Reg's hand grips the gun a little too hard--not the trigger, thankfully--and he inhales at the full name. His full name always means trouble, since the only person to really call him Reginald consistently had been his dad, and Dan's--

--Mmmm, yeah, he's not in the mood to try to figure out whatever conflicting emotions he gets when he looks at Dan. He's not going to even open that can of worms, no sir, not now, it doesn't matter than Dan's rough, annoyed voice is one of the most weirdly soothing things he's ever heard.

"I'm holding you to that tech talk," he promises. "You're going to help me override the next Eyebot that wanders around--do you have those, here?" He hasn't seen one in a while. One tiny, furitive glance over at his friend and he knows he's starting to push his luck, so he sighs.

He's not a fan of being bad at things, even if he's bad at a lot. Tech, medicine, science--those are his wheelhouses. Anything else's disappointment, Reggie hates disappointment most of all. He'll line his shot up, fire--

--hey, it's a marked improvement from how he started out. He hits the stand, not the bottle, but it's close. His grin is a mile wide, and he may or may not half-hop.