Micky's mouth was half open eyebrows wide, Peter's head was cocked to the side as if trying to process what Mike was saying and Davy looked so pale Mike thought he was going to pass out. After a few agonizing minutes Micky spoke.
"What? I'm sorry, I thought I heard you say that you hunt monsters?" Mike nodded.
"But…but there's no such thing as monsters," Peter said. Davy sighed.
"There is," Mike answered, "ya know all the ghost stories about dead Mary and the woman in white?"
"No." Peter said.
"Oh, well, I won't get into the backstory on that, but they're real. I 'hunted' a woman in white in San Antone Texas when I was 19. I had to kill her. She killed five men."
"You hunt monsters," Davy whispered.
"Yeah." Mike said, "I just now found a pattern for theses wolf killings."
"W-what will you do i-if you find him?" Davy asked. Mike sighed.
"They only killed one person that i know if, if Sam and Anna are alive, if/when I find them I'll talk to them. See if they even know there's a werewolf-"
"Wait wait wait, stop, back up." Micky said, "I need to process this."You-" he pointed at Mike "hunt monsters." Mike nodded
"And ghosts," Mike said.
"And you didn't tell us?" Micky asked.
"Well I-I couldn't," Mike said "not really, it's a family thing and I didn't know what you guys would think. I mean it's not like I just go up to people and say 'Hi, I'm Mike Nesmith, by the way, I'm a monster hunter.'"
Micky's eyes widened as he sat down.
"Wow," he said, looking at him. "That's still pretty crazy."
"It's…" Mike started, letting out a sigh. "It's something, for sure."
"I'll say," Micky laughed and Mike nodded.
"So why didn't you tell us?" Peter asked, head still tilted toward the side. Mike let out a sigh.
"Well," he said, going back to stirring his coffee. "Most normal people don't like to suddenly learn that monsters and ghosts exist."
He shrugged and sat back down on the couch, keeping his focus down on his coffee.
"I think people deserve to live their lives in blissful oblivion, without having to know or worry about monsters or ghosts," Mike continued. "I didn't want to freak any of you out."
Davy nodded shakily as he made his way onto his feet.
"Davy?" Micky asked, standing up.
"Yeah, I'm-I'm fine," he stammered, reaching to grab his coat. "I-I think I-I-I just need a minute…"
"Davy?" Peter echoed. "Are you okay?"
"I-I'm fine…" he said, making his way to the door. He was able to get one shoe on with ease but struggled with the second one as his entire body began trembling.
"Davy," Mike sighed. "You should really rest."
"No," the Brit said, standing up again. "R-really guys, I'm…"
His voice trailed off at the end as he collapsed on the kitchen floor. As Micky and Peter rushed to him, Mike let out a sigh.
"And this is why I don't tell people," he muttered under his breath, making his way to the kitchen. He got down next to his friend and gently tapped his face trying to get him to come around.
"Davy," he called gently "Davy, can you hear me?" Davy groaned.
"Yeah, I can hear you." He whispered.
"Are you okay?" Mike asked worriedly as Davy slowly sat up.
"Yeah," Davy said, "I-I think so. What happened?"
"You passed out after Mike said he hunts monsters," Peter said.
"Oh," Davy said.
"Deep breaths Dave," Mike said "you'll be okay. Let's get you sitting down again. Micky, can you call the Giants and see if they can take our gig? And call the discotheque owner and tell them we can't-"
"We can do it." Davy said.
"Davy, you came back from who knows where looking like you just went five rounds with the wolf that's attacking people, and you passed out," Mike said.
"I passed out because my best friend just said he hunts ghosts and monsters." Davy argued, "how would you take it? I can do the gig." Mike looked at Davy and saw determination and a slight yellow tinge in Davy's normally brown eyes making them look almost hazel.
Mike frowned but nodded slowly, more confused than anything else. Davy stared at him for a moment before letting out a huff and standing.
"Here," Micky said, reaching out. "Let me help—"
"I can stand on my own, you know," he snapped, making it to his feet on his own and marching toward the bandstand, the other three watching him closely. Whatever sickness or fatigue that had been bothering him the entire morning was now entirely gone.
"Davy?" Peter asked softly. "Are you alright?"
Davy didn't answer as he instead picked up the bass guitar, wrapping the strap around him and beginning to play. Then, he put the bass away and grabbed the maracas and his tambourine.
"I can play," Davy explained, his harsh tone remaining as he played. "I can still do it, you don't have to cancel, I can still—"
He suddenly stopped himself and set the maracas and tambourine down.
"Sorry…" he said under his breath and Mike could see that his eyes were back to their normal shade, the yellow tint around them was now gone and suddenly, Davy seemed weak again. "I don't know what came over me…"
