Dizziness May Occur

Quinn looked down at the plain brown box. "Instructions?" she asked.

"In the box," Artie said, tapping it.

"Puck thinks you're going to make us filthy rich this time," Quinn said. She didn't regret investing in Artie's inventions on Puck's recommendation but so far all they'd done was break even.

"It's something new," Artie said. "I've applied for several patents. If we can license them, we should do well. Millions might be optimistic but we'll do more than break even, even if we have to build them ourselves."

"As long as you don't want me doing assembly," Quinn said, remembering an evening spent helping put together demo models of one of his earlier inventions.

"Definitely not," Artie said, grimacing.

"I wasn't that bad," Quinn protested weakly.

"No," Artie said, "But assembling delicate electronic parts? Not something I recommend you consider for a future career."

"Not a problem," Quinn said. "Are you going to need more money for this?"

"We're covered," he said. "The last funding round from you, Puck, and Santana covered the prototype."

"Good," Quinn said, standing up. "Any other instructions?"

"This is a prototype. So be careful," Artie said.

"Of course," Quinn said. "So, tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow," he said.