The Monkey King's School of the Mystical Arts

[Mikhail]

Mik looked at the guy who'd come out, hair all gelled or whatever to look perfectly messy. He wondered how many hours it took to get just right. And the clothes. Probably lasered and smooth like a turtle shell everywhere, he thought to himself, laughing.

But before he could say anything, the guy spoke his name. The fuck? He thought he heard the slightest tinkle of laughter. He laughed to himself. Ok. Good! The bitch hadn't wasted any time. Alright, love. Let's see what fun you have for me.

He smirked. "Heh. So you were there, huh? Sorry mate. Don't really remember you. Course I was a bit lit. More than a bit." He laughed, winking. "And had a nice firm woman grinding on me. Tends to cloud up the thought-sicles, you know."

He stuck out his hand. "So yeah. Name's Mik. You already know that. As for the other, nah. Didn't meet Rowan till that night. Called me out of the crowd with her hoodoo whatever. Girl is all kinds of crazy with that. But in a good way, you know?" He winked, then stopped, an image seeming to float up from the cobwebs of his mind. "Wait! You weren't that other guy, were you? I seem to remember her doing that calling thing again."