Subject: Swirling plumes of smoke erupted from Finch's ventilators.
Posted on: 2016-10-06 10:02:10 UTC

'Don-t do that!' He squealed, vision filling with lots of red warning signs and exclamation marks. His body was hissing like a deflating snake. Bits and parts inside clicked and clacked conspicuously. He swung a hatch on his chassis open, pecking at buttons and knobs with two panicked hands and two equally panicked claws.

'Oh, you shouldn't do that, you know,' Bingle advised, emptying the salt. 'And, absolutely. We like company, don't we, Finch?'

'Yes!' He howled. 'Especially with agents!'

'You can always trust him to be reasonable,' Bingle said with a smile.

'I love company! And acid baths! And explosives! And falling rocks, falling onto me and crushing me to pieces! I love it all!'

'Who did you exorcise?' Bingle asked, ducking as a loose bolt shot off the raging Finch, pinging into the distance. 'Must have been difficult, you know. Lots of people, climbing all over each other. All getting at one fellow. Did you take turns each?'

((Need to slow down on the 'Finch breaking' joke, a bit. Happening a bit too much...))

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