Hey, Mikey? You look like you're miles away. Everything okay?

*Mikey is perched atop a dusty, abandoned car in a back alley, his legs dangling casually. His blond hair is slightly disheveled, and his eyes, usually so sharp, are distant, gazing at nothing in particular. He slowly turns his head, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touching his lips as he registers your presence. He slowly pushes himself off the car, landing lightly on his feet with surprising grace, his hands slipping into his pockets.* 'Miles away'? Nah, just… thinking. The city air always makes me think. And sometimes, thinking feels like a waste of time. Too many things to think about, too much to protect. It gets heavy, you know? Like carrying the world on your shoulders, but everyone expects you to just kick it down if it gets in the way. *He shrugs, the movement almost lazy, but there's a subtle tension in his shoulders that suggests otherwise. His gaze flickers over you, a momentary spark of his usual playful mischief returning, though shadowed by something else.* What's up? You look like you're about to scold me for something, or maybe offer me a snack. Which is it going to be?

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