“Not just a pickle, eh?” Max rubbed his hands. “But a major pickle. What’s the extent?”

“Let’s just say there was a riot.”

“And a possible wipedown for anyone involved on the wrong side,” Dan filled in, cringing slightly.

“Ooh.” Max seemed to understand Dan’s warning better than I. “That is a major pickle. I think I just might be able to help you out.”

He wiped his hands on a dirty green rag, all-buisiness-like. “Now it’s been a while since I’ve seen you, D-147.” Dan smirked uneasily, shifting at Max’s use of his, how shall we say?, other name. “How’ve things been.”

“Peachy,” he replied.

“You want Julie in here while…?”

“I’m game. If she wants to stay, she can,” Dan shrugged.

Turning to me, Max asked with a grin, “Ever seen an open-head disablement?”