcasm. "What branch are you with?"
He shrugged. "That varies a lot. You?"
"I'm not so tied down to anyone. Freelancer, if you will." He thought for a moment, then against his better judgment, "Can we both be civilized if I put this gun away?"
"Hey, I thought I was, but sure. We both put down the guns?" He could work with that. It gave him a clear advantage if he needed it. But he didn't want to have to need it.
Michael nodded and slid his gun away. "Just making sure we're on the same page," he stated. He pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head to get a better look at the kid. "So...I'm confused."
"Me too. Maybe we should be sure we're confused about the same topic?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Okay. You were sent to kill him, I was sent to kill you...presumably by the same people. My call came through D.C. Yours?"
He shrugged. "Dunno. Channels or something. And here's an important question. You were sent to stop me from killing this dude, or were you sent to kill me? Personally I find that to be an important distinction."
This got a little smile from Mike. "To stop you, but I was told to shoot if necessary. Do you know why they want him dead?"
"Nope." And clearly he didn't care either.
Mike sighed again. This was getting them nowhere. "Do you have a contact?"
He snorted. "No." The real implication there being that there was no one to bail him out. If he had a problem he had to fix it.
"Not a soul I can talk to?" Not that he didn't believe him, but...well...no telling.
"Nope. That's how it's done, dude. You should know that." No contact meant no one could get dragged down with you.
"I have a contact. I'm starting to think your side is hidden in the ranks of our government a little firmer than mine. One second." He walked off and pulled out his cell phone, dialing a number, but he kept his eyes on the kid. He didn't want him killing the guy before he had some answers. He had a quiet and hushed phone call with his contact and hung up, before walking back over to him. "Suarez is going to be here all day, give me another twenty minutes for my guy to call me back, okay?"
He shrugged again. "Sure, why not." He leaned back against the wall and waited. He didn't think it was wise to confirm or deny anything about who ran his life. Michael nodded and stood there with crossed arms, waiting for his phone to ring. "I'd like to point out that I made you earlier. At least partly." He smirked.
MIchael gave the kid a long stare. "Good for you." 494 shrugged.
Mike said nothing until his phone rang. He held it to his ear. "Yes?...yes. Who?...right..." He let out a long sigh, then shook his head. "No way. Do you know what you're-yes. Right." He hung up, his eyes narrowed. "Lucky day, kid. I've been called off. My contact won't tell me why, but I'm guessing it comes from pretty high up." He shook his head, securing his gun in its holster. "I hope you know what you're doing."
494 rolled his eyes a little at how confident Mike seemed to be in assuming he's win any scuffle between them, but didn't say anything about it. "I always know what I'm doing, dude. It's a skill."
Of course Michael was confident. He thought this was a young guy the government brought in to do their dirty work, not a genetically enhanced young guy the government brought in to do their dirty work. "Sure it is. All the same, be careful." He watched the boy for a moment, then turned for the door.
He waited until he was sure the other man had enough time to make it out of the building before turning and setting up his shot again.
***
Michael was ready to get far from the scene. The last thing he needed was to be seen around there for something he couldn't stop. He ducked into the car he had been using and got ready to drive off. Then he stopped. He glanced up at the building where the boy was and sighed deeply. He couldn't just leave the kid there.
He circled the car around the block and waited by the back of the building where he predicted the boy would come out.
And he was mostly right. Only off by a couple of stories. 494 came out threw the fourth story window and dropped to land on a flag pole which he used as a spring board to make it to the tree several yards away from the building. Well away from where anyone in there right mind would think of it as an escape route. From there it was an easy climb down.
Michael leaned over to look out the windshield and watch this. He was impressed with the moves. Very impressed. He inched the car closer to where the boy was climbing down and leaned out his window. "Get in."
494 shrugged and hopped in. "They tell you to hang around for me?"
"No, they said get the hell out of town. I figured I could delay it a couple minutes. You need anything? Otherwise we're gone."
"Gone is good."
Mike gave a nod and navigated the roads carefully but quickly, getting them out of the sudden commotion and on the highway north. Once they were cruising safely, he stuck a hand out. "Michael Westen."
494 shook it. "Nice to meet you." He seemed pretty sincere about it but he didn't offer a name in return.
Michael placed his hands back on the wheel and glanced at him. "No name?"
494 shrugged. "Nope. You can make one up is you want." He wasn't even being a smart ass.
Mike smirked. "You know, you remind me of my little brother, Nate." He shook his head and tried to think for a moment. "I'm not gonna confuse myself by calling you that, so let's go with Ethan. It's close."
"That works." He knew it wouldn't last. Once he got back to base any name he may have picked up would be stripped away, just like it always was. "Should I take that as a compliment or an insult?" He honestly wasn't sure.
"Nate's a pain in the ass, likes to get into trouble, and as much as I regret it sometimes- I always help him out." Michael shrugged. "Take it for what you want."
He pouts, actually acting his age which is very definitely teenager. "I wasn't in trouble."
"Never said you were. All the same, I probably would have been better off taking off when I was supposed to. No offense to you."
"None taken." He quiet for a minute. "So why didn't you?"
"I don't know," Mike said simply.
494 had no idea what to do with that statement. "Huh."
Mike drove quietly for awhile, not wanting to make any stops until they were far, far out of town. He finally did stop at a gas station for a fill up and food. Getting back in the car, he tossed a bag of food Ethan's way. "So where am I dropping you once we cross the border?"
494 was busy examining the bag of chips. Particularly the ingredients list. "What?"
He pulled back onto the highway and glanced over again. "Do you have someplace to go?"
He wrinkled his nose. "Just back to base. Dude, what is this stuff?"
Michael frowned. "It's the best food we've got right now. You don't have to eat it. And where's base?"
"Norther US." He opened the bag and sniffed cautiously.
"Norther? Something more specific might help in me dropping you off."
He shook his head and licked a chip. "Not supposed to tell anyone where base is. You understand."
Mike sighed. He wasn't too concerned with actually knowing. "I'm trying to figure out where I can drop you." He glanced over at Ethan. "Care to suggest something?"
"Anywhere really. I'll make it home." He shrugged, not quite sure what to do with this man.
"I have to make a stop in Miami. That good enough for you?"
"I've never been to Miami. It might be fun." He bit down on a chip.
"Sure, if you like booze, pretty girls, and sunshine." Michael smirked.
He shrugged. "I like new places." Yes he was odd.
"If it's new you like, then you might enjoy Miami. Personally, I think it's the last place I like being." Miami being chock full of all those bad memories. And a shotgun toting mother.
"Why don't you like it?"
"Grew up there," he said simply with a shrug. Because clearly that explained it all in his eyes.
There's a long pause. "That sort of makes sense to me."
Michael looked over at him a moment before returning his eyes to the road. "We all have pasts I suppose."
"Yes, but I don't know that everyone minds it."
He shrugged. "Maybe not."
". . .would you prefer that I just shut up?"
"What? No, you're fine. Can't say I have much to contribute about childhood introspection."
"Neither do I. I'm totally guessing here."
Michael nodded and sighed. He held up a case of CDs. "You pick the music or you pick the conversation," he said with a friendly smirk.