Subject: Finch had gone totally still.
Posted on: 2016-10-05 23:13:37 UTC

'Bingle. He said, ocular whizzing about in its socket like a UFO with a blind pilot, stopping here and there when it decided that this, this was what needed observation, before immediately breaking off to bounce around further.

'Are you okay, Finch?' Bingle asked, putting the salt shaker down, glancing at his burger, and immediately picking it back up to continue building the little salt hill on the meat into a mountain.

'Did we miss a bloody memo, or something?' His ocular narrowed onto Bingle's face pleadingly, lower lid quivering slightly.

'I hope not, Finch. They're made of pure gold, you know.'


'Aren't they?'

Finch paused, pulled briefly out of his horrified trance by the sludgy murk of disappointment. He was almost instantly pulled back in, as he felt something brush against his chassis.

'Bingle, why the hell are there so many,' He glanced around again into the sea of action department flash patches. 'Why the hell are there so many bloody agents?'

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