Mort shrugged, in a what can you do? sort of way. He hadn't been like regular boys even BSWD (Before Shit Went Down). Then again, even then Mort had been vaguely aware that 'normal' was just an act, a little convention people kept so they could get along in the world without anybody breaking their stride. Mort liked being odd. Nowadays, ASWD, the notion of 'normal' had been unceremoniously postponed, but people still gave Mort odd looks. He was fine with that.
He gave Harlow a shrewd look when their faces were close by, almost intimate, but the moment passed when Mort pulled back. He grinned, softly singing: "You know this is thriller, thriller night..." And noone's gonna save you from the monster about to strike... Good song. Apt lyrics. Too bad MJ hadn't been alive to see the end of the world. Mort felt he'd have appreciated it. Crazy SOB.
"Ain't been to the bar much," Mort said conversationally, blowing out a dark plume of smoke. "The floor never struck me as particularly comfortable. Wha's livin' in Madison Square like?"