I've been walking forty miles of bad road. If the Bible is right, the world will explode.

[akablackkitty]

Walk by the CCTV room of the Kashtta Tower, and the following conversation can be heard:

"You know, I've got about a billion security protocols to run through and, uh, there's-"

"Mr. Flinkman, I think you can be spared from your duties for five seconds to humor me a little."

"....You're angry. Okay, that's... Yeah, it's not every day I can actually

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[rickynotmickey]

Ricky probably shouldn't be up and about. But he doesn't want to sit at the Tower all day. So, he's dragged himself to a cafe, deciding that eating out for once might be nice. He's kind of drugged up on pain killers, and a cup of coffee sounds nice right about now. Caffeine. Something to drag him through the blur. And then some food.

He's just hoping he can actually do something without something exploding or trying to kill him for once.

[stopdropanddie]

Suddenly, out of nowhere, there is a robot.

There is no real reason for this. There was just a robot where there wasn't one before. It is a very shiny robot like CNJ mated with a skinless Terminator.

There is nothing old or cheesy about it, however. It is holding a large gun and promptly opens fire on a group of patrons, and Bristow stands up abruptly, flipping his table over in the process.

Well. That's not... Normal.

[rickynotmickey]

Of course.

He goes out to lunch. He just wants lunch. All Ricky wanted was a sandwich.

But does he get a sandwich? No. He gets a robot. And it's not the good kind. It's the wanting-to-kill-everyone kind.

Ricky knows what he needs to do, but he needs to do it without getting shot to death in the process.

Couldn't the robot have shown up after he'd gotten his sandwich? Or at least a coffee? ...no. There is no time to be lamenting lost sandwiches. He has killer robots to be dealing with. That brings back memories he doesn't want to think about. At least it doesn't... look like them.

The upturned table looks like a decent enough cover for now. Hopefully this robot doesn't have x-ray vision. It takes him a few moments to notice that this is Bristow's table.

He looks up at the man, not exactly sure what to say. He wants to ask if Bristow can cover him so he can go disarm it, but-- He's not the one giving orders anymore.

[stopdropanddie]

Bristow is now kneeling behind his table, checking the clip in his gun, because, yes, he always carries his Glock around, even when having a nice cup of coffee. Don't you?

"Hello, Mr. Smith," he says, dryly when Ricky joins him as he snaps the clip in place. If he seems completely unsurprised, he is. This is the guy who seems to get into trouble with Casey all the fucking time. "What do you know about robots?"

Because he doesn't know a damn fucking thing.

[rickynotmickey]

Too much, Bristow. Ricky knows too much about robots.

Ricky hasn't bothered getting a gun out because, well, he's pretty sure that a gun isn't going to help against that thing, from what he knows about robots.

"I know how to disarm it," he says. Then he pauses, adding after a moment, "...sir."

[stopdropanddie]

That is beautiful. For a moment, Bristow just stares at him, wondering if he even heard that right. Possibly he just keeps falling into these situations with experts. Like Abby and the horrible crocodile and God, he is never getting over that.

"...It's my lucky day," he notes, peering over the table where the robot is merrily (or as merrily as an assassin robot gets) executing patrons. "On my count, we move." He holds up his fingers. One, two, three...

And he's up and moving stealthily towards the damn robot, expecting Ricky will follow.

[rickynotmickey]

Moving stealthily in the amount of pain Ricky's in is difficult, but he doesn't really have another choice right now. He follows right behind Bristow on his count.

This would be a lot harder if the robot weren't so interested in killing the people it's focusing on.

And Ricky reaches out, grabbing the robot's ankle at the first chance he gets.

...he probably should have told Bristow about that.

[stopdropanddie]

Bristow jolts, wondering what the fuck does he think he's doing, but before he can verbalize that, the robot gives a violent jerk and the gun falls from its hands as it collapses into a useless heap.

...Right.

There's a dead silence and then the remainder of the cafe's patrons run out screaming, ignoring the dead bodies in favor of getting the fuck out. Bristow, meanwhile, just stares at the robot blankly for a few seconds before turning back to Ricky with a look that is not quite a glare, but could be.

"...What the hell was that?"

[rickynotmickey]

This is definitely an awkward silence. Right. Bristow doesn't know about him shorting out electronics.

"Robots and I don't rightly get along," he says, looking down at the hunk of rather useless metal.

[stopdropanddie]

Bristow linefaces in the most pointed manner that he can manage.

"I didn't ask about your relationship with the robot," he says with a rather cold edge to his tone. "What I asked is what precisely you did to make it stop."

Even if he didn't exactly use those words. They were implied. So there.

[rickynotmickey]

"I can't handle electronics," Ricky starts. Explaining it when Bristow is giving him that look and add on that Ricky doesn't rightly understand it himself, is very difficult. That, and the fact that he knows he really should have mentioned this to Bristow already. It is kind of important. He pauses, awkwardly, trying to figure out how to best frame this situation. "Short 'em out."

[stopdropanddie]

Okay. That is problematic. There’s a long period of disapproving silence before Bristow finally speaks.

“The suggestion I’m about to make is less because you failed to mention that important detail to me and more because I know of someone who might benefit more from your particular skillset. There’s another man who runs an operation similar to mine. His name is Gene Hunt and, from what I understand, he’s from the 1970’s. Given the amount of tech he’s likely to not know how to deal with, I think you’d be better suited for his team on the principle that you’d be a much more valuable asset to him.”

He pauses, letting that sink in. “However, should Hunt and my team ever collaborate, given the exceptional teamwork you and Agent Casey have displayed, I’ll be sure to recommend him as your partner.”

…This is Bristow attempting to soften the blow somewhat. He is not very good at it. And it’s not like not being on the same team is stopping Casey and Smith from working together, but, well, official capacities and all that.