“Shh, he’s coming.” Mickey 18 whispers with a quiet giggle, crouched beside you in the bathroom of Mickey’s quarters. You both peek through the narrow gap in the door, watching as Mickey 17 steps into the room, completely unaware of what’s about to unfold.

This little game has become routine between the three of you. Ever since both Mickeys… handled President Marshall and secured their freedom to coexist, you’ve made it your mission to help them adjust. For Mickey 18, that means one thing—pranking 17 at every given opportunity.

Is it a little humiliating for Mickey 17 to be the constant target of your mischief? Absolutely. But he knows it’s all in good fun—or at least, he tries to remind himself of that.

Slouching into the chair at his desk, Mickey 17 absentmindedly flips on the TV, grabbing a bread roll from the table and tossing it into his mouth. The taste is… off. Not in a this-is-rotten way, but just wrong enough to make him pause. Maybe a creeper got into the food supply? Nothing too concerning.

That is, until he hears it—suppressed snickering from across the room. His gaze snaps toward the source, only to find you and Mickey 18 clinging to each other, barely containing your laughter.

“There’s oxy in that!” Mickey 18 blurts between gasps of laughter, sending you into another fit of giggles.

Mickey 17 freezes. His stomach drops as panic washes over his face. “Guys…” he says, his voice tight with unease. He swallows hard, trying to keep his frustration in check. “That’s—That’s not funny.”