9137/Reach Out And Touch Someone

Reach Out And Touch Someone
Date of Scene:	17 December 2021
Location:	Wade Shaw's Condo
Synopsis:	Mike has phone problems. Terry comes by to share cookies
Cast of Characters:	Michael Hannigan, Terry O'Neil

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Michael Hannigan has posed:
As evening sets in New York, many folks have started to settle into their respective homes. Or gone out panick buying because of some events involving presents. Mike is part of the former group.

There aren't any decorations inside the condo. There's enough stuff in there as is without having to cram a slowly dying piece of greenery inside. But what it lacks for in the visual is made up for with the smells.

No, there is no Christmas baking going on. But, the slow cooker is once again being used and the scent of pork and bbq sauce reigns in the kingdom of WadenDrago. Yay food. Mike's seated on the sofa, headphones on as he stares at the ceiling.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
<<Hey M. You home?>> comes the text from Terry. <<Do you mind a drop-by? I've got foodstuffs. Mom overbaked again.>>

A photo follows. Several trays of cookies.

<<I can't bring these to the Tower or a turf war will break out between Gar and the speedsters, and that's how you get an apocalypse.>>

Selfie of Terry giving Serious Face.

<<Do you want an apocalypse?>>

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Headphones on, it's understandable if Mike were to miss the tones indicating such a message were sent. But the lighting up of the screen to the side of his vision does cause for him to turn his head. The headphones are slid off, exposing the sound of someone speaking in Italian followed by a voice speaking in English. Lazily reaching his hand over, he gets the phone by the time of the last message. Looking to the smashed blur just displaying light but not the actual message, Mike sighs, looking to the mail icon just teasing him. Just some more spam messages.

Giving a grumble, he sets the phone back down and pulls the headphones back on. stares back at the ceiling, listening to the calm voices. "...Vorrei un hamburger e patatine fritte per favore." He repeats.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Terry frowns, looking at his phone. Then he remembers.

"Oh, right. He has an embarrassment."

That's what Terry calls Mike's phone. Major music star, and all he carries around is basically a can with a string attached to it.

The strong urge for mischief is there, and after deliberating for a few moments, the Cheshire cat grins.

The Rabbit Hole opens- discreetly, a small enough hole that he can crawl out of, behind the kitchen island. This is so that he can assess the situation- whether Mike was home or not. The litany of Italian confirms it, and the Cheshire cat's grin grows.

Invisibility time.

Walking on tiptoe like only a cat can, he makes his way towards Mike, and when he judges the moment is opportune, he creates a gentle illusion- a slight shimmering in the air of a lovely vision: a woman in gold and white, with flowing golden hair, a heavenly light emanating from her face, and a melancholic, but stern, expression.



"I am the ghost of cell phones past! Michael, I am here to visit you with spirits three to get you to embrace the spirit of the season and buy yourself a phone that will not socially embarrass your friends when you pull it out!"

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Not only is Mike's phone an embarassment, him as a Mystic is also apparently an embarassment. In a world where it appears everyone has a magic sense, his is for the most part set on silence mode. As for the reason why? Well, the guy who could explain that never stuck around to explain so.. who the heck knows?

So sneak sneak sneakity sneak Terry does from his hiding place in the kitchen nook and he would have gotten away with it too if it wasn't for that meddling ghost of cellphones past!

Eyes widening as someone he wasn't expecting to visit just pops in above him, the musician ends up pressing his feet against the cushion and launching himself from the sofa. He thumps on the floor tugging the headphones back in time to hear the punchline.

"GODDAMMIT TERRY!"

Mike doesn't have much luck with ghosts.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Terry becomes visible and gives a hearty laugh, leaning on the nearest piece of furniture. "Oh my god you should have seen your face!" the Cheshire cackles, wiping a tear from his eyes and taking a deep breath, which is interrupted by another irruption of laughter.

"You had this coming! Just because you personally rented a phone from Alexander Graham Bell, it doesn't mean you need to actually /use/ it!"

Michael Hannigan has posed:
As Terry reveals his location, Mike shoots him a cross look. "Very funny. Ha. Ha." Judging from the tone and spacings of the 'Ha's, the sincerity is in question.

He pushes himself up off the floor just to flop back down on to the sofa now that the ghost has vanished. "So what brings you here? I thought you swore this place off since that misunderstanding with Wade."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"Well... Wade's not here, right?" he asks, quickly looking around just in case Wade decides to pull off his own ghostly appearing act. A few seconds of silence, and then he whirls around to face Mike again.

"Well, mom overbaked again, and I thought you might enjoy getting stuffed with sugar. I said something absolutely hilarious in my text which, of course, you can't see because you are borrowing Ashurbanipal's phone and can't read texts that aren't in cuneiform format."

Michael Hannigan has posed:
"Nah, he's working late again." Mike replies, tilting his head to watch Terry do his quasi investigation of the condo. "Have you considered the reason why I don't get a phone that can show text messages is because I might prefer to hear your voice instead? You know. Musician. Sounds. Kind of go together."

Mike gives a slight smile to Terry, before he goes back to the topic of cookies, "Well, I could take a few cookies but I'm not going to handle a lot of them on my own. But, maybe if we shared them at the studio? How many are we talking about?"

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"Pfff, you're sounding like an old person!" Terry jokes, and flops himself onto the couch- but onto Mike's lap deliberately. His purpose is clear a moment later.

"How many? How many /can/ you share?" A rabbit hole opens up and at least four trays drop onto his extended arms, neatly stacked, the smell of freshly-baked cookies coming with them. He holds them under Mike's noise, the better to smell them with.

"Gingerbread. Coconut. Chocolate. Stained Glass. And orange lemon zest! Behold the magnificence, the power and the glory of the O'Neil oven!"

Michael Hannigan has posed:
As the added weight of the Terry adorns Mike's lap, the musician makes no effort to move the Titan. An arm wedged between Mike's leg and Terry's bottom pulls out, and instead is moved to rest on the back of the sofa. The side of his lip twitches up a bit more in amusement. "Well now that you're here, you can tell me the funny things you texted."

The amount of cookies produced does get an impressed look from the musician. He might eat a couple but he certainly is not going to eat all of those. He's not crazy after all. No matter ho much Terry may try otherwise with putting the tempting treats where he can smell them.

He chuckles, starting to feel a bit of a silly mood coming on, "Ok. I must agree, the powers of the O'Neil oven is impressive indeed. As for the riches produced, we could probably put them in the break room area of the studio so the guests could graze. Free food amongst musicians, particularly the newer ones? They'll be gone by the end of day."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
A zap of chaos magic, and the trays fly out of Terry's hansd, floating gently towards the island, arranging themselves in a tasteful display. "Well, in that case, we can get them all packed and ready for the studio. Musicians are always looking for a free meal- this is a truth universally acknowledged!"

That light of mischief appears in his eyes again as he says, "You don't need to move your hand, you know. I won't judge!" because trying to fluster Mike is almost as fun as glitter-bombing Donna... with fewer chances of getting yeeted. He puts an arm around Mike's neck and says, "But usually I get at least an offer of dinner and/or a movie before that point, though!"

His nose wiggles. "What's that scent?"

Michael Hannigan has posed:
"W-" Eyes look to the hand that Terry refers to. The eyes close for a moment as he tilts his head down pressing his lips together, before looking to Terry, "I was trying to make you more comfortable." Mike explains.

To Terry's question, Mike sneaks a glance over towards the kitchen area. Although the wall does block the view of the slow cooker, the general purpose is still there. "Pork-" He replies, eyes looking back towards the closely situated Terry, "-Bar B Que. Sandwiches." He pauses, putting the words together into a single sentence "Pork Bar B Que Sandwiches. Do you want to stay and have some?"

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Terry smiles softly and lays his head on Mike's shoulder, his other arm coming around to hang around his neck in a lazy gesture. "I think I would love to. First, though, let's see about an appetizer," he adds playfully, and crinkles his nose, before touching it to the side of Mike's neck. Fortunately, it's not cold.

"Oh. You can put that hand back, by the way."