This wasn’t a beach in Miami, wasn’t a boardwalk in Ocean City, smelling like sea water and cotton candy, and it was in no way, shape or form a party in New York that he was crashing or attending by invitation sent out by one of the many seedy acquaintances that he’d gathered over the years spent as a teenage street urchin. This was a karaoke bar in an alternate, creepier version of Los Angeles and he was dragging Kira to one of the tables situated in the middle of the room.
And the Kira who he was dragging just so happened to be a real life Power Ranger, and he could vividly remember what it was like to sit on the floor and watch Power Rangers on TV before going to school in the morning. Thinking about that and then glancing over at her next to him, the laugh came out all on its own. If he’d told Victor that he was one day going to be friends with a Power Ranger, he would have sent him in to the nearest hospital to be checked over for possible brain damage.
Everything sane had unwound itself. There were some things that caused him to miss home more, and this, wasn’t one of them.
He led her to an empty table and detached himself from her arm. Bart slid the chair out from underneath the table and motioned for her to sit. “You want anything?”