Spencer had seem some real weird sh*t since coming to New York for school, but as she walked past a sheep on the way to her subway entrance she had to stop.

The fast walker behind her gave her token annoyance and veered around her as Spencer took a moment to make sure she had really, actually, literally seen what she had just seen. She turned and walked back and blinked... yeah. Sheep. Did no one else see that sheep?

"Exc-" The first person dodged her like she was passing out pamphlets. Oh. Right. She took a far more aggressive tone for the next guy she tried.

"Hey! You see that sheep?" The guy gave it a cursory glance.

"Yeah? So?"

"It's a sheep."

"So?"

Again with the so!? "The f*ck is it doing?"

"Sheeping?" He shrugged and looked like her very, very much wanted to be let out of this conversation so she let the stranger go. At least he seemed to be able to see it. For as crazy as this was, at least the sheep wasn't imaginary.

"I would say the plot thickens, but there's no plot." She talked to the sheep as she approached it. Talking to animals made them like you, right? Was it going to bolt? Did it have a... a collar? or something? "You had to come from somewhere..." If it would let her, she would pet it. It was pretty fluffy looking.

Jericho's personality really lent itself to messing with people, though in a city like New York, not too many people gave a flying cow-pie. But, Jericho's mutation lent itself to a rather unique way of messing with people. Even if no one would react outwardly, they'd definitely be thinking about that cow, goat, or antelope they saw in the middle of the sidewalk on their commute. The cowboy didn't have to work today, so he slipped into the back alley behind his apartment, and...stripped naked.

Sure, he could shift clothing, but sometimes that just wasn't any fun. It was all the joy of streaking without actually streaking, until it was, of course. He'd tucked his clothes into a duffel bag which he stowed out of sight, and then the next sixty seconds were as if his body were made of play-dough and someone were making something else out of him. Today, he'd decided on sheep. They stuck out, and while not threatening, they were certainly a sight to see on the street. Once shifted, he just trotted out of the alley and started a lap around the block. A very slow, deliberate lap. He'd stop to see the sights, wait at a crosswalk, and all around just goof off to see what kind of reaction he could get.

Sure enough, he'd caught someone's attention. And to be fair...she'd caught his, too. She was quite pleasant to look at, that was for sure. 'Oh Darlin' there's always a plot. Sometimes it just takes a little time for it to pick up, is all.[/i][/color]' The voice was his usual deep, silky Texas accent but it was in her head as the sheep looked at her. He not only let her pet him, he stepped closer, even. 'Well, when a mommy sheep, and a daddy sheep love each other very much--Nah I'm just kiddin'. I actually live pretty close by. I just...may have gotten lost,' he lied, looking up at the woman with a tilt of his wooly head.

It wasn't imaginary, but she was pretty sure she'd imagined that it said something. Spencer snorted at her own joke provided by her own subconscious, and gave the sheepy a good ruffle on its wooly head. Everyone knew sheep were girls. Why had her brain given is a deep sassy Texan twang?

"A lost sheep in New York. I'm pretty sure that hasn't been happening for a good decade or so." She felt the girl's neck and found no collar. Thank f*ck. So it wasn't a pet. That meant it wasn't owned by an absolute psychopath. (Because, honestly, who would f*cking own a sheep in this town?)

"You're probably a passover lamb or... something." Spencer wasn't the religious type so she had no real concept of when Passover was. Also this was no spring chicken... spring lamb. It was a full blown fuzzy, fluffy, floof of a sheep.

Spencer gave her (him?) one last scritchy pet and backed up to inspect the stores nearby. Sewing notions? Lawyer. Sure there were delis on every corner, but delis didn't usually butcher their own mutton. "Is mutton lamb?" She asked the sheep, as if it would know. Spencer was having so many doubts about everything she knew about sheep, suddenly.

A Halal cart rolled into position for the early lunchers and Spencer wandered over to ask them about the sheep. They served lamb. Maybe it was somehow theirs?

He had to admit he was oddly enjoying the affection and having her hands on him. Part of him hoped that would continue after his jig was up and he was human again, but not many people took too kindly to being messed with the way he was doing. 'Some streaks are meant to be broken," he said casually, looking up at her to somewhat make eye contact.

'I'm a little old to be a lamb, Darlin'. And being passed over really ain't my style.' Could sheep wink? Did sheep wink? Because this one just looked up at her and winked.

'Mutton is meat from a sheep that's older than two,' the sheep explained, walking along beside her and sneaking a peek at her....figure...every now and then. 'Hang on a second. You're trying to get me killed? And here I was enjoying our time together,' he protested, somewhat afraid that she was actually going to get him butchered because if he died a sheep, he was a dead sheep.

'Besides, who's to say someone won't lie and just say I'm theirs?'

Hmm yes. He was too old to be a lamb. That's why Spencer must have moved on to talk about mutton, which she then reasoned on the sheep's behalf that was about older sheep. Spencer paused for a beat on her way to the Halal cart. Did... did she know that? Somewhere in the crevices of her head she must have. It wasn't like there was a talking sheep following her around... right?

It said to hang on, but that was just her brain making up conversation so she ignored herself for a moment to talk to the guys in the food cart.

"Hey, uh. Do guys know of anyone who has sheep around here?" It was going to take more explaining than it was worth so she pointed at the sheep in question. "It's lost."

"Why do you think that? Doesn't look lost to me?"
"Yeah it's just kinda standing there."

Spencer opened her mouth. And then shut it. Were sheep more common than she was giving them credit?

"Why is no one weirded out by this sheep? Sheep don't just lurk in the subway. I have literally never seen a sheep in person in city limits except--" An idea. A terrible wonderful idea. "Except for in filming." She breathed her revelation and looked around quickly identifying which studios were nearby. The Late Show! If she was returning their sheep, maybe they would give her an interview or at least let her skulk around backstage!

"Can I buy a bunch of just lettuce? For the sheep." Spencer put it on her credit card and turned around to the sheep. She narrowed her eyes at him... her... again, she questioned her sanity a bit. Didn't rams have horns?

She narrowed her eyes at it. "Okay, fluffy, it's you and me. You're gonna be a nice sheep and follow the lettuce." She held out a fresh green leaf with as little of her hand exposed to potential sheep teeth as possible. "See? Nice juicy lettuce. Come with me and let's go see if you belong on network TV." She took a few steps and produced another leaf. Would he follow? If so she was going to see how many steps she could get out of him as she walked with salad bribes. Alll the way up to the loading dock of the Late Show, if he'd follow.

Jericho had to admit the exchanges with the woman and unexpecting passers-by were...amusing. Like no one really did care that a random sheep was roaming the city. He wasn't the sharpest knife in the spoon drawer, but from this, he was able to surmise that maybe this young lady wasn't from around here either.

'It's New York City, Darlin. You could be on fire and nobody would bat an eyelash. I take it you ain't a local neither," he said with a dry mind-laugh. 'You're reachin', Darlin'. But I kinda like that,[/font]" he said with a nod of his sheepish head.

Right. It was the lettuce he was going to be following. As if. But the important thing was, he supposed, that he was going to follow the pretty lady and her...lettuce. He approached, and very daintily nibbled at the lettuce, taking care to eat around her fingers. He wondered if he shifted back, would she still be willing to feed him. Maybe time would tell, if he didn't wind up in Hollywood or on a sandwich before the day was out.

'Pretty sure I ain't lucky enough to wind up on TV but...I can't say I'd mind comin' with ya so....lead the way Sweetheart.' With that, he followed her like the obedient little sheep he was.

Spencer hesitated again. She absolutely would have thought "I could be on fire and no New Yorker would care," but she knew where she was from... Her suspicions were getting too hard to ignore about this sheep. And yet... it was a sheep. Sheep didn't just do things on their own, right? So. It had to go somewhere.

She led them both to the back side of the show building, stuffing lettuce in the sheep's face the whole time as bribes or threats, she wasn't sure which. One quick crane of the neck showed no one holding up a helpful "reward for lost sheep" sign, so Spencer rang the backstage doorbell after cajoling the sheep up the ramp.

The backstage manager opened the door. Looked at her. Looked at the sheep. Tried to close the door again. Spencer stuffed her boot in the way just in time to get it cracked between the door and the frame.

"Ahhh-I have a lost animal. I thought since it was so close it might have come from here-ish?" She squinted through watering eyes, unwilling to admit defeat.

"Lost? No one lost any animals."

Someone further in the building said something that made the manager turn her head and raise her eyebrows.

"Are you sh*tting me?"

A d-list actor known for his car driving movies, who was more muscle than skill, came to smile over the stagehand's shoulder. Spencer's smile turned up to 11.

"You're with the talent portion of the show?"

"S-Spencer and her swing dance sheep, yep." SWING DANCE? FUUUUUDGE. She just wanted in!

"C'mon, Darla. Swing dancing sheep is in the line up. I saw it myself." He put his hand on the small of Spencer's back and Spencer waggled a little lettuce for her sheep to follow them through the backstage door.

The sheep followed, caring even less about the lettuce than he had before. Could sheep have dreamy expressions? Because at this moment, Jericho probably did, prancing freely along behind her; he didn't need to be coerced, not in the slightest, but he was getting his fill of salad for the week so he couldn't really complain about that either, could he? After all, he had said something about needing to eat healthier.

He watched the exchange; Jericho couldn't quite grasp what exactly had happened but '[/i]Damn you're good, Darlin'...[/i][/color]"

Swing dance...sheep? Okay then. He really didn't like this Hollywood-wannabe asshole muscling in on his now-mark, but he guessed he would get over it as he followed very closely behind them, taking the lettuce completely and rubbing his head against the now empty hand. He then moved so he was walking along the other side of Spencer, occasionally rubbing his head against her hand to show that she didn't need no stinking lettuce. She had him.

As they walked, the sheep would glance over at the dude, his eyes narrowed. While it could be threatening, this was lessened by the fact that he was still, indeed, just a fluffy white sheep. Once they made it through the backstage door, and they were very well where they needed to be, Jericho turned his mental focus on the guy.

'Hands off, Asshat. I seen her first!' He flashed the dude a discreet look, and the guy turned pale. "That...that sheep...it just talked...it talked!" He grew hysterical as Jericho flashed him a glare. He backed up, tripping over his own feet and falling on his ass. But that didn't stop him; he scrambled backwards and turned around, nearly tripping over himself again to get as far away from there. 'You better run, you Hollywood asshat...' he growled in the guy's head as he made tracks to get out of that room.

'So...swing-dancin' huh? I got a little rhythm in me. Think you can keep up, Darlin'?" The sheep winked.

They were having a good time touching in the very PC, but indicative of future promises kind of way. Mr. Drives Fast was very receptive. Until he wasn't. For some reason, his cheeks blanched. And he explained in a stammer.

>"That...that sheep...it just talked...it talked!"

"That- that's me! It's a ventriloquy thing. Did you see my lips move? It's super convincing isn't it?" She bubbled up her explanation, but he was already backing away, turning, and running.

"Macho man my @ss." The door swung shut behind him and Spencer deflated. Now she was on the hook for a swing dancing sheep on television somehow? How did she get herself into these things? "Who's afraid of a sheep?" Spencer huffed and put her hand back into place on the ruff of her sheep's neck.

He spoke to her, then. Definitely not ventriloquy. Definitely not what she would have thought. She groaned as the realization of what was going on washed over her and let her forehead fall against the poofy, floofy wool. He had to be a mutant. She'd just kidnapped a mutant... with lettuce.

The sheep winked at her. IT WINKED.

"Listen here you little sh*t, I know you're not a sheep so you can drop the act." She hooked her fingers under his sheepy chin ensuring eye contact was maintained between them. "I may have gotten us into this, but you are gonna get us out of it. By dancing on national television. As a sheep. No funny business." And then, as an afterthought. "And! You owe me one." Mr. Furiously Fast had been promising things no sheep could live up to.

'Apparently? That guy,' Jericho commented with a shake of his sheepy head. 'What a loser.'

She put her hand on his neck, and then her forehead was against his, and he was really wishing he weren't a sheep right now. But damn it, that's just how these things went sometimes. And then she called him a little s*** and wasn't being very nice, though...honestly she could be as mean as she wanted, he'd just lay on the charm once he wasn't a sheep anymore. Or he could start that now.

'Act? I mean I been talkin' to ya this whole time. You're the one that tried to give me to a food truck, and yet. I stuck around.' The sheep stuck out his tongue. 'Yeah, I can get us outta this, Darlin'. Don't you worry. I can get us out of this, and I can dance, though it'll be different as a sheep.'

Jericho nodded. 'No funny business, and I do owe you one. And Darlin'...I always repay my debts. Just...wait til we get out of this, and everything will come to light, okay? You're gonna have to trust me.'

The sheep gave a sigh, mentally preparing himself for what was to come. He was going to have to dance as a sheep. Yee-freaking-ha.

Apparently that guy was afraid of sheep now. Somehow that realization brough Spencer back from the depths of despair that threatened to swallow her whole. It wasn't her versus sheep. It was Sheep and Spencer vs the world. "I hope he develops a phobia." She snorted into her hand, a less than ladylike way to handle things, but this was a sheep she was talking to. Judge not lest you get sheared or something. She was pretty sure that was patently biblical.

Somehow Spencer was pretty sure her "one" and his "one" were of different calibers. But if was going all Lannister about it, she'd get her due. Eventually. One way or another.

"Bangability factor?" Spencer nodded off to the side, not so subtly, at a co-ed type who walked in wearing tap shoes. They may as well have fun, right?

The waiting room was filling up with other talentos, the closer to go time they got. Spencer enjoyed having a secret partner to ridicule or salivate over others with.

"You think that monkey talks?" She was mostly on the floor, one arm around the sheep and having a grand old time whispering between the two of them despite the looks it got her. Until, of course, the room started thinning out again.

Eventually, it was their turn. The stage manager came for her and Spencer, feeling a bit lightheaded and giggly about the silliness of everything, stuffed down her reservations.

"C'mon, sheepy. Let's go dance." Was this gonna be a, she takes the front legs situation? Or a just watch him do his thing? It was far too late to ask now!

The sheep laughed, though out loud it was more of your basic 'baaaa....' In Spencer's head, however, she heard the actual hearty, deep Southern-fried laugh. 'Oh I'm sure I made certain of that, Darlin'..."

Honestly he didn't know what she meant by owing her one, but he only hoped they had the same idea. After all, he knew what he was wearing under the sheep form. Jericho was actually enjoying the time they were spending together now, her sitting next to him, arm around him, and looking like a damn fool talking to a sheep. But the joke was on everybody else because that sheep just so happened to be good company.

'On looks alone, I'd give her a solid six,' he commented to answer her question. 'Any other dancing shoes I woulda given an extra point or two on account of likely being more flexible. So...I'd do her, but not when I'm sitting next to a much better option." He would have shrugged, but...that was hard to do for a sheep.

'I think if that monkey hears you talking shit, it's going to start throwing shit, and I don't want to see that," he teased lightly as he leaned into her a bit. Until...

'Welp, not quite how I'd expected to be dancing with a pretty lady today, but...let's go make you famous. When the music starts, I'm jumping up on my hind legs. I should be okay for balance, but bare with me. I'm used to having toes when I do this.'

Suddenly, there they were. All eyes on them. Music started playing and Jericho jumped up on his hind legs just as he'd told her all of fifteen seconds ago. He was shaky at first, but as time went on, he got comfortable, found his rhythm, and....he was dancing as a freaking sheep!

Spencer found herself snorting more and more. A better option? She'd sort of opened that door when she brought up "bangability," but Spencer was a tad surprised that the sheep... banged people?

Oh. Right. Mutant. She somehow kept forgetting that part when it was such a floofy lil cotton ball in front of her. But apparently, he had toes. If it was a he. Was Spencer assuming his gender because of the voice? She was still almost sure sheep were girls.

It was this conundrum that kept Spencer's brain occupied as they were escorted into the wings outside f the stage. She allllmost even forgot she was about to make an absolute fool of herself. Was she supposed to get her network's permission before going on TV? Well it was too late now! The stage manager queued them and, for one brief moment Spencer worried in an insecure way that she might not be tall enough, pretty enough, skinny enough, or any other number of enoughs. She hadn't even been able to check her make up. Maybe she should have rather than making all those jokes...

"Here goes everything." She whispered to her sheep as they walked out together.

There was an announcement. A question about where she got such a sheep, which she deferred with a shy smile and some eyelashes. Then. Go time.

There was a crowd. Spencer had dealt with crowds at a smaller scale. Cameras in a smaller studio. It was... much. Her head tried to swim at the sudden undeniable presence of so much going on and so many people.

But the sheep was on his hind legs and he'd said he might be shaky. It wouldn't do to leave a sheep hanging. And then seeing those shaky hooves give effort to keep time... it was funny. The whole day was weird and funny and Spencer was grinning like a fool. She even attempted a spin for her sheepy pal to make the swing dance more swing-y. A little kick flare from her. The song wasn't long. They clearly didn't expect this to go on for long.

"I'mma dip you." She whispered the warning almost in time with starting the motions. Sheep... didn't really bed that way? But she would give it the old college try for a finale, so long as he didn't freak out.

Showtime. The song kicked off, and it didn't take Jericho too long to get the hang of dancing as a sheep, though Spencer had to lead. He was shaky for a little while, but he managed, and there was even a spin tossed in there for good measure. The actually weren't doing that bad!

"I'mma dip you," was whispered and then she started to.

'Okay, but less is more. Just make it look good; I weigh like two hundred pounds like this don't go all the way do--" She dipped him all the way down, and as predicted, she couldn't hold him up and the two of them crumbled onto the floor in something that was less fit for a talent competition and more suited to a ViewTube Fails compilation. He stood to his four feet, giving a courtesy 'baaaa' to let everyone know that he was in fact, okay.

'You're good. We're good. Not my first big spill. You okay?" he said as he started to trot offstage, looking back to make sure she was following, but also trying to mask that he was favoring his back right ankle. It hurt, but he'd be better once he shifted back; it wasn't a major injury. However he didn't have his clothes with him.

'Hey, Darlin? I got a favor to ask...Mind walkin' with me back to my apartment? I kinda sprained my ankle and I can't uh...I can't shift back in public. I'll owe you two instead of just one, alright?"

She thought she had it, she almost had it. But hooves were slippery and a tilted sheep was no help to her balance, let alone its' own balance. The sheep hit the stage and Spencer fell on top in a heap. She scrambled up and off, stumbling worried and laughing even as he was already reassuring her.

"I'm okay, sheepy." The host was there with his hand on her elbow and she regretted trying the dip if only because he was fussing over her in front of everyone. She reassured him and nearly stumbled again as she followed the traitor sheep that had abandoned her on stage.

Spencer’s world was starting to spin, but she waved off the backstage medic who didn’t seem all that concerned anyway. It hadn’t been a big spill, but the optics were bad if they didn’t at least offer to look the human over.

There wasn’t really anything wrong with her besides the fact that she was talking to a sheep and the sheep was talking back. She absolutely wasn’t having a cancerous relapse or anything. Spencer disbelieved and threw herself more fully into the here and now as they went back to the waiting room for her things.

"We’re not gonna win so there really isn’t a point in waiting around.” Spencer tried to size up which ankle was tweaked, but again it wasn’t like she was going to be able to do much about it. "I’ll walk with you, boo. Just don’t expect me to carry you.” And, yeah. He could owe her two. Two was better than one.