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[i][u]Location[/u]:[/i] Couch Pot-tah-toe
[i][u]Interacting With[/u]: Astrid[sup][@McHaggis][/sup] and a potato[/i][/center][hr][hr]

Unsurprising that it all came down to this.

Every minuscule atom in the universe, every ray of gamma radiation, every birth of a star - all of it came down to this particular moment.

Whether or not the news tabloids were lying about Netflix getting the six season of [i]Archer[/i] the same time it got the fifth season of [i]Bob's Burgers[/i]. Aaaaand -

Boom.

"God dammit," Michael cursed at the double buzz of his phone - it pinged with subsequent announcements for both seasons right this instant. "What am I gonna do now?" The dread of it all. Having to choose between one or the other. That felt liked asking him to choose between children, of which he'd likely choose the one he liked the most. That usually didn't translate well into shows because one, he didn't have children and two, this wasn't a life or death situation.

This, however, was deemed a vastly important situation. This was hours of his immortal life that he needed to fill. Michael stood, hands behind his back and his eyes staring into the deep snow drifts wafting outside of the bay windows. The war between nature, humanity, and the fae (the ones with sticks up their asses) raged just as much as the conflict settling in the meat of his stomach. A deep frowned pursed his lips and a Michael turned back to face the TV, finding it harder to pretend he didn't hear Astrid's voice tap away in her room.

Only one way to solve this. Hot potato. Michael slid into the kitchen on the balls of his feet, nearly crashing into the array of drawers he'd left out during his little breakfast tirade. He took a moment to rummage through the pantry for their Sack O' Potats, finding the roundest one and wrapping it in tin-foil before tossing it into the oven. After a good long few minutes of frowning into the oven, Michael deemed it hot enough to toss. With grit teeth, he unwrapped the partially backed potato, breathed in deep, and quietly sang the first verse of 'Anyway You Want It' after the twentieth bar, he stopped and squeezed the steaming potato in one hand and bit down on the side of his hand to keep the shout he gave muffled and soft.

"Alright, I... shit," he mumbled, "which hand was this. Uh. Uh. One. Two. Three. Bob's Burger--Astrid!" Michael looked up to see the girl emerge from her room. He sank his teeth into the potato, deemed it needed more salt and some butter, did just that and look at her. "I don't really need anything, but want me to come with? I could use a day out! And it's a blizzard out there, dun want you catching your death - literally. Dopplegangers are nasty subjects to mess around with." Michael leaned against the counter, hissing at the still raw feeling of his palm before giving Astrid a beaming grin.