"I think this entire thing is going to end in disaster," Nathaniel informed Isobel with utter seriousness. "And the moment it does, I am teleporting back to Savannah
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Mike was wandering around the hotel. Because he was nosy, basically, he didn't really have a reason. Also, Sylar seemed to be holed up in his own hotel, which left Mike without anyone to randomly stalk. People just have no manners.
And then: "Gah!" Evil scary clown psycho man!!! "...by which I mean, hello."
Do not blow up Disney. Do not blow up Disney. Do not blow up Disney....
Nathaniel had decided to get some ice down the hall, which may make his Scotch last longer (bloody tiny bottles). As he left his room, he saw a familiar face in the hallway. Followed by an exclamation.
"Hello," he said carefully, in reaction to Mike's attempt at a greeting. Sinister eyed him warily. He was never very sure how he knew Mike. "Out for some ice." He showed him the bucket, resisting the urge to cackle madly and say it was to "keep a specimen fresh".
"Oh, blast, you have discovered the details of my dastardly plan!" Nathaniel put his hand on his heart and winced theatrically. "No, I am having a scotch. Would you care for one? I hear if you drink all the beverages provided, someone shall refill them for you."
He was pretty much expecting Mike to say no. The lad couldn't, actually, look at him.
"There's a bar?" Nathaniel actually smiled. "Why did I not know that? My, this is terribly good news."
He narrowed his eyes speculatively. "Are you trying to poison me? It does not work. For entertainment, Apocalypse fed me every known poison and then some from other galaxies. Also, the last time you tried to do me bodily harm, my assistant started dating the assassin you sent to shoot me. Possibly you should stop while you are ahead."
Nathaniel coughed. "However, I shall go and drink with you, if you wish."
"She totally should have shot you, it's bad form to be an assassin that can get paid off with -- oi! I'm not going to try and poison you in the middle of freaking Disney--" Which one was he at again? "Worldland. I can be polite, you know. Look, this is me, being polite. I'll pay for the drinks and all."
Huffy, Mike stormed towards the bar, which didn't work so well, because it was only six paces to the elevators and they weren't waiting.
"...that would have been more dramatic if we'd been on the right floor."
"Yes, rather, but I do appreciate the effort," Nathaniel said politely. They rode the elevator down, which was a relief only because it was carrying him away from the temptation next to him.
The bar was nice. Ornate, with a lot of glass. There were no children, but his appearance was still drawing a few stares. The young woman who came to take their orders dropped her pen every time she tried to look at him.
"Please bring me a gin and tonic. A double, if you please," Nathaniel said. He could not believe he was in a bar with a man who had tried to blow up his home.
"I am able to get very drunk, if I have adequate amounts of alcohol. My healing factor will eventually overpower any sort of intoxication. It is such an effort, I rarely do it."
Just when my girlfriend leaves me via email, apparently. Well, then. He wouldn't be doing it any time soon. He was done with women. Bloody done with the lot of them.
"And I am drinking because--" he thought about it. Someone saw him and gave a loud shout, then dropped a glass. He closed his eyes. "Why the bloody hell not?"
"Oh, yeah, you got emotions back. Whoop-de-friggin-doo."
Mike absently caught the dropped glass telekinetically, floating it back on the side, causing another yelp.
"If you wanna get drunk, you don't wanna muck around with girly drinks like that. Hey, lady! Bacaradi 151 for the scary psycho clown killer man. Absinthe if you've got it. Bring us the bottles!"
Nathaniel leaned back in his chair. "Lad, they have not served absinthe in America since nineteen-oh-nine. But I am not adverse to whatever Bacardi 141 is, however, there is nothing--girly?--about gin."
As surreal as this experience was, he probably didn't need liquor to make it stranger.
"They haven't? What's wrong with absinthe? Other than people sometimes going blind, but that's their own problem. Also, it's 'Mike'. I don't know why people have so much trouble remembering that. Well, other people. You're probably getting me mixed up with all those morlocks you had slaughtered, and the mutants in those camps of yours, like Neverland. What did Maggott even do to you, eh? You," Mike said, "are a dick. And the Bacardi is so alcoholic, they have to put 'warning, flammable' labels on the bottles. Now that's a drink!"
"Oh, do stop with the litany of my sins, Mike. You are beginning to sound like Genesis, and no one wants that." He took the shot from the waitress--who was looking utterly terrified--and slammed it down in one drink. "I shall have another, thank you. Bring one for my friend here," he said pleasantly.
If he was going to end up pissed, Mike would bloody well join him.
"Poor bastard. Tyler, not you. Bring the bottle," he called after the waitress. "Stupid Apocalypse. Stupid clones. Anyway, that barely scratched the surface of your sins, which are freaking multitude. And what do you get? A swanky SHIELD safehouse, a neat superscientist assistant -- she's cool by the way, you should let her come play mini-golf with me -- and the hot kinky girlfriend from the future. There's no justice in the world. Ooh, thanks."
He took the bottle from the waitress, poured them both shots.
"Tyler Dayspring!" His burned blue for a second, and then he knocked it back, promptly coughing. "Guhhh."
"Stupid Apocalypse," Nathaniel said, nodding wisely. He tossed back his shot and then poured them both another round. "Isobel is free to socialize with whomever she pleases. Honestly, she is dating Mystique." Nathaniel took another drink. It was very good. Better than wine, even. "And that would be ex girlfriend, I believe the word is, in the modern vernacular. Rachel did come to her senses and leave me, as everyone has no doubt been assuming she would."
Nathaniel poured another drink. He peered at it. "S'bloody good, that is." He poured Mike another round.
And then: "Gah!" Evil scary clown psycho man!!! "...by which I mean, hello."
Do not blow up Disney. Do not blow up Disney. Do not blow up Disney....
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"Hello," he said carefully, in reaction to Mike's attempt at a greeting. Sinister eyed him warily. He was never very sure how he knew Mike. "Out for some ice." He showed him the bucket, resisting the urge to cackle madly and say it was to "keep a specimen fresh".
Reply
Mike had been told this was a myth, but he didn't believe it.
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He was pretty much expecting Mike to say no. The lad couldn't, actually, look at him.
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Mike frowns. There was something wrong with that sentence. Something not quite--
Oh. He'd just invited Sinister to drink with him.
Fuck.
...do not blow up Disney. Do not blow up Disney. Do not blow up Disney.
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He narrowed his eyes speculatively. "Are you trying to poison me? It does not work. For entertainment, Apocalypse fed me every known poison and then some from other galaxies. Also, the last time you tried to do me bodily harm, my assistant started dating the assassin you sent to shoot me. Possibly you should stop while you are ahead."
Nathaniel coughed. "However, I shall go and drink with you, if you wish."
Reply
Huffy, Mike stormed towards the bar, which didn't work so well, because it was only six paces to the elevators and they weren't waiting.
"...that would have been more dramatic if we'd been on the right floor."
Reply
The bar was nice. Ornate, with a lot of glass. There were no children, but his appearance was still drawing a few stares. The young woman who came to take their orders dropped her pen every time she tried to look at him.
"Please bring me a gin and tonic. A double, if you please," Nathaniel said. He could not believe he was in a bar with a man who had tried to blow up his home.
Quite an odd place, Disney.
Reply
He eyed Sinister. "Hang on, if you're impervious to poisons, why are you drinking? Alcohol is a poison."
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Just when my girlfriend leaves me via email, apparently. Well, then. He wouldn't be doing it any time soon. He was done with women. Bloody done with the lot of them.
"And I am drinking because--" he thought about it. Someone saw him and gave a loud shout, then dropped a glass. He closed his eyes. "Why the bloody hell not?"
Reply
Mike absently caught the dropped glass telekinetically, floating it back on the side, causing another yelp.
"If you wanna get drunk, you don't wanna muck around with girly drinks like that. Hey, lady! Bacaradi 151 for the scary psycho clown killer man. Absinthe if you've got it. Bring us the bottles!"
Reply
As surreal as this experience was, he probably didn't need liquor to make it stranger.
Reply
Reply
If he was going to end up pissed, Mike would bloody well join him.
Reply
He took the bottle from the waitress, poured them both shots.
"Tyler Dayspring!" His burned blue for a second, and then he knocked it back, promptly coughing. "Guhhh."
Reply
Nathaniel poured another drink. He peered at it. "S'bloody good, that is." He poured Mike another round.
Reply
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