Michael Westen

Sam walks up to the walkway after parking as he looks at Mikey and then smiles at him and grins. "MIKEY how the hell are you?"

From:

There's someone blonde lurking behind him. Blonde, in a pink glitter sweater with a black mini skirt and fishnet stockings, and rolling her blue-shaded eyes as she tries to shrink behind his wide frame.

From:

Maddie finds them outside, ever-present plume of cigarette smoke trailing behind her. She's not entirely surprised by Michael's sneaking off, but she's pleased to see her ragtag family group coming together again. Sam's companion gets an appraising look.

"Aren't you going to introduce us to your friend, Sam?"

From:

Michael takes his friend by the shoulder and in a barely audible tone, mutters; "Sam, a pro? Really?"

Brushing off the comment as though he hadn't even said it, he extends a friendly hand to the woman; "Welcome, Miss."

From:

Sam then looks at them then sighs slowly and shakes his head.

"No, she's not a pro. I met her in a bar."

That doesn't help any Sam.

From:

Feel that, Sam? That little fist socking you in the kidneys? That's Clementine.

She peers around the hulk of him.

"Hey. Clementine Johnson." She gives Michael her hand and steps forward - the other has a dish filled with cranberry-orange relish she got from the Saverite on her way through the door. Miami agrees with her, in that she's only turned vaguely pink instead of red.

From:

Skeptical Maddie is skeptical. Still, if Sam cares enough to bring her to Thanksgiving, there must be something there. She nods a silent greeting to the young woman.

From:

Michael, on the other hand, isn't so sure. With a somewhat strained uncertainty, he takes the dish and replies; "Pleasure, Clementine. Michael." He turned and handed off the dish to his mother, giving her an easy way out should she needed.

He'd take the proverbial potential skank bullet. Never could be too sure with a woman who wears fishnets to dinner. "Welcome."

From:

Sam pulls her closer to him and wraps his arm around her and kisses her cheek.

"Clem, this is Michael, and His mother Madeline." He said softly.

"Mikey, Maddie this is Clementine."

From:

Clementine is preening in their general direction, her arm around Sam's neck and playing lightly with his hair. "Ohh, this is Michael?" she smirks. She knows Michael. "You didn't tell me he was so..." she gestures up and down. She smirks. No. Compunction. "Hi, hon. Been here long?" she asks Maddie?"

From:

"Long enough."

She blows a smoke ring.

From:

Michael turns his attention back to Sam; "You're late - you were supposed to be here at three."

From:

"Sorry, My car wouldn't start I left the lights on inside and Had to charge the battery."

What it's as good a reason as any and less likely to get them hazed then the truth...

From:

Nice lie there, Sam. Clementine shrugs and goes with it. "I had to get my face on," she admits. "And my shoes were stuck under something in the back of Sam's car."

...Watch her make it worse...

From:

She knows Sam. She's quite capable of guessing what got stuck where.

"Well... in any case, welcome to my home."

Her smile is still brittle, but it's there.

From:

Unfortunately, Michael knows all to well himself. Shaking his head, he gestures back toward the house. We should probably go inside..."

He stands at the back of the group, subtly herding them back towards the house.

From:

Sam leads her to the back and gives her a look that said I did have that handled babe.

"Thank you for having us over."

He looks to make sure Nate's not around.

From:

Of course he did. Damn, does she love him.

"Nice house," she admits. It's small, but better than the converted trailer she lives in. "So, Maddie - how long have you known Sam? I already know how long he's known Michael."

From:

"About a year." She takes another puff of her Marlboro. "He's one of the family now."

(Subtext: so don't hurt him, missy, or there'll be trouble.)

From:

Michael narrows his eyes at Sam behind his shades, and then at the girl... then back on Sam when she really doesn't seem to notice.

"Really, Clementine? Sam's talked about me?" Exactly how much she knows is sure to be the line of questioning of the evening. "What sort of things did he say?"

From:

"Just that we have worked together a couple times and I would ask you for advice when it was needed. Even when it came to admirals daughters."

From:

"He's said you're his best friend," Clem explains, more simply. And she's inhaling the scent of vaguely burnt turkey - which is still enough to pique her appetite. "Can we dig in right away?" she wonders.

From:

Maddie's definitely no Julia Child, but... well, she tries. She kind of feels for the girl. From the sound of things, she hasn't had too many family dinners in her life.

"If anyone wants to help me in the kitchen, we can get started as soon as you want."

From:

Even a Westen family dinner is better than nothing... singed skin and all. At least Nate isn't around to get a peek at Sam's arm candy. She doesn't reek of sugar mommy so it's tough to gauge what the angle is this time.

"Ma, Sam and I need a little bit of man time in the garage - why don't you ladies work on making the cranberry sauce look less like the can?"

From:

Sam then nods over at Mikey. "Yeah sure, I'll be right there."

He kisses Clems cheek and pats her ass a bit as he smiles.

"Why don't you go help Maddie and we'll be there shortly?"

From:

"Whatever you want, sailor." She sounds a little ridiculous again. Smirking, she starts pulling open cabinets and tossing things around, trying to find the right object with minimal fuss.

From:

If Maddie was a less world-weary cynical woman, she'd be charmed by how obviously smitten the two of them are. As it is... well, she's still sort of charmed. Not that she'll admit it.

"Serving dishes are in the cabinet on the left."

From:

Michael makes quick work of pulling Sam to the garage, waiting until a door was safely between them and his mother's entirely too selective hearing to ask; "So, what's the scam, Sam?"

He leans against the workbench, staring him down with a look he's seen entirely too many times. He's serious. "Not a pro, and I don't get the sugar mommy vibe... what am I missing?"

From:

Sam then looks at Mikey and then takes a deep breast as he looks at him and then puts his hands in his pockets.

"No, not a pro, not a sugar mommy, just a girl I'm liking Mikey. I do that sometimes."

He looks over at Mike with his side eye.

From:

He's not buying it. Clearly.

Michael nods slowly, crossing his arms at the response. "Right, Sam... look, I'm not asking you to lay it all out - but if you're bringing her here, to this house... to eat dinner with my mother... you owe it to me to tell me if you're working a scam here."

He doesn't mind what Sam does, he's very good at what he does when it comes to women - he doesn't even want to know how - but Sam Axe with a girlfriend and no ulterior motive sounds suspicious at best.

From:

"I met her in a bar, and we got close. I normally wouldn't have brought her here. But she didn't have anyone to be with so I invited her here with us. Because A. I really care about her and B. I figured between you and Maddie you could sniff out any bull shit she may be playing."

From:

The story sounds reasonable enough, for now at least.

Slowly, he nods; "You know I'll watch your back." To a fault, if the blonde was pulling any shit he'd be the first ton know - Michael was usually not one easily swayed by big breasts and little skirts.

"How long has it been?"

From:

Sam then thinks "About, seven months now. So we're taking it slowly. and see how it goes. I just want you to know and talk to her. and Stuff before it goes farther you understand."

From:

Michael uncrosses his arms, standing up straight as he offers another silent nod. "Sure, Sam." He claps a hand on his friend's shoulder, "I'll talk to her."

He knows they should head back, it's obvious what they're talking about and things are awkward enough as it is - he just hopes Mom hasn't started pushing the blonde's buttons yet. "You sure she's not attached to an agency?"

From:

"Some sort of Reno Cop and I don't think she really could solve a case really. I'm not worried about that. I don't think it's a big deal."

He said and nods and stands up straighter.

From:

Cops are easy, usually they're just trying to do their job and not get killed by some gang-banger with a gun that thinks he's invincible. As far as the brains, well... Sam did know how to pull girls that weren't too bright.

He turns back towards the door and walks away without another word on it; sure, he doesn't trust her as far as he could drag her body - but that's no excuse for being a bad (if not reluctant) host.

"Hey ma, how's the bird holding up?" He asks as he lets the both back into the kitchen.

From:

"Same as always."

It's anyone's guess what that actually means.

The bird, meanwhile, is only slightly singed. It's actually a bit better than Maddie's usual cooking efforts.

From:

And better than anything Clementine's ever made. She takes her (large) tumbler of booze and sets it down. "Coming to eat?" she asks Sam, petting the space beside her (and leaving Michael to lift the turkey).

From:

He then walks over and sits beside her. "Oh I'm not one for missing good food."

From:

'Good' is a relative term. Michael waits until everyone had taken their seats before hefting the bird on the antique platter and setting it on the table as though head of some sort of proper family.

"Alright, we want a little bit of everything? White meat, dark meat?"

From:

Proper they ain't, but they manage to make it work. Sometimes.

"Make sure you try the gravy, I made that myself."

(From a packet, but hey, it still counts.)

From:

Clementine snickers under her breath at Michael's question. She wants all of the meat. "Hmm. I like all kinds of meat."

She then squeezes Sam's thigh, because she's terrible.

From:

Sam manages no to make a fuss when she squeezes him, Only Mikey might be able to see the slight change in his face as he looks at him.

"Personally I'm a breastman."

He manages to keep a straight face.

From:

Michael tries for the straight face, but his eyebrows rise and knit together slightly no less. It's going to be a long dinner.

"Right, a little bit of everything it is." He foregoes his mother's ancient electric carving knife and goes straight for the butcher block. "So, mom... how have things been?"

From:

She rolls her eyes a little at Sam's pronouncement. Yes, they all know that.

"Oh, you know. I get along alright."

She takes one last puff of her cigarette before putting it out. (For the moment.)

"I'd feel better if you were around more though."

From:

Oh look, family drama! Clementine watches them, dishing food into her mouth with a free hand, eyebrows up, listening. And stroking Sam with her free hand.

From:

luvs_yogurt

"You know how things are, Ma..." he deflects as much as he can - trying to keep the conversation on anything but his less than perfect behavior as a son and why he didn't bring someone to dinner.

And on to Sam and his new arm candy.

After more than enough home cooking and beer, Michael and Sam take to cleaning up the mess and leave Clementine to fend for herself against hurricane Madeline.

From: