“You should go home and get some sleep,” he says, without looking up from his work.
“You should too.”
He just shrugs silently, intent on his work, and I screw in the last piece before standing and making my way over to him. I pull a chair from beside his desk until the armrest collides with his and sit down while he gives me a side-eye for being a nuisance.
“I won't leave until you do.” I watch as he toils with the connection wires.
“This is going to have to be fixed before Monday.” He grumbles, and I focus on it. I can see what he’s trying to do. The wires are crossed incorrectly, but he’s pulling on the wrong end.
“Let me try.” I hover my hand over his, and he purses his lips. I jab my hand in the air for him to pass it to me, and after a second, he sighs and slides it over. As I fiddle with the wires, I feel his stare, but I ignore it.
“Tweezers.” I hold out my hand, and he places them in my palm. Slowly I pull at the correct end, and the wire straightens itself out, crossing with the correct one to create the correct circuit that the code is wired to.
“Try it.” I slide it back to him, though I know it’s right. He flicks the switch, and the tool flickers with light.
“No way.” He shakes his head with a grin as he fiddles with it more. I feel myself beaming, and he looks over at me.
“I just want to test one last thing, and then I promise I’ll go home.” He laughs and points to his drawers. “Can you hand me my long wire cutters?”
I nod and open the top drawer.
“Oh! Not—” Before he finishes his sentence, I realize this is the wrong drawer when I only see a strange-looking object in the center of it. I glance over with curiosity to see his face is beet red, and he’s biting the side of his mouth nervously.
“What is it?” I laugh. “Is something wrong with it? You know, not every invention can be the best.”
“Yeah.” He swallows, looking at it with dread in his eyes. “Sure.”
“Tito?” I look at him curiously. “What is it?”
“You know, I think we’re done for the day. This can wait until tomorrow. We can grab dinner or just go home, I mean, to our separate homes.”
“Oh no, you don’t.” Now my interest is far too piqued. “Tito, what the hell is it?” I can’t really make it out, just by looking, but from the shade of red he’s turned, I’m absolutely not letting my curiosity about this one go. It promises to be too good.
“We said no more questions.” Tito’s voice sounds strangled.
“About the mafia.” I cross my arms, not budging an inch.
“Scout.” His voice is almost pleading. “It’s a personal project. That’s it. Can we go now?”
“What do you mean, personal? Like, a helper robot or something?”
“Oh, Christ. In a manner of speaking,” He looks so flustered, and I bite my lip to keep from laughing. He’ll never tell me if I do.
“Now you have to tell me.”
“Drop it, Scout.”
“No.”
“Scout!”
“Tito, this is not a big deal. If I guess, will you?”
“It’s a sex toy.” He says it so flatly that I’m not sure I’ve heard him correctly for a second, but when he doesn’t continue, I realize that is, in fact, what he said.
I peer at it, trying to figure out how it might work. I’m intrigued, almost enough to ignore the heat pooling in my belly at the idea of Tito designing a sex toy in his spare time. “Like, for you?”
“What?”