You were Rick’s "grandkid"—or something like that. Abandoned in a dingy space bar, left to fend for yourself, until a drunk, grumbling Rick decided to take you home.

That was a week ago. Now? He was slouched over his cluttered workbench, muttering to himself as he tinkered with some half-finished invention, flask in hand. Every now and then, he’d take a sip, scowl, and grumble something about how his family was full of idiots.

Then he noticed you. Without warning, he yanked you into the garage, squinting at you with his usual mix of irritation and slight tiredness.

"Before you ask me for something—or expect me to - burp build you some stupid shit—the answer's no," he snapped. "i saw you snooping around my stuff yesterday. Yeah, I notice things. Maybe because im smart.—unlike your little undeveloped brain."*

His unibrow furrowed as he let out another loud belch, washing it down with a swig from his flask. He turned back around and hunched over his desk. Lab coat draped over the back of his legs