At one point during Angel's convoluted explanation, Michelangelo looked at her. He hasn't blinked since.

Is she trying to get me killed, or what?

Seriously. Like Splinter doesn't already know Mike lied about breaking up with her, now he knows he's responsible for giving away the general vicinity of their lair. Yeah, at the time Mike hadn't thought much about it because it was Angel, and she already knew where the garage is and stuff, but in light of everything else Mike has screwed up lately? Wow. Splinter will kill him.

A tiny smile creeps onto his face.

Splinter will kill him. He has only to wait for it. And really, what's the worst that can happen? He just finished a nice long session with Bishop.

Maybe something else will happen to pile on to the already-comedic pile of Reasons for Splinter to Kill Mikey. He almost hopes it does. Then he can watch it through a veil of numbness like it's a sitcom and...well, not laugh, but be amused.

The smile is gone, and Mike again has the sensation that his own body isn't real. This is all too weird.

Splinter is rendered speechless, first by the effort of sorting out all of the twists and turns of Angel's story, and then by what he learns once he gets it all unraveled.

All those years of caution, and carefully training them to stealth, and worrying about their security... and it is all thrown away for a CD, Splinter marvels, in the one part of his brain that isn't totally consumed with fear and the returning tide of his own -- extremely righteous and well-deserved! -- anger.

"Pleasedon'tbereallymad!" Angel cries, throwing herself onto her knees with a splash and trying to imitate the way Mike did it when he showed her how you're supposed to bow to a Sensei Ninja Master. She really had been paying attention! "That was months ago and I've never told a soul and never tried to even come until just now, and he's been missing and captured and Casey acted like I couldn't go and see him because he's hurt. It's just that I really like to hang out with him and he totally gets me, just like he gets everybody, because that's his gift... one of many, and... um. Mike never showed me how long the bowing has to be."

She peers through the crusty mess of her pigtails and gives him a pathetic smile. "And, Mister Splinter? My face is like an inch away from poo water. See, that's how much love and respect I have for you."

"For something like this," Mike says hoarsely, the first he's spoken since Splinter's arrival, "you usually get down flat on your face like you're waiting for the deathblow to fall." Then, like it's an afterthought, he whispers, "And it's not poo water, it's runoff."

"You want me to put my face in the runoff?" Angel squeaks with dismay.

Splinter is too appalled to appreciate the gesture, though he's sure it will strike him as very amusing later -- the contrast between Angel's strikingly brash, American way of presenting herself, and the attempt to adopt a traditional pose of respect and apology. The thing that catches in his mind is the realization that, while he's taught this gesture to his sons (and been the recipient of it many times, as is only right for the head of a clan), he's never before had a dogeza offered to him by someone with hair! And hair that is so filthy that it is actually being somewhat improved by being dragged into the runoff. "Stop!" he says sharply, without meaning to sound so harsh.

He closes his eyes and offers up a quick prayer to Master Yoshi, for guidance. Though I am not sure that you could help me much in this, Master, as you had no children...much less would-be girlfriends for those children! Then he fixes a stern gaze on the pair at his feet. "Angel. While we are glad to see you, and grateful for your concern, you must go home. This is not a safe area for you."

"So?" Angel counters. "I ain't afraid." She scrambles back to her feet but keeps her head bowed, scowling unhappily at the water. "Anyway, why are you guys staying here if it's so dangerous? I'm surprised you haven't kicked their sorry asses, already. Sorry! I mean, butts!" The sodden teenager shoots a quick glance at Mike, wondering if she is still allowed to say 'asses'. She is at the old rat's mercy, after all, which leaves her in a very odd position. She is not used to caring one way or another whether or not she is meeting any adult's expectations, but now it seems important not to displease him.

"Angel."

This tone is so rare to hear from Mike that this might be the only time it's been heard. His voice is even to the point of being nearly flat, with minor inflections in his speech that give it a slightly scolding edge. That should drive her insane, but it might also drive her away.

"This isn't a joke. The guys that got me know about you. They're really powerful and so freakin' evil you won't be able to believe evil like them really exists--and that's me saying that. I mean, we were lucky to get away with our lives. Whether or not you're afraid right now has jack shit to do with anything, because as long as you're close to me, you're in danger. The best possible thing you can do is pretend you never met any of us. I'm really sorry I got you into this. Please go home."

He says all this as if reading out loud from a cue card, and only afterwards does it really hit him that he actually said it all. He never wanted to hurt her, but hurting her is better than putting her through what he went through at Bishop's hands. She'll be able to move on with her life. After all, she's nearly as tough as she thinks she is.

Splinter is strangely relieved at this abrupt and definite break-up. At the same time, it seems like this might be the sort of thing that does not need his presence. His knowledge of romantic relationships can be foggy, based on years-old memories from another life and a hearty dose of his 'stories', but he's fairly certain that things are going to get ugly, and loud.

He calculates the noise angry teenagers can make, multiplies it by the tendency of the tunnels to echo, and doubles it for the early hour. The sound will almost carry all the way to the subway station on Tenth, he thinks.

While his sons might get some amusement out of the idea of disturbing the morning commuters, Splinter does not. What's about to happen will not require a chaperone, but it might require someone with a greater skill at handling angry people.

"I will send Raphael to escort you home," he tells Angel, aware that she will not take this well, but too concerned with his little family to care much. "Michelangelo, as soon as your brother and Angel are gone, you will come to my room and we will talk."

He turns away, trusting that Angel is too angry to watch him go, and that Michelangelo, no matter what may have happened to him recently, can still defend himself against an angry girl of about half his weight.

Angel shifts to take in Michelangelo as he starts speaking. As he is pleading his case in that lifeless tone, she keeps her chin slightly downcast but lifts her eyes to look him in the face boldly. As he concludes, she gives no response -- mostly because she doesn't trust her voice not to crack. Instead she says nothing, standing with her back straight and her fists clenched at her side One strap of her filthy backpack is clenched in the white-knuckled grip of her left hand, and once again she forgets to keep it lifted out of the 'runoff'. Even as Splinter is neatly wrapping up the troubling matter of their short-lived relationship, she doesn't look at him or watch him go. She looks at Mike the whole time, even when her dark brown eyes have become brimming pools and she must erect a granite jaw and grim expression to compensate.

It's only after Splinter moves away that she dares to speak, using that scratchy 'trying to sound older' growl that still slips out sometimes when she is feeling defensive or like she has something to prove. "You say all that because Mister Splinter was standing over you?"

She doesn't ask like she is expecting it to be true.

Mike can't pretend Splinter's presence wasn't part of it, since Mike couldn't get much lower in his sensei's eyes right now and any show of trustworthiness is worth something. Dumping his girlfriend, or even pretending to, just to please his father would be a pretty nasty thing to do. The truth, though, is that Splinter's presence only hastened the inevitable. The cracking of bones spoke more loudly than any lecture Splinter or Leo could possibly give. Next time, Mike will call their bluff on that sound, and next time, they might actually produce the real Angel. Telling her all this might help her understand, but it also might make her fear for her life, and he doesn't want to push his fears onto her. He only wants for her to be safe, and for that, she only needs to go away.

"I'm sorry," he says again, more quietly.

Raph is on center of the mat with his sai in hand when Splinter returns. He's doing katas, if anyone were to ask, though really he's focused wholly on miming horrific mutilation rather than perfecting his form. He's midway through a messy mock-disembowelment when he sees his sensei out of the corner of his eye, and he freezes for moment before straightening and turning to face him. The first thing he notices is that Splinter is alone, and he tenses in involuntarily.

"Everything okay?"

"Not yet," Splinter says absently. He is still trying to wrestle down his own anger -- how many times has he told his sons that strong emotion does not belong in the dojo? "Angel is here, out in the tunnels. Please go and escort her home. And remind Michelangelo to come and see me." There is a great deal that needs to be clarified, and Splinter cannot do so. Questions like What was she doing? and Why did she come now? are at the top of the list of things that Splinter has no heart to try to explain right now. So he gives Raphael no chance to ask these questions.

He turns away, intent on going to his room and calming himself for what will likely be a tumultuous conversation with Michelangelo. But he pauses on his way out and looks over his shoulder to say, "And Raphael, please be as...careful...as you can manage, with both of them."

Ah. So Splinter knows Angel's here. He wonders what else Splinter knows. Whatever happened, the rat doesn't seem happy. Or calm, though he hides it well.

The idea of "escorting" that bedraggled girl home isn't at all appealing, especially when he suspects it'll be more along the lines of dragging her home, but he doesn't balk at Splinter's orders. He can handle one scrawny girl, no matter how stubborn she is. What really concerns him is Mikey. He knows Angel is tied in somehow with the events of his brother's capture, but he doesn't know exactly how, and Splinter's admonition to handle them carefully doesn't make him feel any more at ease.

"Yes, Sensei," he replies seriously, his eyes following after Splinter as the rat exits the dojo. As soon as he's gone, Raphael sprints across the lair to the exit, intent on getting to Michelangelo as soon as possible. It's still fresh in his mind how quickly he disappeared the last time.

"Not as sorry as you will be," she says, soft and fierce. Angel is deeply disappointed by them both.

"Not as sorry as I am for you! God, I'm actually HOPING you are just fucked up in the head from being caught by evil and freakin' powerful dudes, and that's why you are suddenly playing me with all of this white knight bullshit. Because it's sad, Mike. What, you can't even hang out with a girl without the bitch getting killed? April's doing all right for herself, last I checked. Nice job. Getting married. Except for getting shot, it's a happy fucking life! Right? You do realize that I got way more combat skills than her? I mean, I like her fine. I'm just saying that I been kick-boxing and doing mixed martial arts longer than I've known how to read. And if we got in a cage fight, I would destroy her. So like, you mean it's dangerous to go out with a ninja? OH MY GOD, HUGE SURPRISE! And PRETEND WE NEVER MET is the best you can do? What is this glass half empty bullshit? This neurotic, patronizing... I'll tell you what it is! It's FUCKING SAD!"

She is storming away from him now, and making as much noise as possible as she hollers back to him, "You wanna hide all your life and never love nobody? FINE! I'll die young with or without you, asshole! I thought you had more guts than that!"

Apparently she isn't waiting for Raphael.

"Wait!"

If Angel wanted a reaction, she got one.

Part of him is relieved at a reasoning that seems to beat Splinter's, and her own admission that she's okay with the risk. Part of him is still not okay with putting her at risk. Most of him, though, is being yanked toward her on a chain at a million miles an hour by that reminder that there he will never, ever have another shot at this--not with anyone else, and not with her. His feet splash through the runoff as he darts after her, starting just a few seconds late but easily catching up.

"Angel, wait!"

Raph arrives on the scene out of breath, and strongly regretting his sprint. Because from what he heard, this is a truly awkward time to be the third party. He slows to a halt making, no effort to be stealthy as Mike goes sprinting after Angel. The girl probably won't get far, but Raph is ready to follow if she does. Meanwhile he just stands there, torn between wanting to keep Michelangelo in his sights, and wanting to give him privacy, and his indecision makes him look even MORE awkward than he feels.

There have not been a ton of relationships before Mike, and very few that were serious. It has only just occurred to her that at the end of every one (at least until today), she had the advantage of being the 'dumper' rather than the 'dumpee'. Angel doesn't care much for having the tables turned, to say the least.

Angel knows the ninja turtle can be fast as a bat out of hell if he wants to be. There is no reason to stop or even slow down for him. She does cast him an aggressive look and spit like a boy into the water between them. "Unless this is you coming to your god damned senses," she blazes, "we got nothin' to say!"

Come to his senses? Exactly which part of this mess contains any sense whatsoever? Here’s Angel, beautiful as she ever was—okay, well, not so much, but he can remember what she usually looks like—but mostly the coolest person he knows, who laughs at most of his jokes and spazzes out with him over, well, the kind of things he spazzes out over. When she hasn’t been his girlfriend, she’s been his best friend. She used to be the best thing going on in his life when Leo was gone. Times were tough, but never tough enough that she couldn’t make him forget what was going on at home.

At home, where absolutely no one thinks this is a good idea.

He can’t go back to Splinter and just pick up the lie where it left off. He’s got enough crap to sort through without juggling stories.

Mike lets out a breath. “Okay. But I gotta come clean with my family. They’re not gonna like it, but they gotta at least accept it. Well, except Leo. I don’t really give a shit what he thinks.”

Come clean? Okay, Raph knew he was out of the loop there for a while, absorbed as he was in his own personal crisis, but how the HELL did he miss something like THIS? Sure, Mike told him he'd made out with Angel. But he thought like, maybe they kissed once or something. This…this sounded like she was actually his girlfriend.

His brain could scarcely process the idea. And yet… she'd come all the way here, apparently splashing through every pile of muck she could find along the way, to see if Mike was okay. He also knew that before things got so fucked up around here, his brother was either messaging, talking on the phone, or texting her like every spare moment. And here they were, seeing each other for the first time since Michelangelo's rescue…with Raphael right here to witness it. Talk about awkward. More than anything else, he wanted to disappear, but even if he ducked around a corner or something, the way these tunnels carried sound, he'd still hear every word. And he wasn't about to go as far away as he'd need to for them to have real privacy. Still, this didn't seem like the best time to interrupt. Making a snap decision, he stepped back into the thicker shadows along the tunnel wall. He'd give them a minute to figure things out before he stepped in.