Is the sound that pulls the old rat out of a very deep, and comfortable sleep.
"What is it, Michaelangelo," he mutters into the pillow.
"There's a girl in my bed," Mike whispers conspiratorially. "And she's not wearing any clothes." There's a tinge of shock and mischievousness in that last bit.
"That would be Melaka," replies Splinter with the unflappable tone that comes from being a not-awake single father of four.
"'Kay. But...she's hogging all the covers. Can I sleep with you?"
There's really no time for Splinter to reply, because even as Mike is asking permission, he's also burrowing under the covers and snuggling up close to his father.
It's only after the slightly room temperature touch of his son's shell and suede soft skin that Splinter begins to realize that maybe, just maybe, there might be something very very wrong going on here.
Very slowly he opens one eye, and instead of the sandy-haired white man he wished a good night to the evening before, he finds the tiny form of a smiling seven year old mutant turtle.
What comes next is a swear that would make Raphael blush, were he within ear shot...and had he kept up with his studies in Japanese.