[Michael is only vaguely aware of the Izzy-level mind-meld action he's got going for him. Everything else rattling around in his skull is too loud, what he left at home, what these so-called supreme beings require - the lik and what it all meant. It's a bad fantasy red-flick with a worse script. Parthas deities be damned, it's easy to pretend to be a god when you've got something the masses don't have.

As soon as he's no longer a captive his gait picks up haste down the path toward the chatter, the music, and the lights.

A drink would be nice, but -

THIS IS SO DAMN STUPID...

What he broadcasts to the public by way of telepathy isn't purposeful. Not even getting drunk would take the sting out of this situation.]

[If you tell Michael not to do something he's immediately going to do that something. That's a challenge, and he doesn't back down from those whether it's intellectually or physically. He's got better sense than to take a bite of foreign fruit from another planet or plane of existence but he does pluck an apple, inspect it, and put it into the pocket of his jacket.

There's a light breeze, the apples sway just slightly as it dances through the branches of the tree. He's tired of the charade, the party as fun as it seemed felt forced, and now, with questions (mostly) answered, and no way home he's gotta figure out the long-term and how to fashion some kind of communication back home: to Roswell.

He does what anyone would do in his situation, he picks up another apple - this time without even so much as touching. The apple hovers in front of his face, spins on its axis, and then propels into the nearest hard surface exploding on contact.]

[feel free to choose your own prompt from the above that I didn't use or put a hot-take / twist on one of my provided prompts to keep it interesting/spicy. can be found at doggos for chit-chat and questions.]