His brows rose as I wondered just where the heck that had come from. Or who the heck Baxter Stockman even was.
Damned fragmented memories. I struggled to remain cool and calm as the Anisau glanced at me. How was I going to explain this?
“Wasn’t he the mad scientist in the Teenage Ninja Turtle movies?” Sid asked.
Okay, what in the heck did I say now? I had no idea what he was talking about. I had no idea what I was talking about, either, but all I could say was, “Yeppers.”
“I streamed all those movies and shows back when I lived in that realm. They were fun,” he said.
“Streamed?” I blurted out again before I could stop myself.
“Yeah.” He raised a brow. “I didn’t think Akolachians spent a lot of time in the human realm.”
I scrambled for a response. “Unlike most of my people, I am an adventurous type.”
That seemed to satisfy him. At least, he went back to grabbing fingerfuls of spices, leaving me contemplating that staying hidden was going to be more difficult than I’d thought. Particularly if memories kept surfacing at inconvenientmoments without any context. Teenage turtle movies and shows? When had I watched those?
“Here.” He handed me a jar of spice. “Put some in.”
“How much?”
His mouth twisted. “About three large pinches.”
I added five for good measure. It was obvious he knew something about cooking. It confirmed my impression that the big shifter was going to be full of surprises.
We labored until the parade of food trays subsided. The students hauling them were still covered in soot from the eruption, and the kitchen supervisor started sending them off for showers and some much-needed rest.
He approached us and offered a tired smile. I noticed he stopped a good distance from Sid, as though he expected him to convert to a monster in an instant.
“Thanks for your help,” he said. “You guys have had a long night, go and get some sleep.”
“I enjoyed it,” Sid stated. “Been a while since I did any cooking.”
The super eyed him. “Those spices were your idea?” When the Anisau nodded, he said, “I tried a couple, they were really good. Can you tell me what you did?”
Sid did so, although I wondered how much use “a pinch” would be when you compared the size of his fingers to everyone else’s, but I guessed the guy would adjust.
The supervisor hesitated when he was done, but then, he offered, “If you want to spend some time in the kitchen, volunteers are always appreciated.”
Sid’s eyes lit yellow, and the other man took a small step back. But all the Anisau said was, “Thank you, I’d really enjoy that.”
The building was definitely quieter when we left the cafeteria. The window at the end of the hall showed the sky lightening with the dawn.
“So, if I’m Baxter,” Sid said as we climbed to the fifth floor. “Who are you?”
My reply was immediate. “Michelangelo.” My stride hitched. Both my mother and my brother had called me that. How many alter egos could one guy have?
The Anisau arched a brow. “You refuse to be serious and are good at wisecracks. Do you love pizza, too?” he asked as we reached the landing.
Again, I had no idea. But I sketched up a grin, and said, “Life is too serious, so yeah.”
Sid huffed a laugh. “Okay, then. Michelangelo it is.”
I kept the stupid, cheerful expression despite the fact my head ached and exhaustion pushed at me. When we entered the room, I moved to look out the window.
The meadow was a trampled mess, but the refugees were gone. A few students walked the grounds, picking up debris. My eyes fastened on a familiar form collapsed on the bench.
Breana.
