Fifteen to eighteen hours. Locked in. Great. Yeah, that sounds fun. Thanks for the good time, Clint.

Oh well.

"You owe me lots and lots of pizza for this. And there'd better be some cinnamon buns in there, too," Jim grumbles as he gets into the SUV. "And root beer. Not the shitty stuff, either. Also, you realize you haven't exactly told me what we're doing with the tech, right?"