Owner	Pose
Jacky Diamond	In the more northerly parts of New York City -- probably not even CALLED New York City by this point, or Metropolis or Gotham or Snidelyville or whatever they call it, but definitely NOT in Jersey -- there is a subsection of the city which has a number of farms and suburbish areas and tucked away in a small business area is a brick building that says " ETERINARY MEDIC NE" in cutout letters on the roofline, and a sign reading "Happy Pet Clinic" in front, and has a door for dogs and a door for cats, leading into separate waiting areas. There is also, for no particularly reasonable reason, a sewer grating leading to a storm sewer in the parking lot, and it somehow connects to other places that make NO sense whatsoever. Unless you're a sewer-dwelling creature in which case it's like a freeway offramp or something. Inside, Rhonda signs out. "Hey Jacky, I'm gonna lock the front doors, you good back there?" "Yeah, I'm fine," the duty vet says. "I just want to check on Biggles Smith and then I'll head out for a while."
Donatello	TWO HOURS AGO "Don't cross the wires, don't cross the wires, don't cross the wires..." There was a silver wire and a blue wire. They were connected to a widescreen television. Hazel eyes magnified behind a pair of circle-shaped spectacles, Donatello attempted to complete the task at hand with the utmost care, pinching each between a finger and thumb. Knee-deep in junk and gadgetry, just about-- BAM! CRASH! That was Michelangelo. As he remembers it, his brother toppled into his workspace, blabbing plans that would make even Leonardo's green skin blanche. "Above ground?" asked Donnie, apprehensive. He chewed the inside of his mouth as he considered, but would eventually consent to participating in breaking the rules. I mean, not that he wanted to. Not tonight, anyway. Unfortunately, without the oldest of the four turtles around to exert some sort of leader-like dominance and enforce the home's policies, responsibility indubitably fell to him. He's not good at that, being the bossy one. Donnie doesn't generally stonewall his more adventurous siblings like he probably should. Instead, he's made it his job is to ensure that certain members of his family don't wind up getting themselves into too much trouble. Often, this attempt is not met with success. Especially regarding Raph. Sigh. BACK TO THE PRESENT Plodding gingerly along through the sewer muck in his bare feet after the smaller turtle, for the most part, the conversation has been entirely one-sided. Michelangelo flops through one monologue after the next. Don interrupts to agree, disagree, and occasionally correct, but he might as well have turned to the sloping walls on either side and shouted for all the good it does. Sometimes, he thinks Mikey just enjoys hearing the sound of his own voice. In the orange bandana one's arms, a kitten. The kitten is more offensively coloured than Mikey's bright facemask, but it's certainly cute, if a bit downtrodden. Where they found it was at the skate park nearby, probably abandoned, poor thing. That's what Michelangelo is actually talking to, not his brother, steadfast Donatello. "Hang on, I think this is the grate by the veterinarian clinic. We'll need to put our disguises back on." Trenchcoats and hats, that's what Don's got to carry. Possibly a skateboard on his shell. "Remember, rabies and fleas. If you're going to adopt it, we don't want to bring anything back that'll hurt Master Splinter." He wrings his hands underneath the fabric of the coats, clearly worried.
Michelangelo	Mikey DOES like the sound of his voice. Out of all the brothers, he's sure he would be the front man and lead vocalist of their boy band. This is a project he has floated to his other brothers several times before, but they always shut him down, mostly because they know he'd be the one on all the posters. Jealousy is an ugly thing. "Aw, lookit him Donnie! How could this little guy hurt Master Splinter!" He turns the kitten around and holds it up to his face. "You're so ky-ooooooOW!" the kitten, not used to being manhandled like that, gave Mike a quick, scared swipe. He is immediately returned to his arms, "We'll work on that. Totally." The turtle reaches for the disguise, after passing the kitten over to his brother once he is all Bogarted. "And look on the bright side, maybe he'll turn into a mutant by osmosis!" That's not how it works, Mikey. Once in disguise he actually takes the lead up past the grate and into the parking lot. Trying to look as totally human as he can (yeah...) he goes to the vet's. "C'mon, Donnie, I think they're gonna close soon!"
Jacky Diamond	Biggles is a geriatric cat of undeterminable breed, who has been under treatment for thyroid disease, by way of the administration of a dose of radioiodine, which will make his hyperactive thyroid into a smaller, less hyperactive thyroid, and then Biggles can return to being the monster he used to be. Part of the reason he's at the doctors? To capture his wastes. Radioactive cat poop and glowing urine are not generally desirable in landfill. Unfortunately, Jacky is made out of diamond at the moment, because it's just what he DOES when he's around unshielded radiation. It's a reflex. So, the plain old ordinary veterinarian is slightly see-through, rather sparkly, and totally not freaking out over psychic warnings ... wait, no, that part still works, it's just the telepathy that shuts down. He's totally aware that something Not Natural just crawled out of the darkness into his parking lot, and it has ... a kitten! What unholy, evil .... wait no, there's something wrong here. It's bringing the kitten OUT of the sewer, not dragging it down to a lair to be sacrificed to the.... what the heck. Jacky drops the small baggie of cat poops and sand into a shielded bio-waste container and closes the lid before he grabs an LED flashlight and slams the back door open and says, "WHO GOES THERE!!??" and it's not dark out Jacky you idiot, the flashlight won't do anything and why are you still diamond? Change back now!! So he does. Flesh and blood. Still has a flashlight though, in the middle of the day.
Donatello	In an instant, faster than he can bat an eyelid, he has this scruffy orange kitten foisted on him. It mews, looking as angelic as a dirty furball can, especially after laying claws into his younger brother. Good job in scaring it, Mikey. Donnie, whose disposition is far gentler, just gives the feline a curious glance before he realizes that he's been unceremoniously DITCHED. Seriously, did Michelangelo really leave him here, in the sewers, with the meowface and Humphrey Bogart's other trenchcoat? Wow. "Oh yeah, thanks a lot." follows Mike's departure, the sassy utterance coming from down past the grate, in the darkness beyond. Good thing he's not Raph, because the grouchy brother would pitch a fit, being unable to juggle both item and animal in a way to achieve either goal. That's not the way of Donatello. There's always another way, he just has to think about it... Donnie actually apologizes to the kitten before plucking it up by the loose skin of its scruff. He replaces the hat on his dome-shaped head, whipping the coat around to search for the right armhole. Takes a moment, maybe seven, but when it's shook into place, the process becomes that much quicker, with less cat-dangling required. Problem is, the skateboard is still on his shell, jutting up from the back of his collar, making the taller turtle look even more grotesque and misshapen. Placing one hand on the highest rung of the ladder that he's capable of reaching, Donatello has to heave-ho once or twice before jumping out and landing close to Sir /SQUIRREL/?! Wha-- If turtles had a nose and not a beak, I guess, it'd be wrinkled right now. That confused but aghast wrinkle, you know? "Mikey, osmosis is a process by which molecules of a solvent tend to pass through a semipermeable membrane. It's from a less concentrated solution into a more concentrated one, thus equalizing the concentrations on either side." Donatello speaks knowledgeably, adding as a sudden afterthought, "Maybe, after hundreds of years, you could get the kitten to stick to you." NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERD. Sadly, it's probably the most he's said all night. For once, Mikey returns almost immediately to the task, Don's attention brought back by mention of closure. His hatted head is turning. The door flies open and that catches him by surprise, enough that he presents a side profile, curling rather protectively around the little kitty, but frozen in indecision. "Wh...what do we do?" he whispers harshly to Michelangelo, "Is that the doctor?" Was... was that man transparent just a second ago, or are his eyes playing a nasty trick? It's not... terribly dark out, no, and he doesn't have his magnifying glasses... What a time to leave them at home!
Michelangelo	"You mean we'd be, like, two Peeps smooshed together because of the heat? That'd be creepy- the mutant turtle-cat from Channe-" Mike stops his flight of fancy (or insanty) when presented with an even more bizarre scenario in real life, no extra special effects needed. "Check it, Donnie," the younger brother says in a conspiratorial whisper that is as secretive as an elephant with hay fever tap-dancing on a field of dandelions, "That dude was see-through!" He realizes that his brother now has the kitten, when in fact it should be his responsibility. It's not that Mike shirks being responsible, it's that so many things tend to call to his attention and he only has so many hands. And eyes. "Oh, here you go, litte guy!" he reaches out in order to extricate the rogue feline from his brother before heading over to the guy calling out. "We go there! Here! Over there to here! Dude are you closed? We have a patient coming in for a checkup if you would!" He advances with the feline, holding him like Rafiki at the beginning of the Lion King. The kitten isn't entirely sure it likes this, but it still hasn't made up its mind.
Jacky Diamond	"Oh my stars and garters you guys are mutants," Jacky says. "Don't just stand there like lumps, get in here ... the old woman in the next building third floor apartment will be looking out in a minute and she'll absolutely call the police, the sweet old thing." Somehow 'sweet old thing' and 'insane old biddy' are synonyms for a moment, go figure. Jacky waits for the two to ninja their way inside, then closes the door and says, "Woah, heavy vibes. You guys are like ... some kind of turtle, right?" He takes the kitten and puts it on an exam table and puts down a small can of kitten food as he talks. And like Mikey, he can be a motormouth, scritching the kitten and talking while he feels over its body in a practiced motion... "Wow what a cute little monster. Dude you have fleas and you're about to contract worms. Let's FIX that now, OK?" and he mixes a few drops of something from a medicine bottle into the kitten's food. "No, no making faces, //eat it//," Jacky says, and the kitten obeys. "OK, tell me about yourselves."
Donatello	NANTS INGONYAMA! Bahithi baba... Sithi uhhmm ingonyama... (Ingonyama...) NAAAANTS INGONYAMA! BAgi-- Sorry, there was a moment and I got caught up in it. Backtracking just a bit, he had been all Mama Bear over the kitten, but Donatello's thunder is stolen. The scruffball taken from his arms, that allows him to be a whole lot more openly selfish and cautious than his trusting brother. Hazel irises hit the limit of white on either side, making note of hiding spots, shadows, and the eventual gathering dark, all in a split second. There's certainly a place to run, many of them, should the need arise... And Mikey? Donnie WILL use that skateboard as a bludgeoning tool, in case you're wondering. No hesitation. The turtle's 'lips' purse together, finally mulling over the confirmation that what he saw was exactly what Mike witnessed. This individual was see-through a second ago, and Don can't get his hand out fast enough to stop Michelangelo from trotting away, Circle of Life playing on loudspeaker in this player's apartment. Mutants? "You know what we are?" Dumbfounded, all hostility ebbs from his misshapen frame. Donatello, just a teenager like his brother, looks uncomfortable and out of place, not forced to maintain secrecy and lost without its presence. In one heartbeat, his world has changed. Is this some kind of acceptance? He has to choose whether to get inside, as per the suggestion of the doctor, or to leave. Once again, Michelangelo is gone. "Tch." A person who looks after animals can't be bad, right? Dammit! Donnie does 'ninja' his way into the interior, eventually. He also sees no point in keeping up the admittedly shite disguise when it's clearly seen straight through. Removing his hat, he intones softly, "Not some kind of turtle, actually. We /are/ turtles." This could mean many things, and if he won't cough up the facts, Mikey will. He's like that. Watching the exam take place and the kitten's obedience, the older of the two lapses into a pensive silence. He reflects not on the state of furry future friends, but what this could mean, when they're recognized as mutants, and as turtles. Could that lead to real identities, or living on the surface? Things that aren't necessary, Leo would argue. "Huh?" His almost pleasant reverie broken like a spell, Donatello lowers the hand that had drifted up at some point to cup his chin. "I think it's kinda awkward having a conversation with someone when you don't know their name..." So much for being the smart one, blurting that out without a second thought. "I mean..." Ugh. If he wasn't so green, his face would be flushed. This would be where Michelangelo takes over, but a look from Donnie to the younger sibling warns him about saying too much.
Michelangelo	"That's awesome, you can talk to animals?" Michelangelo says. Whereas Donatello has a stream of consciousness that could power a hydroelectrical facility, Mikey is more of an in-the-moment kind of guy. This does not mean that he is incapable of introspection... in fact, he is very introspective. He just happens to introspect best when there isn't a whole world of colorful novelties calling out to him. "Wait. We're turtles, so we're animals, and we're talking to you and you're talking to us, so I guess that's nothing -that- special," he smirks, "Betcha kitty only speaks to you 'cause you've got food." That must be it. Jacky's question is easily parsed, "We're turtles. We're ninja, and we're awesome- and we are one with the shadows. What about you? I've never seen veterinarians go transparent before. Is that a thing you learn to do in med school for animals?"
Jacky Diamond	"Nah, that's what I learned in mutant reform school," Jacky says, completely giving the wrong impression. It wasn't a reform school. "OK, it wasn't reform school. It was a private school for mutants. Name's Jacky Winters, and I'm a veterinarian." Jacky offers a hand to shake, and when the turtle with the nunchucks hidden somewhere on his person accepts the handshake, Jacky's eyes go glowy blue for a moment and Truck swerving     Kid knocked off bicycle         Radioactive waste spill             Pets dumped by really obnoxious parent                 Rat Sensei "UH! You're ... mutant //turtles// not mutant humans. That's amazing. And ninjas? Of course, otherwise those disguises wouldn't fool Ben Grimm's Aunt Petunia." Sometimes Jacky says weird things. It's not his fault because his ESP shows him stuff, random stuff, but he forgets a lot of it. Or he says he does. Jacky lets go of the handshake, not sure if ... that's Donatello, the staff expert, right? the nunchuck guy was Michaelangelo. So ... kitten. Jacky picks up a small squeeze tube and puts some slightly greasy liquid on the back of the kitten-monster's neck. "Frontline. It'll keep the fleas off him. I'd like to give him some vaccinations, but he's a few weeks too young."
Donatello	Sometimes, on the rare occasion, Michelangelo is funny. It might be because the situation is so ridiculous and not something he had mentally prepared himself for, but Donatello almost laughs. Just the steady stream of verbiage from turtles to animals to talking with animals -- it's amusing. His 'lips' twist in a slight show of good-natured mirth, lasting long enough to be seen, but it disappears soon after. No ghost remains. "Well, we're not really one with the shadows currently," he points out, albeit redundantly. However, Donnie listens intently, the gears in his head turning ceaselessly, pouring over the information, as sparse as it is. A private school for mutants? Does that mean it's for... them? Are there more... Mutanimals, if he had to give it a term? Enough to populate a institution of education? Is the doctor one, somehow? Of course, using mutagen to change an actual human isn't impossible, given their extraordinary circumstances. The light of hope is lit in his chest, but it goes out almost simultaneously. No, not a school for mutanimals. Just people. People who have probably had naturally occuring mutations. That was not Jacky understanding the underlying meaning that they're turtles, but a knowledgeable exclamation that happened after an unspoken transmission of data. Like what happened when he laid eyes on them, before removing the disguises. It makes sense, and a conclusion is reached. "Extrasensory perception. Is that specifically a branch of Psychometry, but instead of using an object belonging to an individual, you can just make direct contact?" How much did he learn from just a brief handshake? From touching the kitten itself? The location of their home? Master Splinter? "Donatello," he confirms in defeat, "I'm sure you know his name is Michelangelo, but just call him Mikey." Awkward shuffle is awkward. For once, this isn't Michelangelo's fault. Donnie suggested this place, and acknowledging the blame lies with him doesn't sit well. On his conscience, or the overactive part of his imagination. While he first entertained the thought that they were accepted and there were more, now it's about mutant TURTLES, not mutant HUMANS. How interesting it will be to mistake his family first for the latter, but to discover that they belong to the former... Dissection. Experiments. A fate worse than death. Folding his arms across the middle of his plastron, Donatello grips the edges of the carapace on his back. Tightly. His three knuckles of each hand grow paler. "They're not meant to be effective disguises, just something to use in a pinch." A beat. "Since you know what we are, and I assume a lot more than you've let on, Mister Winters... Um." Donnie is guarded, but not terribly threatening, "Er..." He can't bluff and bluster the way Raphael can! It's a curse! "I'd like to know what your intentions are, since, so... uh." Hey Mikey, line? -- Wait, no, that'd be the absolute worst thing, tossing this to the younger one, who as mentioned previously is oh so trusting. Maybe they should just ask the cost of the vet visit and ninja get the hell out.
Michelangelo	Did he just totally read his life by touching him? Mikey pulls a Keanu, eyes going wide as he whoas. How much could he learn, like that? Like, could the dude have even more psychic powers? Could he foretell the future? In his mind's eye, the youngest turtle sees.... Lottery tickets dancing in front of his eyes. Beach parties. Penthouse apartments, and even... All the pizza they could ever need. "Dude! If I brought you, like, an almanac, could you..." And he trails off, looking at Donnie in disbelief when he rattles off Jacky's character sheet. "Dude, chill it, it's not nice to call someone a psycho synthetic-" he quickly turns to Jacky and shakes his head, "You've gotta forgive my bro, he's not metroszechuan like I am, he grew up in a sewer." And if Jacky didn't know where they lived, well... "So, do we need to bring the little dude later for more shots?" He frowns at Donny, "His intentions are to keep my cat healthy, Donny. That's why we came here, d'uh."
Jacky Diamond	"My intentions are to keep your cat healthy, yes. You can definitely expect me to keep your secrets since you have to keep mine, right? Oh, and don't ask me what the lottery ticket numbers are. If I knew I would've played them and gotten rich already. My power doesn't work that way... wait, almanac? What do you mean?" Jacky scritches Monster Kitten on the back of the neck, spreading the Frontline through the fur and murderizing all the flea eggs. He looks curiously at the two ninja turtles, wondering if he should tell Beast about them. Nah. Not if they don't want him to. And the vibe from the one with the bits of blue trim suggests he isn't comfortable with the info going to //anyone// at the moment. "You guys need anything? I have Moxie cola in the fridge."
Donatello	Annnnnnnnnnnd now, a feeling that is incredibly familiar to at least three of the four turtles: Frustration with Michelangelo. Sure, Mikey probably gets annoyed with himself sometimes, too. But Donatello would bet money that doesn't happen often. The odds are in his favour. Leo or Raph, they'd round on the youngest with exasperation, one more volatile than the other. It's just how brothers are. Donnie prefers not to, or not as much. If he can resolve an issue or misunderstanding quickly, isn't that a better alternative to throwing up his hands and writing off Mike entirely? He knows what the vet's job is, but... "Dude, Psychometry isn't an offensive term. It means that, by picking up a token object, something important to the owner, Mister Winters can 'read' it's history. Where it's been, things it's 'seen'." He stops only to take a breath, then launches into even further explanation, "Now instead of a token object, imagine if that worked with a person, or us. He could see everything. Like where you sleep. And the password to your X-Box Live account." It is necessary to communicate in terms that can be easily understood, especially when it's from one teenager to another. Clear? Clear. While suspicion continues to roll around in his ever-working brain, his worries are at least assuaged in some way, shape or form. With equal leverage, both parties can be bound to secrecy; they are all accountable. "Thank you, Mister Winters, we'd appreciate it-- er, should I be calling you 'Doctor' Winters?" Aware to a degree of proper social etiquette, there are things even Donatello doesn't know. Is a vet deserving of the title of 'Doctor', even though their charges are animals? "If I'm not mistaken, he mentioned almanac because it's an annual calendar. Containing both important dates and astronomical data, like the moon phases. Unfortunately, Mikey, predicting the future or whatever you were thinking of is Precognition. Psychometry is more about Retrocognition, or Postcognition. Seeing the past." In a way, didn't Jacky just confirm that in less words? Clearing his throat sheepishly, Don looks down at the kitten who is getting all de-fleaed. He wants to ask around a million questions about the chemical composition of the formula and how exactly it works, but swallows the lot to ask softly, "A water would be, ah, great?" Is this how a person 'hosts' visitors? He'll have to make a note of it, not that Splinter or Leonardo would ever approve of outsiders in their home. "How long before vaccinations are feasible? Is it based on age or lack of fleas?" A digit double the width of a human finger scratches at his temple, just above the blue-purple eye-mask.
Michelangelo	"Almanacs... you know, like in - wait, you've never SEEN it? Oh, dude, movie night." The younger turtle shakes his head in disapproval, "You've GOT to have a movie night and fix that. It's, like, the greatest ever, isn't it Donnie?" he thumps Donnie lightly on a shoulder, "Sooo funny!" He's so excited about it, that he has sort of forgotten to say what 'it' is, but that's Mikey for you. Sometimes his mouth is too slow to catch up with the new direction his brain is going into. "A Moxie would be great, thanks! It's kinda sad you can't see the future, though. I had a lot of business ideas!" he smirks at Donne, "Heeey, maybe he can tell me what YOUR password is!" He finds the idea of rummaging around Don's hard drive hilarious. He reaches over to pet the cat once the vet is done, "You're such a cuuute little guy."
Jacky Diamond	"It's the physical age of the kitten, usually. This guy's a bit malnourished so he's smaller than he should be. I'm going to give you guys some kitten-food to take with you to feed him three times a day, and then you come back in a week." Jacky pulls a bottle of Vitamin Water (not his fave but they get it for customers) from a fridge marked "do not put meds in here" that sits next to a newer, shinier machine marked "do not put food in here on pain of defenestration" ... and offers it to Donny, and a Moxie for himself and another for Mikey. "So, if he doesn't eat, or he seems to be sneezing or coughing, bring him right back and I'll be here. I have a second sense about that kind of thing. If he's doing better, then we give him his basic shots." And now, the troublesome part. "So, I'm gonna give you the food and vaccinations next week pro-bono because you're fellow mutants and the cat wants to keep you. But this stuff costs me money, so going forward, I'm gonna have to bill you, or take payment in trade. Is that OK? I know you're both too young to work full-time jobs yet." And Jacky isn't sure that the human-sized bipedal rat he saw the flash-image of, would be holding down a job at McDonalds, not with all the recent complaints about rats in McDonalds on Manhattan. He tries very hard not to laugh at that mental image.
Donatello	Shame the mental image isn't shared amongst the trio, but perhaps the hilarity of the suggestion would be lost on the two brothers. Neither turtle has set foot in a McDonald's, at least not to Donnie's knowledge, and they couldn't possibly understand subtle jabs regarding the quality of food or cleanliness of the establishment. However, Donatello knows it's very unsanitary for rats to be in a place of food preparation, despite being incredibly intelligent and fastidious creatures. Thump! Knuckles collide audiably with the green skin stretched over bone, sinew and muscle. 'Lips' thinning, obviously the older of the two would prefer to withhold comment about Project Almanac. It is not, as Mikey says, the greatest ever. There are so many scientific inaccuracies with just the blueprints to a temporal relocation device, and using a car battery or readily available parts to assemble one without tried and tested formulas first is bunk. Don can't suspend his disbelief long enough to buy into such a sham of a movie. Now, if the science is completely made up with its own laws, that's fine. Star Trek? Sure. Star Wars? Better. Ever see Farscape? Not gonna lie, Donatello pirated the whole damn thing and even watched videos of cast interviews from Dragon*Con ages ago. It's a little kooky and the premise is hard to buy into, but the story is solid. Looking a little red at the 'cheeks', a barely audiable mumble escapes from him after long moments of silence, "There's really nothing that you would understand or would interest you on my computer, Mikey." Note to self, CHANGE PASSWORDS. Not that the brainy turtle has anything to HIDE. Everything 'inappropriate' is just a pure interest in biology! Donatello isn't weird! He accepts the Vitamin Water politely, turning the bottle over in his hands to read the nutritional table and listed ingredients. In order to provide a topic of conversation that doesn't jump track like some ADHD magpie huffed up on goofballs, he's about to share information that counting calories is actually based on an archaic diet and it is irrelevant to losing weight, but winds up quickly sidetracked. Donnie cracks the seal of his drink and half-smiles, "I'm pretty sure he's grateful for the gesture," A thumb is jabbed at Michelangelo while he takes a testing sip, "but don't worry about it, Doctor Winters. The generosity is nice, but we're able to pay. I don't think I could sleep at night if we put you out in any way. I mean, this is how you make money to survive, right?" Not everyone can be so lucky to have a bitcoin fortune. Nor do they have a knack for coding software or cellphone apps. He's trying to come up with a remote hacking app that can crack other devices in a matter of minutes just by being less than three feet away. Of course, what to DO with the password when the phone or twenty-something version of the iPad is not currently in hand, that's the hard part. Don's a bit stumped and was up to his ears in calculations and code before he had to fix the television that SOMEONE broke. (That someone was Raphael.)
Michelangelo	"Donny, don't be like that, he's giving us free samples so we come back. That's how it works, right?" Mikey grins and gives his brother a shoulder-hug. If he's noticed anything in Donnie's reactions, he is hiding it very well. You never could tell with Mikey. "Thank you so much for everything, Doc, and you betcha we'll be bringing the little guy for the next round if everything's okay. I just... gotta name him." He picks up the kitten and nuzzles him, which leads to the little furry warrior to fuss and swipe all other the place, eager to hunt something. "I think he totally looks like a spike, doesn't he?" He sips his Moxie, knowing Don is eager to leave. Unbenknownst to him, the kitten has become fascinated with a metal container, probably one of the things the doc uses to store used cottonballs and the like. He's trying to push it over the little table, as cats are wont to do. "Or, I dunno, maybe he's a Rover? Nah, that's a dog's nam-" *Ka-LUNK!* And suddenly, there's used cotton balls... everywhere. Michelangelo bends over to pick up the kitten as it starts off in mid-run, panicked by the topple, and holds it up to his chest. "Hey! That's it! Donnie, say hi to Klunk!" and he holds the kitten up to Don's face, "Kiss!"