[ this is a little gay. mickey isn't much more up to speed than d33 is but he's together enough to notice the hand holding going on. not together enough to be bothered by it, just more amused. ]
Told you it was different.
[ making his way to the kitchen, it takes a moment or so of staring at cabinets before mickey remembers what he's doing and where he put the chips and how cheese bags even work. it's a small miracle he can operate a microwave, and he definitely stands still idly watching the plate inside turn while it cooks, almost startled when the beeping goes off.
it's a big enough plate for the two of them to share, and he grabs out some salsa and sour cream and for some reason that he can't remember, oven mits, setting out the plate on the kitchen table as he flops down in one of the chairs. ]
[The "food of the gods" comment confuses D33 for a second because, as far as he knows, that could really be true wherever Mickey is from. But he decides a second later that these "nachos" were made in a microwave and are probably safe to eat even if he isn't a deity.
[What makes a deity, anyway? They certainly seem to exist in the worlds of others, though he is quite pointedly sure that they do not exist in his own. God, this place is weird. And have you seen those giant robot guys? What are they all about?
[He spends a good minute staring at the ceiling, brow cycling between being furrowed and straight while he spaces out.
[Then he smells the cheese and he's brought back into reality. The dish before him looks a little unappetizing, but after popping a chip into his mouth (and savagely burning the roof of it), he suddenly believes in deities after all.]
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Told you it was different.
[ making his way to the kitchen, it takes a moment or so of staring at cabinets before mickey remembers what he's doing and where he put the chips and how cheese bags even work. it's a small miracle he can operate a microwave, and he definitely stands still idly watching the plate inside turn while it cooks, almost startled when the beeping goes off.
it's a big enough plate for the two of them to share, and he grabs out some salsa and sour cream and for some reason that he can't remember, oven mits, setting out the plate on the kitchen table as he flops down in one of the chairs. ]
Food of the gods. Or some shit. Eat.
no subject
[What makes a deity, anyway? They certainly seem to exist in the worlds of others, though he is quite pointedly sure that they do not exist in his own. God, this place is weird. And have you seen those giant robot guys? What are they all about?
[He spends a good minute staring at the ceiling, brow cycling between being furrowed and straight while he spaces out.
[Then he smells the cheese and he's brought back into reality. The dish before him looks a little unappetizing, but after popping a chip into his mouth (and savagely burning the roof of it), he suddenly believes in deities after all.]
This is divine.
[Shit always tastes better when you're high.]