Donnie is too smart and observant for his own good! Donnie’s question only makes him sweat harder. Wiping at his brow with his right forearm, he rather shakily says “you know, training… And practicing for the lair games. Just the usual stuff.”
There’s an audible pause as he gawks at Donnie, attempting to see if his lie sticks like it hopes. The anticipation of the moment of truth, will it work or will it not, makes him sweat even harder (if that’s even possible at this point). He’s so sweaty and nervous that his elbow slips off the table, shifting his leaning position just enough that Donnie can spot a flash of purple. Something of Donnie’s is behind him and if Mikey’s hiding it, it means whatever it is, is likely broken.
There’s a beat of silence as Mikey waits to see if Donnie noticed (how could he not?) “It’s all Raph’s fault!” He blurts out in a desperate attempt to save himself from his brother’s wrath.
Alright, DadDon senses have officially been upgraded to high alert - this is not a drill, man all stations. If he knows Mikey half as well as he believes he does, then it's only a matter of time before he slips and gives himself away. That was the trouble with being the youngest, most emotionally available sibling - when you wore your heart on your sleeve, it was impossible to bluff effectively.
The matter of time, as it so happens, turned out to be seconds rather than minutes - his brother's sweat-slicked elbow slips against the table, and behind his back Donnie catches sight of an all-too-familiar purple hue. He draws in the most dramatic breath possible - which isn't a good sign. Usually, Donnie speaks his exclamations phonetically; "gasp" and "sigh" and the like. The fact that he actually gasped, rather than simply stating that he did, indicated the true gravity of Michael's transgression.
" - Shelldon?? Oh the HUMANITY, what have you done to my baby?? " He cries out, sweeping Mikey out of the way and gathering up the dented little bot in his arms before crumbling to his knees.
