Owner Pose
Ray Palmer They say getting there is half the fun.

Not when you're the Atom performing his teleportation by phone line. The mighty mite sails through photon beams and electron shells. He sails none too gracefully. He has enough time to wonder how he can see discrete photons and electrons, how he can in fact be conscious of rebounding off them and a transit that takes a tiny part of a second seems to take a minute to him. Behind him Wade must be playing music or something to aid in his flight. Honestly, a metronome works. A set of drums is a bit much. In any case, in what seems like a minute to Ray a phone is picked up, somewhere and Ray dives for it. He expands as he exits the mouthpiece, to land on his hands and knees on the marble floor, panting heavily. He slowly resumes his normal size.
Michael Hannigan Still trying to sleep off the effects of jet lag, Mike gives a groan into his pillow. A hand feebly reaches towards the nightstand near him. But finding nothing there, the sleepy headed musician realizes the sound is coming from the other side. Why was the phone on the left side of the bed?

Ugh. Vocalizing his general complaint of being woken, Mike rolls to the opposite side of the bed. The other hand reaches forwrd, fumbling before knocking the receiver out of the cradle. In the awkwardness, the head piece is angled in the direction of the open bathroom door before being brought to the lazily planking performer's ear. "Mmm hmm?"
Ray Palmer The Atom coughs and picks his head up. He is easy to miss at tiny size. It's part of his schtick. "Over here Mr. Drago. Sorry to wake you up. Mr. Shaw sent me from New York. He was very helpful..." The receiver is blasting a spirited drum solo into Mike's ear before cutting off. He gets up a little shakily. "Sorry, teleporting is a new trick. It's disorienting at times (like 24-7). He looks around switches the lights on.
Michael Hannigan Hearing the recorded drum solo being played. Mike's eyes slowly blink open. Phone already being set back on the cradle to hang up. Now, one thing has been established already. That would be Mr Drago is very tired. So, registering the presence of a figure that wasn't there a moment ago does not get the consideration one in a more rested mind may gift. Upon the form being noticed. Mike's gentle reseting of the phone is ignored as he's instead rolling as quickly as he can to the other side of the bed.

CLUNK!

"JESUS!"

It is by sheer luck that the rocker doesn't end up landing on the floor as he instead ends up on one foot as he hops back from the bed in his dismount. Wobble wobble. The other foot ends up on the floor, stablizing him.

As the light flicks on, Mike blinks, eyes adjusting to the newfound light. Hands raised up seemingly ready to swat away anthing being brought hsi way.

But there's no attack. Just a guy in a costume who had just apologized for waking him.

Judging from the fuffled sounds of shrill laughter coming from the earpiece of the phone, Mike had failed to hang up. And Wade was enjoying every second of it.

Mike glares at the phone. "This counts as our check in you know!" He states, raising his voice to make sure the still running phone picks up his message.
Ray Palmer The Atom throws his hand up in what he hopes is a peaceful gesture. "I can explain... Mr. Shaw said you knew Dr. Pym. I figured you'd be used to nearly anything with him. Anyway, Dr. Palmer contacted me. He met Mr. Shaw at a fundraiser for ESU. Mr. Shaw asked me to bring this to you. Hang on." The Atom digs into the wide belt he wears and retrieves a bottle of pills. He puts it on the dresser and backs away from the musician. "He said they're to help you sleep... is Mr. Shaw your stepfather or something?"
Michael Hannigan Mike lowers his hands, giving a nod to the statement about Dr. Pym. "Yeah Hank. We're friends." He confirms, glancing to Atom and then to the phone. "He doesn't usually come in by phone. Actually- other than you, the only one els-"
Mike pauses. Does he really want to get into the discussion about phone traveling demonesses with a guy he just met in his hotel room? "-nevermind."

The rattle of the bottle as it is set down on the dresser causes for him to look to the set down item. "...must've fallen out when I was packing." He brings up a hand to rub at his face. "Thanks."

Judging from the new round of laughter coming from the phone, Wade finds The Atom's question amusing. The musician rolls his eyes, moving around the bed to hang up the phone. "More like an older brother type." Mike corrects, "We're not that far apart in age. Sorry about the greeting earlier. Usually the ones that don't call ahead are causing prob-" Another pause, "Well, I guess you were calling ahead."
Ray Palmer The Atom rubs the back of his neck. "Well at least you didn't call me Pym or that other guy. Yeah, Mr. Shaw was concerned about you leaving these meds behind. He also offered a generous grant to the University -not necessary but appreciated. Well, it was nice to be of service but I'll let you get some sleep. If you could talk into the receiver I'll just jump back... once he stops laughing..."
Michael Hannigan Mike tilts his head at the mention of the other guy. "Lang?" He asks, reaching for the phone again. "Lang's a nice guy. Very helpful." The mention of the medicine makes him glance to it again. "Yeah um, they're not an every night sort of thing but- better to have them and not need them than the other way around."

He looks to the costumed man. "Ok. So, I take it you get mistaken for those two a lot. I mean, granted, when smaller it might be hard to pick out the details. And it probably doesn't help that Pym's pretty much got a costume for each primary color...What do you call yourself?"
Ray Palmer The Atom strikes a heroic pose. The atomic symbol on his mask flashes. "I call myself the Atom. Some people nick named me the Mighty Mite. A new hero, but a very hard worker! And you're Nick... Drago. I think I saw you in Central Park. Not really into music. I guess Dr. Pym is the gold standard in size changing, though I use my own tech."
Michael Hannigan Mike nods. "Considering the earlier talk, between the two I'd go with Atom. Mite's an insect so you might accidentally brand yourself with the ant themed group if you promote that one."

He steps forward, offering a hand to shake. "When not working I'll usually go by Mike or Michael. Nick is my...nickname."
Ray Palmer The Atom shakes Mike's hand firmly. 'Well give my regards to Dr. Pym. I shouldn't be annoyed being mistaken for him but you know, supers are a lot like performers: ego. If I can use your phone I'll be out of your way. It must be after midnight here." He points to the phone for emphasis.
Michael Hannigan The musician smiles, "Right. I'll be sure to mention you next time he calls." (What are phone rates in the microverse like anyways?) "Thank you for bringing the meds over."

Blink blink. What's Atom (what? Oh. Sorry.) What's THE Atom pointing a-? Mike glances down, looking to the phone. "Ah. Right." He steps aside, granting the midnight visitor access to the device.
Ray Palmer The Atom punches in his number, explaining, "Dr. Palmer has his phone set up to allow me access even when he can't answer it. He did it since that business with the Joker." He listens for a moment then lays the receiver down. "If you can clap in rhythm please till the contact is made, that'd be a big help. Mr. Shaw over did it with that recording." He leaps onto the night stand already shrinking as he lights. He's a speck as he leaps into the mouthpiece's holes and is lost from sight.
Michael Hannigan Being awake now, Mike is granted the priviledge of seeing how The Atom starts the process of traveling by phone. Once the man has vanished from sight, Mike sits down on the nearby bed.

"Seems more pleasant than when I went through." He murmurs to himself giving a shrug before he sets out providing some rhythm. Instead of clapping he extends two fingers, providing a rhythmic cadence as he drums them along the tabletop.