2025-09-04 - The Engineer is IN

It's solidly evening, going on for night, and Lucky's is reasonably bustling, but not crowded. Thursday's not exactly their busiest night, but also nothing like dead, which is (coincidentally, but still) perfect for Dylan's plans.

Because he's bored, slightly tipsy, and in possession of some cardboard, duct tape, and a sharpie.

The combination's resulted in a couple signs stuck to the side of a booth at Lucky's. "Advice^*: 1 drink or snack", says one. The other, "The Engineer is IN".

A much smaller one, in much smaller letters, is taped near the floor: ^*no guarantees. any problems created by solutions suggested to the current ones are separate issues and will be handled only at full price. no refunds, either. no one wants to see that.

Currently, the booth contains Dylan, looking entirely normally Dylanish in jeans etc and the 'Immoral Support' t-shirt today, about a third of a plate of mozzarella sticks, and slightly less of a fraction of a long island iced tea. He's actively but idly working on getting that third down to a fourth while he makes some kind of notes in, reasonably enough, a notebook, periodically glancing up and around at the changing population of the bar.

Lavender didn't have any plans for the night and wasn't quite ready to be home yet, so instead, she walks into Lucky's wearing some of her staples; black combat style boots, black jeans, a grey shirt with a black raven flying across her chest, and a cozy looking black cardigan that looks too big for her and very well worn.

A quick scan of the place to take a look at who is present leads her to spot the signs on Dylan's booth. "Curious," she says to absolutely no one with a slight tilt of her head before she shoves her hands in the pockets of her cardigan and makes the walk over. After reading the signs, she says, "inflation has really hit the professional is IN profession. It used to be five cents, right?" Reaching a pale hand out she has every intention of stealing a mozzarella stick, unless he stops her. "What kind of things do you give advice about?"

Joey wanders in, not too late, tired, and been living his best life as a mole man really digging up things that need to have less dirt in them. He's got on the baggy, but clean jeans on, and the black t-shirt that's a size too small like a proper gym rat.

Dylan being a familiar face from all the tree stuff brings him over there. There's a pause before any hullo as he reviews the sign. He points to the cheese plate, "This working out?" There is a tone of admiration for the hustle there. Looking to Lavender asking the appetizer priced question he upnods, "Sup." And awaits that answer.

King's in her usual attire of black jeans, these more ripped up than her winter attire, and a once-t-shirt deconstructed to a tank top. Her black hair is down, a little sparkly face paint on her cheek as she had to give a princess bandaid to a kid earlier today and he insisted on matching butterfly wing face paint.

King slides into Dylan's booth with a basket containing one order of cheese sticks and one order of fries. Her footsteps are heavy enough to be heard when she's close, as she, like Lavender, is wearing combat-style boots. "Hey," she says to her fellow oversize footwear enthusiast. She glances over at Joey, whom she's just slid past. "You look thirsty." She slaps a twenty on the table nearby the gym rat's hip. "I'll save you a seat." King doesn't have a drink either, just some food. She's maybe been here for a little bit, but in the far part of the room playing pool.

Michael is offduty. He has the employee camping trip coming up tomorrow and he's enjoying an evening off to prepare for the trip as one of its organizers. Which means that he's pretty much ready to go and is just enjoying a night off at Lucky's. He's already played one game of pool, had one beer, and idly watched as Dylan assembled and set his sign into place with some degree of amusement.

And so it is that he wanders over to the growing group over at Dylan's table with a basket of buffalo wings with both ranch and bleu cheese, each clearly labeled. These, he just sets in the middle of the table as he posts up nearby, curious as to the answer to Lavender's question.

"Yeah, but it also used to be the '50s, and the booths were less comfortable but free," Dylan answers Lavender, looking up with a grin. The pen's set down on the notebook, and he arches a brow at her cheese theft. "Careful, you'll end up owing me advice. And don't think I won't collect." Somehow, he manages to make that sound far more ominous than it surely could actually ever be. But he doesn't actually do anything to prevent the cheeselifting.

Joey gets a grin as well, and a little upnod of greeting. "The working out comes after all the pub grub. But I've had less-successful ideas." As evidenced by the arrival of King, Michael, and various further snacks. "Gooood evening," he greets the pair of them, adding to King, with a casual little point at her facepaint, "Good sparkles, fully approved."

And finally, an answer to Lavender's question, though it's probably for all of them: "I give advice for whatever things people ask about. Try me." It comes with a wink, though it's King he looks to expectantly. She was first with the snacks -- and the sitting.

Taking a bite of the thefted mozz stick, Lavender promises to Dylan, "Don't think I won't give you advice." Her tone is equally ominous, but the slight smirk that subtly curls her lip might make some wonder if it is more a warning than a joke.

She greets Joey, King, and Michael as each arrive; offering an upnod and a returned, 'sup' to the first, a regular nod and a friendly, "how's it," to the second and the third gets a lifted hand and little finger wave.

"Point taken," she replies to Dylan with a nod. "The booths did look far less comfy and time did march on a bit." She doesn't try his advice, just yet, since she did not bring snacks or drinks and both King and Michael did. But she does agree about the sparkles, nodding her approval. "Shiny."

Joey is listening; he's adept at shutting up to do that pretty well. Seeing Michael there's a nod of greeting seeing he too is interested in this curious phenom. His eyes glance down at the $20 slapped down by his hip and on instinct starts wiggling his ass to the music on the juke. Looking up his face animates and brightens with recognition. "Oh no shit! Hey you. I'd ask what's shakin, King, but that'd be me. Good to see you in better situationship." He gestures to whatever, all of it.

Taking the twenty and folding it between two fingers he points it at Dylan, "I'm a call you in the morning, we'll go man." As the process is laid out Joey nods, "Sick. I dig it. Okay so we are doing shots for takin a shot at solving one of life's great mysteries?" Looking at the other three he asks "We want to stress test this or be nice to em. Wait do you have to eat what we order or you order a thing on our tab?"

King reaches up to touch her jaw, well away from smearing her butterfly paint (though it should be dry by now). "Thanks, I keep forgetting it's there." She grins at that and settles in, scooting over to make more room at the table for Michael, Lavender, or Joey to sit. "Hey, you," she says to her roomie, and then promptly reaches for a wing. She's incapable of refusing a buffalo wing. She slides her baskets toward the center of the table too.

"I'm going on a camping trip this weekend. Do you think it's wise to play drinking games with a bunch of performers and amusement park employees in the woods of Michigan in late summer? And do we think the bourbon or the tequila when we do it anyway?" A grin threatens when Lavender 'threatens' advice giving right back. "You know me, always looking to improve," she says to Joey. "Less back alley adventures these days. But never none." She glances from Joey back to Dylan and waits to see what answers the Wise One will give. You can tell he's the wise one because he has a sign.

Michael remains leaning against the edge of the booth rather than sliding into it, leaving room for the others to sit first if they want to. He does, however, reach over and grab a fry from King's basket and then a buffalo wing because buffalo wings. "No shots for me. I'll stick with my beer. I've got to drive out to the campsite in the morning before people start getting there." Apparently the same trip that King is going on, one might presume. He chuckles a bit at her request for advice and might have his own thoughts on that, but he's not the one with the advice booth tonight.

Ain't no sign like a literal sign! King knows what she's doing. Though it possibly should be noted none of the signs promise good advice, let alone wise.

It's not going to be noted by Dylan, though.

He gives Joey another grin and a fingergun in return for the point and gym plan, which may or may not be questionably wise itself, particularly if the advising goes on until late. Lavender's threat(?) gets a thoughtful look and then another mozzarella stick handed over without comment. "Been flexible, but," a look to the current snack array, "I think we're going into a temporary drinks-only phase here, I gotta wash this down with something." And that's the very last of his LIIT he's drinking now. As far as nice or stress test? Well, he wasn't the one asked. It does get a half-smile and arch of one brow, though.

"Wise?" He makes an iffy noise, giving a little hand-wobble. "It's wiser than playing drinking games with a bunch of performers and amusement park employees in the woods of Michigan in mid-winter." Which is surely the other option. "Awesome, though? Yeah. Do it. Bring water and electrolytes and at least one boring responsible person who wants to stay sober and turn people on their sides so they don't choke overnight, yada yada. Also bring both, who doesn't like options and variety?" He gestures with the last cheese stick with that, then bites it. A moment of consideration, looking from King to Michael and back. "Tomorrow, huh?" This weekend's schedule might need adjusting.

When King slides over, Lavender takes her up on the unsaid offer of a seat to anyone that wants one. For a moment, she's just listening to the others, though she does look thoughtful at the talk of a camping trip.

Taking the extra offered and not stolen cheese stick from Dylan, she gives him a look and there's a tightening in her cheek. "Sweet." Then, it's back to listening. Nodding softly when he finishes, she looks to King, "seems like sound advice. He might be good at this thing."

Joey registers Michael's choice and offers instead, "Well at least get in on the appetizer. If I eat all those frickles alone world gon' pay for it." It's an invitation of sorts but he slides into the booth and says "I heard about that ski trip and I want video." The stories of someone wiping out a ski team on the way down a hill and somehow surviving has made the rounds.

"Okay Dylan, here's your question as we's goin into fall. What makes for the ideal halloween display, and for a pint how would you make that work on a balcony?" He pauses and admits, "I heard our building did real good for trick or treaters and though tthat might be kinda cool, but what makes it 'good'."

"What time are you leaving?" King asks idly of Michael, apparently not having arranged her ride situation yet, probably because she signed up for this thing at the last possible moment to reserve her spot. At work, she's detail oriented. Off time? YOLO. "The thing is, on that ski trip? Don't even think there was alcohol involved. What are the odds that happens twice?"

She taps her chin with a thoughtful finger. "You're right, it is definitely better than doing it in winter. No one's freezing to death in late summer." She nods in agreement. "So you have spoken, so mote it be. I'll get an extra couple boxes of electrolyte powder." She nods again, settled. "Ugh, sober buddy. No one's driving an ATV so we should be okay." Even in the face of Patrón and Buffalo Trace.

Ok, maybe not.

She finishes eating the wing and tucks it into a paper napkin for disposal, wiping off her fingers too. "I think so too," she says to Lavender. "He sold me on it." She grins and nods, then falls silent as Joey goes for the next request for advice. She stays suspiciously silent on the subject of potential ski trip video. Not. A. Word.

"What happens on employee trip stays on employee trip," Michael says to Joey though he might be mostly kidding. He also was way too busy trying to help rescue people out of snowbanks to have been taking video of the entire situation. He lifts his bottle and takes another swig of his beer.

"Early," Michael says to King with a chuckle. "Probably around 8? Gonna catch the first ferry over since I need to load up the truck I rented for it and get out to the site." And it's not a short ferry ride out there.

He reaches for a mozzarella stick, then.

Dylan has, by either forethought or luck (set your own odds), chosen a corner booth, which means that even if he isn't going to move over on his end -- because obviously, this is the advice dispensing end -- there's probably room for all of the others to slide in if they're so inclined. And cooperate with each other. Anyone wants to stand or lean, that's fine with him too.

Lavender's positive appraisal gets get flamboyant little mock-bow, and Dylan reaches over to snag some of those fries. A good few get eaten as he nods to King, with a small shrug, at her 'ugh'. "There's almost always someone dying to do it, though. Just find the person trying not to look anxious about the whole drinking game idea. Or the one who already looks resigned to being the responsible one; they only think they don't want to."

The remaining couple fries he's holding are pointed at Joey. "A good question. Looking forward to answering. But I don't see that drink here yet. And I do see these buffalo wings." Fries get eaten as he reaches to claim one, then gestures with that at Michael. "Got a question, or just donating to Snacks for Snaccs? I mean, no complaints either way."

Lavender's eyes brighten a touch as Joey talks about Halloween. Who would have guessed it was her favorite holiday? "I started decorating, I was going to say a month ago but really, in a way, when I moved in. I approve of your question." Not that he nor anyone needs her approval. First stick gone, she starts on the second, taking a bite.

"I have to work tomorrow. Are late arrivals welcome at this camping trip?"

Slipping a hand in her pocket, she pulls out a wrinkled 20 and slides it on the table toward Joey. "If you're getting up..." There's a look of pleading in her eyes. "I mean, if you'd be so kind, I'll have what he's having." She gestures toward Dylan.

Joey looks to Dylan and then Lavender and says "Frickles." He gets up and goes to get the fried pickles but also a round minus one. King didn't ask but why not. The drinks come back. They're blue, bright blue. Joey blinks when they are getting made, "This is not what I thought I was ordering but it's happening."

Then the frickles show up.

"The rest is on the way. Halloween machine man. Let's go."

King chuckles and snags a mozz stick, gesturing toward Michael when he affirms the sacred secrets of the ski trip. She still grinning when she takes a bite, enjoying the fried cheese before it cools down too much for a good pull. "You got enough help in the morning?" She can probably roust herself early provided they don't do more than a shot or two tonight. As long as she's not required to drive, though, all bets are off.

"Good call. Let the sober have a mission. I pity the fool trying to corral me when the liquors mix." The last bit is said under her breath, but not so quietly that those at this table can't hear it just fine.

"Reminds me I need to find some purple solar lights..." She looks over when Joey's order arrives with a selection of very blue drinks. She reaches for one, not even questioning what's in it. The dark-haired paramedic lifts her glass and says, "To accepting advice in a bar and all the hilarity that results."

"Oh, yeah, you can show up whenever you want," Michael says "Lots of folks have a shift on one or another of the days.

"I can always use more help," he says to King. "You want to help me load up, you can ride with me."

Then he considers whether he has a question for Dylan, looking thoughtful. "If you were offered the option to move to a fantastical world where you could hang out with elves, what would be your advice? Do it? Don't do it? And if so, why?" He then tipd his bottle in Dylan's direction.

Dylan gives King a somewhat impish look at her mutter, arching a brow, and speaking of impishness: Elves? Michael's question has his mouth starting to open, then closing again as he tilts his head. "Move to, as in full-time relocation? Hm. Well." Ah, drinks have arrived! Was Dylan expecting blue? No. Is this a problem? ...also no. He claims one, and lifts it to Joey in thanks and acknowlegement: Halloween decor will be next.

A fair-sized sip, a considering look at the glass, and he goes on. "Short term visit, and assuming we're not talking the strain of fae stuff where they kidnap you for a few centuries 'cause you're cute and play a mean harp or whatever, I'd say yeah, obviously. Why would you not go hang with some elves a while? Unless your ego's feeling fragile, I guess. Which could be a consideration in the more long-term version; they're always supposed to be gorgeous and graceful and amazing at arts and, I dunno, archery, charismatic... if all that stuff's actually true, might need some pretty damn strong self-regard to handle being human there, even if they think you're all that. Worse if not." He sounds thoughtful, but not really that concerned with the idea.

"Then you've got all the usual stuff -- can you eat there, both is there literally food there safe for you and can you support yourself, is the time there different, how are you going to handle anything and -one you leave behind over here if you don't intend to just ghost 'em, et cetera. And the most important question: do you want to?" He looks to Michael, head tilted and brows lifting, and takes another drink. "But if the rest is doable? Just the fact that the question's being asked makes me say yeah, do it. If you hate it, move back."

He claims a frickle. How can you not, with a name like that?

"I meant..." But Joey is already up and at the bar. "...the drink." Lavender lifts her shoulder in a shrug, but is very glad when he does actually bring drinks along with those frickles. "Thank you." Is she surprised by the color, yes. She turns the glass on the table as she studies it. "Sick." Lifting the glass, she meets King's toast.

When Michael answers her, she nods and says again. "Sick. I might try to hit it up." His question to Dylan sees a crease form between her brows as she conemplates that herself, looking to Dylan then, quite interested in what his answer may be.

"That's what I was going to say." Was it? Probably not. Well, not in that detail anyway, but it was a good answer and awfully close to what she would have said so... true enough. She then looks to Michael and asks, "so, are you going to go live with the elves?"

"What happens on the trip needs to stay on the trip for quality and training purposes. got it." Those were not the reasons but the message is clear. He picks up the blue drink to examine it with a squint; sus. There's a lift to king's toast before he drinks it. "It's good, but it doesn't taste like it should be blue."

"I heard about that fae situation. That sounds like it sucked. Like some Balenciaga prison situation." How the hell Joey knows fancy couture he does not say. Curious he asks Michael, "The camping trip a test run for elf woods habitation?" It's a fair and curious question that seems judgement free unless one is a blue drink right now.

"This is not raspberry either. That lil gnomey dude with the donuts back?" He looks to see if there's gnomes at the bar which does him no good trying to see past a 4' counter. He gives up. What he does come back to is King's offer, "You are a good friend."

King salutes Michael with her mysterious blue drink and takes a sip after the toast. She considers her roomie's question to Dylan, glances between them, and sits back. In any other place, that question would be purely hypothetical, but here it's a real possibility. She takes a couple sips of the drink, and apparently likes the flavor combo, because it stays in hand, even as she fetches another mozz stick. "If you're moving in with elves, can I have your air popper?"

She tinks her glass to Lavender's glass lightly in toast. A little late, but still toasty.

"I'm an opportunistic friend, but that's close enough." She says to Joey, then there's a little nod to Michael and says, "He always shares his pizza. I'm kinda simple that way. Ride or die." Amused, she raises her glass slightly to Joey.

"Huh?" Michael asks when Joey mentions the 'fae situation' and it being some sort of prison. "No, I went with Danny and Theo to meet the flying horse who turned out to be some kind of elven prince. It was actually kind of amazing. There were no prisons or Balenciaga involved."

Then he grins at Dylan's very sage advice and says, "No. I'm not considering a permanent move there, but not going to lie it was pretty impressive. And the fact that I'm only human and can't live up to their ethereal beauty really hadn't occurred to me until now, but thanks for giving me THAT complex." He's very clearly joking as he salutes with his beer. "I was just wondering if that might be a thing tha tpeople might do. Not me, though. I've got two sisters here in the park and I'm not going to just bail on them to go run around in the woods with the elves. At least not without some promise that I could visit regularly."

King gets a sidelong look and he says, "I'm not going anywhere yet. But you can continue to have priority usage rights on the air popper."

Lavender gets a grin, "Awesome. Happy to have you for however long you feel like coming out for."

Dylan polishes off the frickle, giving Lavender a little approving nod at her agreement, and laughs at Michael's mention of the complex. "Look, it's not a matter of being hot, it's a matter of remembering we're hot." A glance across his current companions, and he adds with a broad grin and dual fingerguns, "Reminders available on request, Fox Run 402."

He goes for another buffalo wing, leaning back a little and munching it thoughtfully. "A'ight, ideal Halloween display... well, it depends. Who's your audience, what vibe are you going for? You want to terrify toddlers or amuse adults or witch it up or go fully hail Satan?" A vague wave of the chicken bone, "...Other infernal precipitation is available." He bites the last of the meat off and drops the remains onto his plate, eyeing the snack options a moment before heading back to the delicious land of fried cheese.

"Also, what floor balcony are we working with? The higher it is, the less practical room you have to work with, if you want it seen from the street. Things need to be bigger to make up for the distance. But if you ask me -- which you are -- the key here's electronics. Ground level, you can go subtle -- give your skeletons and stuff some slow, periodic movement, just enough to make people go, did I just see something move? Was that holding its hand that way before? Amp your spooky up a bit. But higher, you can't pull off subtle on its own."

He takes another drink of the Mysterious And Apparently Delicious But Not Raspberry Blue. "I'd say, when it comes down to it, hit as many senses as you can. Not as hard as you can, just hit 'em. Sight's easy, and you can punch it up with your lights and lighting. Get some sound in there, you can go creaking and wind effects or whatever or full musical soundtrack with lip-synching pumpkins, again, vibe choices. Maybe set some fans up for your own breezes, add a scent on them. Dangle some really thin threads down to near street level and give people the walking through a spiderweb experience. That kinda thing." There is, of course, one major sense still missing there, as he chews and swallows his bite of mozza stick, then grins. "Also throw candy. Nothing's gonna get your display rated higher than bribing the observers with quality sugar."

After the toast and drink of blue booze, Lavender takes a chicken wing and starts tearing little bits of meat off with her fingers before popping the morsel in her mouth. She continues to do so as Dylan gives advice to Joey about his balcony. However, when he gets to the part of sound, she starts to softly whisper, "ooooOOoooooo... OOOoooooooOoo."

Then, chicken.

Joey points to no place in particular other than to suggest 'over there and aways' "There was, someone was saying, a really cool fancy house that the people they brought over weren't able to leave until we punched a door in it." He pauses and gets to the eventual, "They left." or there'd really be no story. "The tl;dr was fey bullshit." He's sumpathetic to it.

"I heard about the winged horse. Did not know it was a guy. bet he can't grow his own beard though." It's a small encouragement to Michael from the other beard at the table. Turning back to Dylan the plan is getting formed. "Nah, I'm not into making contracts with Satan in case it invalidates my work agreement here cause of some NDA I didn't know about." It's a cherry gig and he's not risking it.

"like kids, trick or treaters. People ant to do spooky spooky they got the monster maze." There's a small pause, "Yeaaaaaaaaah I'm on five." He considers this and surmises, "So we talkin like LEDs, lil fog machine, and some movable dudes. I can manage some dudes." Curious he says "Follow up question. Do you have a jigsaw I can come over and borrow? Gonna need some cutouts for this probably."

Looking back to king he says "I argue a friend that clearly knows what they want is always easy to buy for." Eyebrows elevate, "Pizza's in it? Shiiit that's good roomie material there." Looking to Lavender he says "If you're not off being a super scout and want to hop in on this ya can."

King's brows go up slightly when Michaels talks about the flying horse situation. She hasn't taken a trip through herself. "You do alright. Some people might do that, but I don't know if it's for me. I'm way too invested in what happens in this world, but maybe a trip to see it sometime." Maybe. "I appreciate the unimpeded access to your popcorn accessories."

King also goes for another buffalo wing, gnawing on the little drummie. She gestures with it and then dabs the corners of her mouth with a napkin. She laughs at the fully hail Satan suggestion from Dylan, whatever she was going to say entirely waylaid by that turn of phrase. "You can never go wrong with fog." She pauses, then adds, "As long as no one's swallowing chunks of dry ice." She points to Joey and says, "Mini peanut butter cups. Can't go wrong." She wipes her hands and finishes off her drink.

"Always practical, Kelly. I appreciate that about you." That smile tugs at the corner of her lips and then she asks Lavender, "White pumpkins or knobby green ones or classic orange?"

"Seconding the peanut butter cups," Michael says as he reaches for a frickle. This, he dips in a little bit of ranch before eating, deciding whether he likes the consistency of pickle and fried together. Pickles are supposed to be cold. He's not sure how he feels about it and that's clear from the expression on his face. But he shrugs and finishes it off. "I'm kind of fond of this one, but you never know.. a little adventure can be fun. Besides, the pay is pretty good to go on these things as Security. I'm pretty sure the medical team gets a pretty good bonus for doing it, too."

"Classic orange pumpkins," he votes, and then finishes off the remainder of his beer, stepping away to head up to the bar to get himself another one.

"OooooOOOOOoooo," Dylan agrees dramatically with Lavender, giving his blooze a spooooky wiggle and ghost-float across the area of the table most directly in front of him and on the way to his mouth. "That world's on the no-go list now," he confirms Joey's story, giving him a nod. "Anyway you don't need a contract to hail, or no one in New York'd ever get a taxi anywhere on time. Valid, though, there is the monster maze. And yeah, I've got a jigsaw." He has many tools! "Lemme know when you want, we can hit somewhere more sawdust friendly than my living room. ...kinda wanting to set something up on my balcony too, now." 'Tis the season!

He considers the mozzarella sticks over another sip of his drink, which is at this point not long for this world, or indeed any Elven ones. The assertions of fog -- and not drinking the dry ice, which gets the kind of little wince that may not be entirely theoretical -- and peanut butter cups get nods, and he gives a little stretch. "So, Ender. You in on this tonight, or do I need to buy my next drink myself?" He gives her a fairly silly batting of lashes. Surely she will not leave him to suffer in drinkless agony, right?

"Mine is not too spooky. I don't think. Not yet anyway. We will see what inspires me as I continue to decorate." Some people go all out for Christmas. In Lavender's world, even Christmas looks like Halloween.

"Pizza is good roomie stuff," she nods in agreement to Joey then looks at King. "All three for me. I don't discripumpkinate. I also like the plastic black and purple velvet and sparkly ones. The green bumpy ones, I just have a soft spot for them. They remind me of the classic green witch trope." Taking a sip of her drink, she sets the glass down and says, "little peanut butter cups are good. Sour gummies too. Just no candy corn."

She smiles when Dylan joins in her spooky noise making. It was a really fast smile. Chances are not many people caught it. Maybe. But it was there. To his question, she twists her lips with a 'hmmm.' "I should pass and get home tonight. But, you did give really good advice tonight so, I propose this. I'll buy you another drink and ask you for advice another time." Maybe she just can't say no to a pretty set of lashes.

They're pretty decent lashes, no lie. Dylan gives Lavender a grin, lifting two fingers in a mock-salute. "Deal," he says, and reaches down beside him for the roll of duct tape, ripping a piece off to stick double-sided to a small square of cardboard, which he leans over to stick in place on the second of his signs.

The Engineer is OUT.