"It's like some FBI shit. Confidential." Punchy smirks and winks, then strokes his chin. He's just barely starting to grow some red beardiness. It isn't terribly flattering. It also itches.

He's also taken off the top of his pajamas, wondering if he can get some Sponsor gifts just by standing there and flexing those carved superhero muscles every few minutes. Occasionally he drops and does some pushups before horning in on what Sherlock's working on.

"I ain't a hardware nizzle and I don't work hoopties." It's not an excuse - he still wants to try. He's also hauled the corpse-cleaning robot over and has pulled a sensor out of it. He holds it up to Sherlock and Carlos. "Pretty sure this is their hound."