Previously on Scorpion...
I'm sorry. Who are you?
I'm Patty, Alderman Dodd's intern.
I'd left extra shortbreads for your team,
but they were such a hit, I need all of them
to grease the wheels of the government.
Your loss, Doc. They were scrumptious.
Ralph doesn't like shortbread.
Yeah, but he sure likes her.
Agent Gallo, you're under arrest for instigating an escape.
I want a lawyer.
You put Scorpion up as collateral?
The garage, everything?
It was either that or leave you in prison.
So, counselor,
you've reviewed Agent Gallo's case.
How would you approach his defense?
This case isn't about Agent Gallo.
It's about sticking it to the government.
So...
thank you for coming in.
You had an offer for three years?
Oh.
Well, you should've taken that.
Trials are stressful.
No injuries at all?
All that ice, never slipped once?
Norwegian government's got deep pockets.
You know, it's been many years since I tried any cases,
but I'm confident I could try this one and win.
And the price is certainly right.
Oh, uh, sorry, got a ride.
No, don't go. We're just getting started.
We'll get you home, no problem.
Oh, you don't understand. I drive for a rideshare.
And there's no way I'm giving up an airport run.
I don't care.
We don't plea.
My client's not doing a day in prison.
Sorry.
It's walk or nothing.
Call me when you're ready to drop the charges.
My apologies, gentlemen, I'm...
Oh. Oh, you can't afford me.
Well,
that's two weeks down the tubes.
Nothing to show for a lawyer for Cabe.
We need a great one
if we're going to prove that Cabe isn't responsible
for Collins escaping.
None of these jokers get what's at stake.
No one cares like we do.
I care... about getting things done.
Hey, Patty.
We have business.
My office?
"Her office"?
I better go.
She angers easily.
Guys, we're gonna find a lawyer.
If you stay positive, stay present,
the future will take care of itself.
Which could be 25 in Leavenworth.
That wasn't positive. Oh!
Here is some positivity.
We're gonna get churros from L.A. Churro Fest.
We can't afford them.
You went to Churro Fest 2017,
didn't get a single deep-fried treat?
Well, we did buy a single one.
We went foursies on it.
Yep.
We've been going foursies on a lot of things lately.
Diagnostics on the 3-D printing are almost done.
We are good to go on the Air Force gig.
Let's pack up.
At least we had a-a nice little date
before the daily grind.
Mm.
You disagree?
We may define the word "date" differently.
I see it as the two of us,
a restaurant, a bottle of wine...
I see it as that, too.
But if the recent past is any indicator,
Happy would be at the table with us.
Well...
not necessarily. Really?
'Cause last week, she came with us to the science museum;
Saturday, the arboretum;
last night she watched Fletch with us in the garage,
after everyone else left.
Well, I-I guess we're just, uh, fun.
Yeah. I guess I-I'm confused why she's third-wheeling so much,
and where I'm really lost is why
you're okay with it.
Mm, I don't know. I... just am.
I'm gonna talk to her about it.
Oh, no. Bad idea.
Well, I'll speak to her adult to adult.
I know her.
She won't react well.
Okay, see, now you're protecting her feelings over mine.
Do you not... do you not see this?
I see that now.
We'll discuss it. Later.
I've been pouring over the statutes
for community program funding,
after-school program funding. I even did a search
for subterranean windowless space program funding.
Doesn't exist.
I was joking.
It's unbecoming. Continue.
We should be able to draw
from four different earmarks
in order to attain our $6,000 science club budget.
This may hold up.
I'll submit to the board after school.
Speaking of which, I've never had a tardy before,
and I'm not starting now. And you're not starting now.
Can you at least admit that you're impressed
that I'm progressing as a politician?
I'll be impressed when we're fumigating.
Hey, Patty.
Yep.
Really don't like this development.
Happy.
You have a moment to talk?
Yeah. About the drive-in tonight?
I was thinking we should bring our own snacks,
considering our finances.
We've been having a lot of fun lately, haven't we?
Yeah, it's been all right.
So, maybe, tonight, you can take a rain check,
and Walt and I just go to the drive-in alone.
Huh? We've been doing
a lot of activities together these past few weeks.
Right.
It's just for one night.
I mean, Walt and I just started dating,
so alone time is important.
Sure. I-I'm good.
Enjoy the movie.
We-we can still do the Farmer's Market on Saturday.
Can't. My schedule's full.
Happy, come on.
We are good to go, we can hit the road!
If I'm still invited.
Long drive to the jobsite.
Saddle up.
Just-- don't say it.
Nothing to say.
Except for "I told you so."
Look at over there.
It's the spot.
Just being in proximity to one of these things creeps me out.
Team Scorpion?
In the flesh.
Airman Jay Pendergraft.
Welcome to nuclear missile silo B21-240J.
Pretty name.
Uh, let's get rolling.
A few on our team have a movie to catch.
This way.
Save you, Agent Gallo.
Word from base is you're under suspension from Homeland.
That's correct,
but according to federal law,
government employees on suspension
can take freelance work from other government agencies,
provided they don't have any felony convictions.
Scorpion are freelance contractors.
Mr. Gallo is an employee of Scorpion.
He's our intern.
And a necessary team member.
Without him, we leave.
I'll run it by base.
Intern? Mm-hmm.
Even made you a badge.
"Junior Intern."
That's great.
Base described your job here as twofold:
inspect the Boreas 3 and replace all corroded hardware
with new 3-D printed replacements.
- And upgrade the launch software. - It sounds like
we're prepping it for war.
I thought they were being decommissioned.
Well, we have to make sure that they're physically
and internally stable before they're shut down.
Or they don't shut down properly.
And go kaboomski.
A terrifying thought.
Just like this elevator.
It seems very old.
Everything was new here in 1980.
Most of the companies that built the missile and the silo
are long out of business,
or we'd be ordering replacement parts from them
instead of having you print them up.
1980, I was 22 years old.
I was negative 17.
My God.
Team Scorpion, Airman Jacobs.
Airman, Cabe Gallo.
Geez. 60 megatons of nuclear destruction
controlled by a computer with less power than a Pac-Man.
Just two of you on call?
It doesn't take much to babysit this dinosaur.
All right, Happy, Sly and I will head to the missile
and begin the software update.
The first step is to access
the warhead firmware panel,
and then, create a link from the missile
to our computers in here,
then, begin uploading the new software.
Any corroded parts we find-- screws, latches--
in the firmware panel itself,
we'll call in specs to Paige, Toby and Cabe to begin printing.
Okay, let's move out.
Airman, can you show us the way, please?
You might need to run out and get us some lattes.
You know, being the intern and all.
You ever had your butt kicked by a junior intern?
Once.
Oof.
That's a lot of missile.
Just keep your eyes
in front of you, Sly. You'll be fine.
Thank you, Paige. No more distractions, please.
Okay, make sure it's flush
to prevent anything from falling in-between
the walkway and the fuselage.
Yeah, copy that.
Once you're into the panel,
it won't take long to patch in
and relay to the control center.
Understood.
Aye, aye. Waiting.
Already bored.
Your tours are just 72 hours of this?
Yeah. And this is exciting.
Rusted bolt snapped.
Got to replace it. Sly?
Half-inch bolt diameter.
Shouldn't he use a caliper?
No. I got it.
It's starting to print now.
So what, just like, day shift, night shift,
day shift...
And night shift again. Yes.
It's like that song, uh, "Nightshift" by the Commodores.
Commodores?
Were any of the members Naval officers?
Oh, guys. Come on. You don't know the Commodores?
Well, prepare to have your minds musically blown.
You want to know
what I think of when I think of the Commodores?
Harmonious interaction.
Horns, vocals,
drums, bass, guitars, all working together.
Tight-knit group.
Worked out great.
Actually, there have been
many members of the Commodores.
Probably because some of them got sick
of the others always hanging around.
Paige, I need to swap out for a one-inch wrench.
Is it okay if Walter passes that to me,
or is that too intrusive?
Guys, can we save this till later, please?
And also, comms off for five minutes
while everyone cools down.
My pleasure.
For the record, she's the one who's being ridiculous.
Uh, rocket fuel leak.
Extremely not good. We got to get the hell
out of this silo-- the fumes are gonna kill us all.
Grab the gear.
What the hell? The door's locked!
Oh, the comms are off.
They can't hear us.
How can they not hear the alarm?
? Lady ?
? You bring me up when I'm down ?
Toby, this is very loud.
He does not represent the team.
Don't listen to him, he's not full-time.
All right, you see this move?
? Gonna change my life around, yeah ?
1982, that move alone could cause pregnancy.
? Pretty lady ? ? You brought me in... ?
Uh-oh. Oh, crap.
Walter, what's going on?
Guys, open the door now! Why would they seal?
Fuel pressure's bottoming out.
Okay, I dropped the wrench
and punctured the tank, and now it's leaking fuel.
Somebody get us out of here before the vapor kills us
or the fuel's ignited!
The slightest spark could do that.
Working on the door override.
Well, you better work faster, kid,
unless you have protocol for a fuel tank eruption.
Uh, no, we don't.
It's open.
If the fuel tank blows,
does that mean the warhead blows, too?
We don't know. This has never happened before.
? Scorpion 4x04 ? Nuke Kids on the Block
== sync, corrected by elderman == @elder_man
Okay, I screwed us up, so I will unscrew us.
I don't understand how a simple wrench
punches a hole in a nuclear weapon.
They're made light and thin
so they fly faster, and it's ancient,
so it's degraded.
I'm running some quick calculations
based on the proximity to small towns and cities.
If this warhead goes off, it's millions dead?
That's where it begins.
Okay, Air Force are on their way
with a fuel team to handle
the leak and vapor issue.
ETA? Four hours.
We'll be dead well before then.
Uh, hey, you got eggs in that fridge?
Um, yeah.
She's going somewhere with this.
I think.
Why is help four hours away?
Well, an old rust pit like this
isn't exactly high on the Air Force's priority list.
Well, what if the fuel tank just empties?
If we're careful about sparks,
- it won't just blow up, right? - Wrong.
This is your, uh, fuel tank emptying.
Uh, which is bad. What's worse is
the oxidizer tank on top of it.
The more fuel that leaves the bottom tank,
the more its integrity is compromised,
and eventually, it won't be able to support
the oxidizer on top, and...
Death omelet. Make sure to wash your hands.
So drain the oxidizer, too.
The nitro tetroxide will ignite
the second it hits those vapors.
Okay, but this control center is meant
to withstand a rocket launch.
I mean, it can handle a fuel explosion.
Let's disarm the warhead and just ride it out.
No. Accessing the detonation system with our metal tools
could cause a spark and ignite the fumes.
We'd only need a wrench.
We can make a polymer one
from the 3-D printer-- it's sparkless.
In a perfect world, but those tanks will collapse
before you get the warhead disarmed.
Shut those damn Klaxons down.
Anything that old could spark and kill us all.
Well, what now?
The rocket fuel gauge is dropping dangerously low.
Okay, issue number one-- stopping the fuel leak.
Now, we can 3-D print a plug that,
once inserted into the puncture,
expands like an umbrella, fully blocking the leak,
and the polymer printing material will withstand
the fuel's corrosion long enough for the Air Force fuel team
to arrive from the base.
We can't replace it without protective suits.
You guys have that?
We have suits we can fortify but only so much.
After enough exposure,
those vapors will dissolve the materials and kill you.
I'll get one.
The metal doors leading into the silo are also spark risks.
You just came in those doors.
The vapor hadn't risen to where we were yet.
Now it's permeated through the entire silo.
The access door on the second level is rubberized
and spark-safe for fuel techies.
That sounds like the beginning of a death omelet.
And that's issue number two-- shoring up the fuel tanks
so the oxidizer doesn't collapse it and kill us all.
Adding an inert gas to the fuel
will help maintain its integrity.
You guys have a supply of radon, helium?
Uh, there's an artist warehouse off the highway,
ten minutes from here.
They make neon signs. The place is all lit up.
Okay, neon gas works.
Okay, me, Happy, and Doc will go get that.
So, to print the plug, we need an accurate
measurement of the rupture,
but we can't bring in a camera, a phone--
anything metal that could cause a spark.
So the measurement will have to be eyeballed
by a genius with the talent to memorize dimensions.
Wonderful.
We need to shore up the Hazmat suit
so vapor can't get in, or you will die.
Every opening sealed,
gloves and helmet duct-taped for extra protection.
Finally, the oxygen tank, so you can breathe.
You've got to move fast, Sly.
We don't know how long you'll have
before the suit's compromised.
Okay, Sly, good to go.
Thumbs up?
I have to pee.
Don't be so hard on yourself.
- I'm not. - Yeah, you are.
You dropped a wrench.
Even Michael Jordan missed the occasional free throw.
Missing a free throw never detonated
a nuclear warhead.
As far as we know.
Hey, I got some movie tickets to the Glendora drive-in.
I did notice how bummed you were
when the waitress disinvited you,
and I figure we could go, just us.
I'm not bummed, and I don't want to go.
Come on.
You and me, provided we prevent this nuclear explosion.
Okay, which we are nowhere near pulling off because I blew it.
I got weak and emotional,
and it's all because that waitress came to Scorpion.
If Walter hadn't hired her,
I would not be feeling things right now.
I wouldn't have gotten upset over that stupid drive-in,
I wouldn't have lost focus,
and I wouldn't have dropped that wrench.
So Walt hiring Paige three and a half years ago
made you drop that wrench today?
That's interesting logic.
Why do you want to be human, anyway?
Being human sucks.
She's ruined all of us.
Well, if she hadn't made us feel and be more human,
then you would have never married me.
I mean, she is the reason we're together.
That is a good thing, right?
Right?
Guys, this is bad.
The fuel is rushing out.
The fuel, whose vapors can eat through my suit.
Plug design is prepared,
and comms are patched into the speakers.
Sly, the sooner we get the specs on that rupture,
the sooner you get out of there.
Getting closer.
You have family?
She's wearing a hospital bracelet.
She had a circulation issue when she was born.
That picture was taken after we got home
from follow-up surgery.
She's doing great now.
You'll see them again.
Best calculation for the rupture is
14.68 inches circumference,
which I am basing on the memory of similarly circumferenced
dodgeballs that I was routinely beaned with
in middle school.
Coming back out.
He's really our best hope?
So you need all this for some kind of refrigerant?
That's what our boss from Homeland Security told us.
We're just following orders.
Now, let's get the last tank.
See, old me could care less about this neon yutz.
New me, Mrs. Feelings, is screaming inside
because he should be running away from here as far as he can.
Well, okay, yeah, but you tell him,
he's gonna tell ten others, who'll pass it on
and cause a panic.
And then maybe die driving off in a rush
when we're gonna fix this. Or not.
She's angrier than usual.
It's just textbook projection.
She has guilt for dropping the wrench,
and she's picked Paige to blame for it.
Let's go, ladies!
Better Paige than us.
Copy that, Toby.
They're a few miles out, will be here soon.
We'll help unload the tanks.
Plug is finished.
We'll need 20 feet of hose to connect the neon tanks
to the coupler and...
two Hazmat suits for me and Paige.
Supply closet's down the hall.
Be right out.
It'll, uh... It'll just be me and you in there.
Alone, dressed in fancy suits.
Be like a fun date.
Again, I think we define "date" differently.
Hoses locked.
All right, neon's all hooked up here.
Walt? Connected.
Okay.
When the plug's in place, we'll give the signal.
Sounds like breakfast is cooking.
No death omelet. We're gonna get this done.
Guys, double-time.
It's stuck. I-I got it.
Go back inside, your suit is failing around your neck.
It's fine, we're almost done.
If it ruptures, the fumes will kill you.
I've got this. Go inside now.
Okay, just hurry. Okay.
It's in. I'm deploying the plug.
Leak stopped. Happy, the neon.
Here goes nothing.
- You okay? - Yeah.
Pressure's coming back up.
It's still creaking.
It's a good creaking.
The structure is regaining integrity.
Well, then come back to the control room.
It's dangerous as hell in there.
Okay. On my way.
Walter!
What the hell was that?
The vapor must have compromised the platform.
It gave way and Walter fell.
He's knocked out.
His head's in a pool of fuel
at the bottom of the silo. Walter!
That fuel is gonna go through his suit
like acid. He's got three minutes, tops.
I'm going back in. Sly, tape up around my neck fast.
Paige, you'll need an extra pair of hands down there.
I'll suit up.
Uh, too late. Sorry, Cabe, only one suit left
and it fits me.
Paige and I are strong enough to drag out one skinny nerd,
unless it's weird. You and me, Walt together.
I know you don't like that. This time it's fine.
There's one problem. He fell to level one,
but the door on that level isn't rubberized.
If you try to access the silo from there...
Then it sparks, blammo.
So we lower something down from level two.
We fish him out.
No, a hook or a harness could tear Walt's suit.
So we got to choose between a tear or a spark.
It's pretty crappy options. Damn right.
I vote for none of the above.
We don't rip the suit
and we open the door without causing a spark.
Explain.
We could treat the door like a runway.
In emergency landings, they foam the runway
to prevent sparks or fires.
It works, sometimes.
Make it work this time.
Okay, I-I'm gonna need baking soda, vinegar and dish soap.
Come on, guys.
All right, that should do it.
Now go get our boy.
Cabe, Toby, get out of there now.
As soon as I remotely open the blast door,
deadly vapors are coming out.
Do it now, Sly.
I'm gonna. Now!
Forgive me if I am tentative,
but if this foam doesn't prevent a spark,
then we're all dead.
If we don't go in now, Walt's dead!
Walter!
We got you, pal!
Okay, take his other arm. Okay.
On three. One, two, three.
Ah, pull harder.
Did it eat through his suit?
If it had, he'd be dead already,
and Sleeping Beauty is just waking up.
Walter.
We got you. It's okay.
- Sign says "no swimming," boss. - Hey, come on.
Walter, are you okay?
Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay.
I'm okay.
You guys are a good team.
Strategic Air Command has been updated on our status.
Fuel teams are two hours out.
Plug's holding up.
That thing's tougher than a two-dollar steak.
Patty?
We could not be in a worse situation.
Uh, I can think of one.
Well, you better think
of a new way to fund the science club
because our proposal was just rejected.
What?
It was a rock-solid plan.
Can't allocate from a budget of zero.
There is no money left.
Finance subcommittee just broke the news.
So, come up with a plan B.
Uh... I-I'm kind of in the middle of something.
Do you need a lecture on priorities?
You're an alderman. Act like one.
How do you act like an alderman?
Council session ends at 7:00. Be there.
Uh, guys,
a little problem here.
Pressure readings in the fuel tank are way off.
Neon alone would not create pressure this high.
Why would there be anything other than neon
in a neon shop's tanks?
Well, neon in signs is often mixed
with other inert gases like argon and xenon
to create various colors.
So, if the shop owner
accidentally gave you a premixed tank...
The additional molecular mass of the second inert gas
could increase the pressure up to tenfold!
What the hell does that mean?
- Stopper blew. - Our eggs are scrambled.
The rupture has almost doubled in size!
Fuel is pouring out twice as fast.
No way to plug it now.
Walter, what do we do? I don't know.
I'm just the intern,
but it's your damn job to know.
I have an idea.
But no one's gonna like it.
I like the idea of exploding even less.
Funny you should mention explosions
because our only chance of survival is to trigger one.
Now, we need to blow the fuel tanks and launch the warhead.
Just so we're clear, guy with the 197 IQ
wants to blow up a nuke? Not blow it up. Eject it.
Did that fuel boil your brain?
You spent the past half hour saying an explosion is bad.
Yes, but now that we know one is inevitable,
we need to make it useful instead of deadly.
I think I follow you.
If we blow it with too much fuel in the silo,
it won't matter if the warhead
isn't armed because the force of the blast
will trigger a-a nuclear reaction.
And if there's too little fuel causing an oxidizer collapse...
Then the warhead falls into a fiery pit and we get the same outcome.
But if we siphon out enough fuel from the base of the silo...
It'll loosen the warhead and remove it from the missile.
Then we remotely open the exterior hatch,
causing a spark to initiate an explosion
that we've designed to be the perfect size.
So we get an unarmed warhead
that shoots out like a cork gun, harmless.
Assuming this works, how will we know where the warhead ends up?
Uh, we won't exactly.
Airman, what is the safe landing zone?
All desert and uninhabited hills for 30 miles around the silo.
Factoring that into my equation
to keep the warhead within range.
What about the neon guy?
Well, he's four miles away, so the force of the blast
will carry this thing ten miles, go right over him.
Since the nuke won't be armed,
once it's located, the Air Force techs
are gonna have all the time in the world to dispose of it.
If the fuel tank pressure falls into the hot zone, then...
...boom. At this rate, we have four minutes.
I'll get to work loosening the warhead.
Looks like I'll have to 3-D print those wrenches after all.
I'll need help in there.
Walter and I are already suited up.
Oh, crap, there's only enough polymer left
to print one wrench. We need three.
Okay, then we share it.
Uh, Toby, Cabe,
head to the valve room and start siphoning fuel
from the bottom of the silo.
There's a safe storage basin on a sublevel.
You can drain the fuel into that.
Great. Sly, how much should we siphon out?
I'm working on the numbers. Stay tuned.
Okay, Paige, you're up.
Here, Walter.
The warhead is almost disengaged. Cabe?
All right. Good to go, Doc.
Let her rip.
Thar she flows.
Fuel is being sucked into the pump
and out into the storage basin.
I got the number. 1,502 gallons.
That's the amount of fuel we need to siphon out.
Any more, any less,
we're goners. Now keep your eye on that gauge.
Okay. Now, assuming my fuel math is right,
the curvature of the warhead
underside edges is shaped perfectly
to ride the blast energy that will be concentrated beneath it.
That's it.
I found my solution.
For the nuke?
No. For the West Altadenia Science Club.
Uh, guys,
we are 30 seconds from trouble. Please tell me you're done.
Just loosening up the final bolts.
Okay.
Good to go. Now.
Great. Get out of there.
Cabe, Toby, how's that fuel doing?
And... finito. Cut it.
Okay, Sly, we're ready down here.
Readying hatch for breach.
20 seconds.
Good job.
All three of us, one wrench. Not easy.
For what it's worth...
...I'm really glad we came together in there,
all three of us.
Right, but the truth is
you two do pretty well on your own, also.
I should've been aware that that was important to you.
I guess I like hanging around you guys.
Don't know why.
Thank you.
I'm not sure that was a compliment.
Opening exterior hatch now.
Should spark any second.
Please tell me that's not what I think it is.
It is.
Well... it worked?
I can't believe it. We're safe!
Not exactly.
There's that tone.
I hate that tone.
Prior to the explosion,
the warhead timer was triggered.
Okay, by what?
The vapor. It must have corroded the circuit board
and compromised the warhead.
So, we just launched
a live nuke somewhere into a 30-mile radius
and it's gonna detonate in 20 minutes.
No.
19 and a half.
Countdown status? 18 minutes, 32 seconds.
Ah, I can see the headlines.
"Millions Incinerated by a Crack Team of Geniuses
and Their Crusty Intern."
Zip it. What's the play?
There is no way to kill the timer remotely.
We can't disarm a nuke we can't find.
Satellite imagery. No time.
How about a map?
Oh, you mean the one that tells us
exactly where an '80s-era warhead with no GPS is located?
That's a great idea.
See, this is why you're never gonna get promoted.
No, a map in the sky.
Our stopper blew because we accidentally mixed neon
with other gases, right?
So we check security footage,
and we look for that big old neon streak in the sky
when that sucker launched! Cabe?
You may have a future in this company after all.
I'm pulling up security footage from the front gate.
Come on, come on.
There! The purple neon arc.
Okay. It's a... exit angle of 52 degrees...
headed north by northeast. Object mass,
velocity of the pressure wave, factoring in
the gravity constant...
Okay, I got it. Got the location.
How much time?!
31 seconds till this thing blows!
This blows!
All of you, stay back!
Come on, genius, you got us into this.
Think.
What are you guys doing?
Get back! We're staying right here.
Just think of us as an extra seven wheels of support.
- You got this. - Besides,
it's a nuclear blast, it doesn't matter
where we stand.
16 seconds. Come on, Happy.
15, 14,
13, oh, God!
Okay, shut up, we can all count.
Come on...
Sweetheart, it doesn't look like you know what you're doing.
Eight. You know, actually, seven,
because when I said "Oh, God," that took a second.
Oh, God, we're down to three, two, one!
What the...?
How...?
How'd you do that?
Pulled the battery.
Puppy can't blow without power.
You know, o-our job was to decommission the nuke,
and technically, that's decommissioned, so, um...
we'll send you our bill.
Airman Pendergraft,
I assume the Air Force can wrap all this up.
I have someplace to be and I can't be late.
It's really stress-inducing.
What could be more stressful than this?
Where were you?
You have less than three minutes before the session ends.
- We were busy. - Alderman Dodd.
Glad you could find time to join us.
Sorry, I was at work.
City government is work as well.
And you're late.
Not me. Never had a tardy.
Uh, I understand that there are a few minutes left.
I'd like to talk about saving the science club.
That's been settled. There's no money in the budget.
There will be.
Once we put a hat
on every lamppost in West Altadenia.
You see, if we use
a reflective surface for the underside of each conical cover,
not unlike the shape of the bottom of a nuclear warhead,
then, electric light,
that our city pays for, that currently and wastefully
shines up into the night sky,
will be redirected back down to the streets.
We will yield the same brightness
using bulbs of half the wattage.
Citywide,
that's an energy savings of over $250,000 annually.
And we only need $6,000 for the science club.
Actually, this could work.
Mr. Dodd, you seem to really care about this science club.
I do. I do care.
Oh, my gosh, I do care.
I got to go.
Now, that's how you act like an alderman.
I want to be your attorney.
You want to what?
He inhaled too much vapor.
Sylvester, you're not an attorney.
Not yet. I looked it up:
Vermont lets you take the bar exam
even if you never went to law school.
You pass, you're licensed.
Then, since it's a federal case,
all I got to do is get sworn in by the federal bar.
Okay. Speaking of the bar, how do you plan on passing?
Well, actually, he does have perfect recall.
With adequate preparation, Sly would ace it.
I've got 48 hours.
The bar exam's in two days?
Kid, do you even know how extensive
the bar exam is?
You got to know criminal law,
criminal procedure...
Contracts, evidence...
Real property, torts...
It's a five hour flight. It'll be plenty of time.
Come on, guys.
I see solutions when others don't.
I just convinced a dais of bureaucrats
to change the way they light their city
to save a science program because I cared.
Toby, you said so yourself:
we will never find a lawyer that cares about Cabe
as much as we do.
Well, I care about Cabe.
And I will scour every law book
and memorize every archaic regulation to protect him.
I can do this.
With all of our research capabilities
and our brain power, we can do this.
Together.
Is the kid getting good at speeches or what?
Somebody get my lawyer a ticket to Montpelier.
I'm on it.
Okay, darling, what do you say
we get out of this dusty garage and head home?
Uh, yeah, in a few.
I just want to organize my workstation a bit.
Happy, they're not gonna invite you along tonight.
Yeah.
I know.
I don't want to go anywhere with them, anyway.
I've seen a lot of them lately.
Okay, one, you do want to go along with them.
And two, no I-I'm actually not hurt
that you don't want to spend time
with your brand-new, shiny husband.
Do you want to know why?
No.
Because your being drawn to Walter, Paige and Ralph
is perfectly logical.
You spent your childhood yearning for a nuclear family,
and now, every single day, you see a mother figure
and a father figure and a child.
It soothes a very wounded
part of your psyche to be with them.
That's perfectly okay.
But now that you know why you were doing it,
and Paige is making you feel more things,
and that's good, and...
maybe you could just ease off a little bit.
I want a baby.
Okay.
I was thinking Kovelsky's, but...
I want a baby.
Soon.
Okay, you were right.
I want a family. I've always wanted a family.
And I want one with you, 'cause I love you.
But... the woman who hates being human
wants to make another human?
Yeah, something like that.
Shall we start now?
Uh, not-not-not here,
not in front of everyone.
Right, yeah.
Let's go.
Hey, go get your coat so I can take you to the sitter's. Okay?
Now that we have a moment,
I would like to confess something to you.
Okay.
I didn't encourage Happy to hang out with us
because I liked it so much.
Uh, yeah, she is one of my best friends, but, uh,
I would prefer one-on-one time with you.
I just-- I didn't want you to...
...think otherwise.
Okay, I appreciate the honesty.
But if you preferred being with just me, then why didn't...?
I'm nervous to be alone with you.
You've been alone with me hundreds of times.
Wh-What could you possibly be nervous about?
My biggest fear
is being in a restaurant, droning on about genius things,
and then looking up at your face, and then seeing boredom.
I-It happens after a few weeks of every relationship
that I've been in.
And then they end.
And, uh...
I don't want this one to end.
Walter.
We are not a few weeks into our relationship.
We are three years in. I know you.
Okay?
And I have an idea of a place where we can go have dinner,
and you don't have to worry about seeing boredom on my face.
Okay,
so, uh, what's your big plan?
You'll see.
Ladies and gentlemen,
your sensory experience is about to begin.
See you later, Walter. Huh?
What's going on?
You said you were worried about looking across the table
and seeing a bored look on my face?
Well, here, you won't have that problem.
You eat without seeing, in order to enhance the other senses.
Paige, that is very thoughtful, but this is ridiculous.
See, uh, this is a gimmick
most likely to mask the mediocre food.
Just give it a chance.
Good evening! Oh!
We will begin with a selection
of locally sourced root vegetables
served with mayonnaise three ways.
Mayonnaise has more than one way?
Still or effervescent, sir?
Uh, tap's fine.
First of all, mayonnaise only comes one way.
Second of all, "effervescent"?
Pretentious.
Third of all, I guarantee you that our waiter
is a hipster doofus
with a logging camp beard and a man bun.
Sir, I'm still here.
I thought you went to get water.
I have the water. I was ready to pour,
but you were still talking, so...
Oh.
- Okay. Well, let me help you out here. - Okay.
I got it-- I'm sorry.
Oh! Oh, God!
God! Sir!
Oh...
What's going on here?
I-- I could use a napkin.
I can't believe that just happened.
I think I have three different kinds of mayonnaise on me.
For the record,
that waiter looked exactly as I described him.
For the record, I could never get bored of you.
== sync, corrected by elderman == @elder_man