lady_moon | Indy and Mike's Suite

Indy and Mike's Suite

Moon comes to the door, her arms fully of three-week old grey-brown fluffness and knocks.

Mare is by her side, eyes moving between the door and the puppy. The puppy, it should be said, looks like he is not two weeks old, but more like six. He's big and alert and quite happy, squirming in Moon's arms.

She'd promised Indy the puppy, and when she'd seen the little boy among the litter, she'd known this guy was the one meant for Indy.

Moon waits with a big smile on her face, giggling quietly as the puppy licks her chin and nips playfully on occasion.

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She nods at Mike.

"What he said."

Cue the cute grinning.

Cue the exaggerated unimpressed scowling.

"No."

He pulls the puppy to his chest protectively and wanders into the living room.

"Don't worry, lad. I won't let those two conspirators give you a crappy name. And I promise I won't invite Aunt Alanna's input either."

Comparing Mike's naming ability to that of Alanna? Oh...oh them's fightin' words right there.

Mike turns to Moon, his face all aglow with mischief.

"I really am going to teach that puppy the words to Henry the Eighth I am you know that right?"

Moon giggles. "He'll learn quickly.

She then looks at Indy.

"I like Rigel, but he isn't mine," she says with a grin. "He's yours. And, I think, Mike's in some weird way. Will Stampy like him?"

The tinyphant in question is still bunkered in her rubber plant haven. Her trunk is poking out through the leaves though, sniffing curiously at the new scent.

"She gets on great with mom and dad," Indy says offhandedly, after a suspicious glance is aimed at Mike, and then Moon. "They'll be fine."

He doesn't know what they're talking about, never having heard the rhyme. Nor can he really argue that about the custody issue, since pets are pretty much 'shared family charges' if Stampy is anything to go by.

"Rigel's okay," he then tells Moon. "I think we can do better though. Something a bit more macho, and... earthy."

It's amazing how quickly one can spring back at the sound of a beautiful woman giggling. It's also why Mike can just merely grin back at Indy as if his was the only clean soul in the bar.

"Rocky? Doug? Phil?"

Why yes, Mike is in fact working his way through his, What do you call a guy with no arms and no legs... joke pool, why do you ask?

Moon finds Mike infinitely amusing.

She shows this by laughing again, quietly, behind her hand.

"Phil? I don't think he's a Phil." Then she turns to Indy. "And more macho? You are such a guy!" Moon lightly bats Indy's forehead. "But I like you enough that I can forgive that."

Indy shakes his head despairingly at Mike's suggestions.

"Stop. Just... stop."

He stoops and places the puppy down on the carpet. There's a slight wince as his recent leg wound protests the strain, but he stays hunkered to observe the cub at close quarters.

"As for you," he asides to Moon, "watch it." He reaches up without taking his eyes off the wolf, and idly swats her butt. "Macho's my thing. You should be appreciatin' it, not forgivin' it."

The cub, for his part, makes a beeline for Stampy's hiding place, very curious about the wiggling thing protruding from the foliage. Before long, a wet wolf nose meets the tip of a miniature elephant trunk. And a suspenseful pause in sniffing and snuffling occurs...

While wolf noses might be more adept at the mechanics of snuffling, they just can't beat a mini-phant trunk for versatility. What starts out at a ground floor sniff quickly turns into a 90 degree, all over snuffle.

Think Flowbee without any actual fur loss.

Moon yelps when Indy swats her backside and gives him her best glare.

Which isn't a very good one.

Then she grins as she watches Stampy and the yet-unnamed pup. "A perfect pair," she says with a giggle. "Although, not-yet-macholy-named-puppy might give Stampy a run for her money before long, wanting to chase and pounce her."

"Her Majesty can give as good as she gets," Indy lets his girlfriend know. "Size doesn't really matter to her, long as there're no feathers or sharp beaks in evidence."

He looks to his room-mate for confirmation.

"Right, Mikey?"

Meanwhile, the pup doesn't quite know what to make of this wriggly worm-thing that's making a very thorough olfactory inspection of him. He sits back on his haunches and tilts his head to one side.

Then decides to take a closer look.

He scrabbles up the side of the plant pot and onto the soil, then half-springs half-blunders through the vegetation, aiming at whatever's beyond.

Mike has the audacity to look surprised.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Am I allowed to talk again?"

A quick trumpet of alarm comes from within the deep recesses of the potted plant. The walls! They're being breeched! Battle stations!

Of course this being Stampy it really sounds a bit more like: Warning! Bicycle passing on your right.

"No, there's fur and sharp teeth instead," she points out haughtily to Indy. "I think those are worse."

Not that the unnamed puppy would eat Stampy.

As Mare and Mons had demonstrated, the tiny-phant was scary in her affectionate way.

"Talk away," Indy distractedly replies to Mike. His attention is locked on the rubber plant, which has now started to wobble quite violently. "Just quit suggesting names."

All of a sudden, the puppy breaks from the cover, tumbling onto the carpet, finding his feet, and galloping off towards the couch. He's pursued by the miniphant in all her diminutive ninja glory. Both of them look gleeful rather than fearful or angry.

"Stampy begs to differ," Indy chuckles to Moon.

"I've trained her well."

Says Mike with more than a bit of pride.

"And I wouldn't worry too much about her when the Yet-To-Be-Named Pup gets bigger. I mean, Stampy's managed not to get hurt with Raph living up here, and I'm pretty sure he's worse than the wolf will ever be. So there's that."

"Raph chews on things and does his business in the corner?" she asks Mike. "I might think about housebreaking him."

She's teasing.

Maybe.

While the two animals continue to race around the living room, Indy snickers. Digs at Raph never fail to be funny, and he's hopeful of an equally amusing comeback from Mike.

"You don't house break Raph. Raph break house."

Spoken like a true sage. Or...at very least someone familar with sage, and perhaps rosemary.

Moon giggles.

A lot.

"So Puppy and Raph together could equal quite a mess about the flat," she says, eyes sparkling.

Indy's chuckles mellow out in the wake of Moon's reply.

"I'm glad that prospect amuses you," he says.

"Mikey, tell the Loompas to take us off the housekeeping list. I think Moon's volunteering to clean house for us." He flashes Moon a grin. "I'm fine with it, long as she works naked."

"I'll see what I can do."

Mike shakes out his arms, cracks his neck, and then proceeds to gently massage his temples with his fingertips.

"One quick note to Bar and it'll all be set up."

He pauses.

"Moon? What would you say your size would be in...oh say a French Maid costume? If you're naked all the time, you'll need something to wear on Thursdays."

She first whaps Indy, then she whaps Mike.

"I don't clean!"

The naked thing doesn't bother her. She'd be happy if the bar allowed for a no clothes dress code. Clothing was binding!

Then she pauses, eyeing Mike sideways.

"And what's on Thursdays?"

Mike playfully attempts to block long after the thwap has hit home.

"Nothing, and that's kind of the point."

Indy looks vaguely surprised.

"I haven't told you about Thursdays?"

Beat.

"They've been temporarily on hold while Raph's been staying. He's not a big fan of public nudity."

"A male not a fan of public nudity? That's something I've not run across before," she says thoughtfully. "And only Thursdays? Why Thursdays? Was it arbitrarily chosen, or does it have some sort of significance?"

She taps her chin.

"I would have chosen Fridays, I think. Fridays are good for breaks."

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