My name is Walter O'Brien.
I have the fourth highest IQ ever recorded: 197.
Einstein's was 160.
When I was 11, the FBI arrested me for hacking NASA
to get their blueprints for my bedroom wall.
Now I run a team of geniuses,
tackling worldwide threats only we can solve.
Toby's our behaviorist.
Sylvester's a human calculator.
Happy, a mechanical prodigy.
Agent Cabe Gallo's our government handler.
And Paige? Well, Paige isn't like us.
She's normal and translates the world for us
while we help her understand her genius son.
Together, we are Scorpion.
We're clear on the prize?
Winner goes home with two cars.
That have the latest nav system?
For a guy who's never done this, you're awful cocky.
Have you calculated your tire traction coefficients?
Specific to barometric pressure? 'Cause I have.
And about 50 other variables.
Statistically, you have no chance.
Green means go.
We never agreed on a course, just the finish line.
Oh!
That truck was obviously not in my research.
I'll take those keys.
I actually can't give you this car.
It's a...
it's a rental.
Awful risky there, pal.
It's at nearly a perfect 45-degree angle.
How 'bout you just drink it?
Your dad...
Drew's gonna... be here soon.
You excited for the baseball game?
I'm very... excited.
Yeah, you seem like it.
Oh...
So now you owe a Lamborghini to a man named Slavomir?
With a Serbian gang tattoo.
Great guy to owe a debt.
No, no, no. The question is
how to face the same obstacle and still manage to win.
You accelerate toward the driver's back fender,
he passes your plane, and you won't lose speed.
But the better question might be,
why the hell were you doing this?
It's a hobby.
Or you're trying to distract yourself. Question is, from what?
Hey.
Uh, they're in the kitchen.
Thanks.
- Gentlemen. - Hey, just a sec...
Ralph's still finishing breakfast.
Is it a coincidence
that this behavior syncs with Drew showing up last week?
Pure coincidence. Pure.
I found this stuffed in Ralph's backpack.
Algebra quiz, D-minus.
He said he just...
forgot to study.
- He could have nailed this dead asleep. - Yeah.
Is everything all right with Ralph and Drew?
I thought so.
Drew's trying. He's taking him
to a minor league baseball game today.
But then I see this.
Maybe you can talk to Ralph?
Give him a little pep talk?
Yeah, sure. Yeah.
Okay.
Ralph.
Why don't you come here for a second.
Walter wants to talk to you.
Hey.
So...
Are you frustrated?
Are you distracted?
You angry?
Because this...
this is not you.
Maybe that's a good thing.
I need to go.
Sylvester Dodd. Oh, hi, Cabe.
Okay, have fun.
What do you mean by that? Let me get Walter.
I couldn't get anywhere.
Thanks for trying.
Okay, so Cabe gave me a bit of a rundown.
Okay.
Hey, Cabe.
I just don't know if I can handle seeing a murder victim.
This is not gonna be good.
None of us are excited about it.
If you're all mentally prepared, inside.
Oh, no, no.
Oh... ah.
Ooh.
Oh.
- Oh, that man is very dead. - Take it easy, Sylvester.
Look anywhere but the body.
Detective Jim Archer.
Robbery Homicide.
So you're the geniuses.
Word got to my lieutenant
about you. I mean, he's why you're here.
But I'm running this.
Mm-hmm. It's a pleasure to be here.
Does the dead man have a name?
Harold Reid, 25 years old.
Look, the reason you're here is...
He obviously had a tremendous appreciation for music.
Yeah, he was a music industry blogger.
He had a site called SweetSound Express.
How could someone cut short a life in its prime?
Unless he was involved in some nefarious activity and he deserved it.
Devil's advocate.
We're thinking window entry.
No. Door.
The lock's undamaged, but there's a little something
glistening on the inside edge.
Like if the perp knocked, the kid answered and, bam,
the bad guy hit him on the head with the door and moved in.
You were gonna tell us the reason why we're here?
Right behind you.
Looks like some math equation.
Oh. I think I can fill this in.
The place was picked clean.
Desktop and laptop gone. But there was this whiteboard.
It appears to be wiped down in a hurry.
Maybe what was erased is similar to these scraps?
But we have no idea what it means.
It's an algorithm, an optimizer.
Plug in a collection of variables... say, uh...
player statistics for a baseball team.
That was fast.
What would a music blogger want with it?
It's specific to a certain product.
I'm not sure what.
Okay, more importantly, does it have anything to do
with who killed Reid?
There's redundant code.
It's a programmer's way of ensuring authorship.
So, it's, um, like a painter signing a canvas.
He's using ASCII. It's American Standard Code. It's how, uh,
a computer stores the alphabet.
80 stands for P, 84 stands for T.
P, PT, PT.
PT repeated.
It's got to be initials.
Peyton Temple.
Peyton Temple was a name found on Reid's phone records.
Well, if he wrote this, I'd like to ask him
what he was using the equation to optimize.
You... you'd like to ask him?
Mm-hmm.
This could be the killer.
This could be anyone.
How's your handle on Frame Invocation Theory?
Because he used it in this equation,
and it might be helpful to understand it fully.
I'll look up an address on Peyton Temple, and...
let's go for a ride.
I'm almost past the firewall
on SweetSound Express. That's Reid's music blog.
There are numerous references
to an upcoming post on something called “The Hit Wizard "".
Uh, there's no explanation past that.
Toby, anything on Peyton Temple?
It's an old article about him being a child music prodigy.
Synthesizer, electronic sound. There's not much past that.
But I did find this, though.
No answer, so we'll circle back.
Okay, what if, uh, Reid's cell phone GPS
indicated that he was here at Temple's house
for about three hours last night?
Would that validate entering the premises?
How did you get that information?
It's not like we hacked his account.
Interesting, but not enough for a warrant,
so we'll circle back.
See you at the garage.
Where's Walter going?
Um...
Walter, is your mind on the homicide,
or is this the same agitation from earlier?
Oh, I think you've overshot your analysis of me for today.
You are hunting big adrenaline game
because of your high intelligence.
You will keep stalking bigger thrills
unless you deal with your issues.
High-risk activities aren't an emotional distraction.
They are relaxing.
When risk is involved, it occupies my entire brain,
freeing me from other thoughts.
It's meditative.
He's practicing Freudian displacement.
It's when you pursue one thing,
but you're really thinking about another.
So, him jumping the fence?
He's meditating.
Walter? Walter?
What are you doing?
Temple spent three hours
with Reid just before he wound up dead.
Either he killed Reid, or he knows something about it.
Worth some effort.
Oh!
Okay, okay... Back again, huh?
You know, if you came here to harm me,
you're pretty stupid to show up unarmed.
Actually, I have a 197 IQ, but I will grant you
I've been engaging in some, uh, risky behavior.
Now, I like... I like dogs,
but, uh, if you call yours off
we could talk about a murder...
you're involved in.
Come on, Bubba.
For real, you think I had something to do
with Reid getting killed?
He was my friend. You're insane.
Especially you.
Hard to argue at the moment, Mr. Temple.
You still haven't given us
an explanation for your whereabouts
during the time of the murder.
Because I don't know you.
My friend is dead,
you're the second person to invade my house today,
I have no clue why
and no idea why I should trust you people.
I am law enforcement, on LAPD order.
And if this happened earlier, why didn't you call police?
I was going to, but to be honest, I was scared.
And last night, I was working at a studio in Burbank.
There's ten people who'll confirm.
We're gonna need those names.
But let's, maybe, start over.
Take a breath.
We're here to help.
Octave Cat?
The ultimate synthesizer.
It's dusty.
I have one just like it.
I built it from parts.
It's the perfect synthesis of sound and engineering.
I'm sorry. It may not look it,
but there's an order here I don't want disturbed.
Thank you.
Sound and engineering.
You're a music prodigy.
The algorithm you wrote was a music program.
Reid was a music blogger.
But what is it being used for?
What does it calculate the perfect version of?
If it was what Reid was calling “the Hit Wizard,”
we may have the answer.
I invented a program to aggregate data
from every hit pop song from the last 50 years.
With minor variations in input...
gender of artist, time signature...
crank out a mathematically “perfect” pop tune.
And this is being used today?
Macklemore!
That's the only explanation.
Or not, Toby.
Two weeks ago, some employees were listening to the radio
and I heard some songs I'm certain used the technology.
Someone copied you?
It was taken off a hard drive
that was stolen from this house ten months ago.
Hence the dog.
Do you suspect anyone?
I only talked about it with other like minds.
Mathematical types.
But... can't trust anyone.
But you heard the song, you told Reid
and he wanted to write about it?
Yeah, I heard that song and six others.
All hits, major artists, playing now.
You should be, like, a zillionaire.
I'd rather just have my friend back and get on with my life.
Well, any credible artist would be shredded
if their hits were revealed to have been
written by a machine. It is good motive.
It could be an artist,
record company, management... I have no idea.
You let us help.
We'll help compile a list of suspects.
Look.
I'm not trying to open this up
to potentially threaten more people.
You understand? This is my fault.
My friend is dead, all right?
All in secret, then.
You'll only reveal the list to me.
And if someone's after you, you're gonna need protection.
I'll run it all through LAPD.
Come on.
I'll show you my Octave.
That sounded dirty.
Maybe it was supposed to.
He's cute.
These songs, these artists.
Almost certain they used the technology.
Okay, so the question is not only who had the most to lose
from it being exposed, but who would kill to keep it quiet?
Well, it's not gonna be a short list.
The music business is disgusting, so heads up.
Is that why you left it all behind?
I believed in what I was playing and no one else did.
Didn't get much of a response from the media
or the labels. So...
I gave it up.
Decided to put it in a box.
So you invented a smart algorithm,
which is also very cynical.
It's bubble-gum pop.
Yeah, I just thought I could make a couple extra bucks.
Why didn't you rewrite the program after it was stolen?
Reid wanted me to.
He was always saying, “Fight back,” and...
I would have, if he were still, um...
I mean, how many times do I need to get screwed
before I learn my lesson, you know?
Guess I'm just not meant to be in the music business.
Artist who hates his own art.
How certain are we that Ke$ha is on this list?
Not at all.
And who cares?
Why are you so fascinated by who's making fake music?
I am an indefatigable seeker of the truth.
I have a visceral reaction
when the world tries to sell me caca,
and this list is gonna confirm my instincts.
You're real fun.
What a hoot of a boyfriend you'd make.
Did you hear that?
Yeah, she just laid you out.
She just referenced me in the same sentence as “boyfriend.”
I have the world's most perfect instincts.
I saw this coming.
Monster Trucks?
A legit first date.
With real keepsake ducats.
Just need to find the right time to ask.
What about now?
Eh...
She was showing this vague interest
in our new friend earlier.
I need her mind clear.
Is what you're doing also Freudian displacement?
Because you're afraid of being rejected?
Maybe for someone else?
Music is sexy.
Ah. Were you, like, a groupie or something?
Absolutely not.
Interesting body language.
It's defensive, turning away,
yet eyes begging for follow-up.
I was thinking about Drew and Ralph at the baseball game.
Just confess.
There may have been a time I gave singing a shot.
- Well, let's hear it. - No.
It's private now. For me to listen to
when I'm feeling nostalgic.
Hey, guys?
Temple pointed us to a suspect.
I think we have someone.
Lucky the King.
Manages hard-core hip hop artists.
Has two songs on the list, his only Top 40 hits.
Goes to logic.
Guy whose roster is all about
street credibility... he would lose a fortune
if it came out that his artists were using
a machine to generate hits.
Oh, yeah. His company would collapse.
And he's psycho, so there's that.
He's been shot three separate times.
Four bullets are still in his body.
Cabe said that there were several calls
to Lucky's management, so they were in contact.
But that does not get us a warrant.
Yeah. And there's no way Lucky's talking to the cops
if they walk through the door.
You know what I'd do?
Get in this guy's face
and just accuse him of being involved.
Brilliant.
It is. Because I'd have planted
a listening device in his office.
Yeah, if he was involved,
his next conversation would be to his accomplice
or... if he farmed it out... the killer.
Yeah, that's a good idea, gettin' in his face.
You heard me just say he was psycho, right?
I got no problem with that.
I'm gonna go with you and help you plant the bug.
Whoa, whoa... Go with me?
Why do I have to go?
Well, he used your technology.
He'll talk to you.
You can pretend I'm your security.
Or I'm a friend looking for an audition.
I do have a history as a battle rapper.
Please do not subject us to an example.
Hey. You could be his lawyer.
I've done that before.
My research said
the basement entrance is around the side.
We'll go set up down there.
Lucky the King has a Lambo.
Reminds me of a debt someone owes.
We doing this or what, man?
'Cause I'm kind of freaking out.
Yeah, uh, you're just gonna have a little conversation.
Toby will pick out the bug.
Everything will be fine.
Really? Because I'm freaking out, too,
so do you believe that,
or are you just saying that because you feel no fear?
- You don't feel fear? - No.
That's really great to hear right now.
Don't worry.
With you in the room,
there's very little chance he'll resort to violence.
Look... whoever you guys are,
whatever firm you're with...
Melvoy and Grant.
Yeah. Whatever.
I have no idea what theft you're talking about, okay?
These songs were written by professionals
and overseen by me.
We both know that's not true.
Those songs were written by my client's stolen software.
I don't got no clue what you're talking about.
Rest assured, if we wanted to prove
theft and usage, we could.
Our client just wants a few minutes of your time
in front of witnesses.
Or we could file a lawsuit.
In which case, you might want to
change the name of the company to Temple Management,
because he will own this office
and your cars and every asset
- you've ever possessed. - Okay.
Before we start serving papers here,
can I just talk to you privately?
I mean, I hate the idea of a lawsuit.
Yeah.
I don't know who you are or what the hell you want...
Okay, look, I don't want your money.
I called this guy out of a Yellow Pages,
'cause I knew I couldn't get in without a lawyer.
Well, you and your lawyers are about to get tossed out of here.
Just hear me out, okay?
Do you know Harold Reid?
I don't know who you're talking about, man.
Come on, man, you know him.
He called you asking about the same program I am.
All right, I hear you...
Mr... uh, Mr. Curtis...
Do you have the time?
Uh, I'm sorry, I don't.
Okay.
Sit down.
I couldn't do it.
He got killed.
Policeman called me asking about it, using your name.
Now, I don't want to have anything to do with it.
You can keep the money, you can keep the program.
Plant it under your seat.
It's got to be closer to the phone.
Give it to me.
I just don't want my life threatened again.
I had nothing to do with a threat on your life.
Because if I was going to threaten you,
I'd have your little ass curled up in a corner,
weeping like a child.
Okay.
Think we're good here, guys.
We should probably leave.
You all want to sue me?
Sue me.
Just get the hell out of my office.
Walter, anything?
He's dialing the phone from the line in his office.
Must be something he wants kept private.
We may be on to something.
You're kidding.
This actually worked?
Hello, this is Ocean West I.T. Services for business...
Doesn't sound like he's calling an assassin.
Maybe it's code.
Or maybe he does have Internet problems.
What kind of hip-hop mogul deals with his own Web service issues?
A control freak?
So?
So, we'll keep monitoring him,
but maybe he is a control freak.
Either way, the killer is still out there.
The hell was that?
Something not normal.
Let's discuss it outside the van.
Maybe a short in the AC?
Whoa!
I'm completely shocked. My-my hands are still shaking.
Van's blown to hell, and he swore up and down
that he had no clue about the car bomb.
I could swear to be the Queen of England,
it doesn't make it true.
His alibi for Reid's murder...
he was at his daughter's fourth-grade adaptation
of “Paul Revere's Midnight Ride.”
Said we could confirm it with his head of security
and every parent that was in the audience.
That doesn't mean he didn't hire it out.
Well, if he did, he's not telling us about it.
He named a very powerful attorney, he's done talking.
All right, we'll need area surveillance footage,
anything that shows the van, whoever planted that bomb.
Stay close to the garage.
Someone's trying to wipe this kid out,
and doesn't care who he wipes out with him.
This might be more than you can chew.
Peanuts?
You feeling okay?
Okay, whoever bombed us, they've probably been following us
since the first time we went to Temple's house.
You say that like people go around bombing other people.
Uh, empathy's not his strong suit.
Aftermath photos show they wired right into the ignition switch.
The bomber wasn't adept enough to tighten everything,
or we wouldn't have gotten that ten second warning.
You know, the more I think about it,
the less I want to see that list
of the artists who used the Hit Wizard.
Not what we're talking about, Toby.
I mean, what if Jack White is on that list.
I can't handle that.
He's not.
Drew?
Is everything all right?
No, maybe this was a bad idea.
It's Ralph, he-he's, uh...
not having a good time.
He hasn't said a word all day.
I told you he can be quiet.
I-I know, but maybe baseball wasn't the right call.
Well, you're his dad, so...
find some common ground.
You ready for another professional assessment?
You gonna deny Ralph your help?
Can I, um... can I speak to him for a second?
Oh, uh...
Walter wants to get on.
Okay.
Hey.
You may consider buying a program
and showing Ralph all the player statistics.
Then asking him if he can try to improve fielder placement
and the batting order, he may enjoy that.
Thanks.
Thank you.
I got something.
Guy walks like military, cop or both.
He's packing.
Under his shirt and on his ankle.
Security.
He's gonna be a security guy.
Lucky had that security thug in the office.
His alibi witness was his head of protection.
So, whoever planted that bomb, like I said,
they could have been hired out.
Show me getting out of his car.
Stop, he didn't account for that camera angle.
That placard says Night Ridge Security.
Heavy in the music business.
Everybody in law enforcement knows these guys.
It's big money.
If a rich music biz dude wanted to get rid
of Reid and our friend Temple, they could hire the job out.
This guy's I.D. would
most certainly be in Night Ridge's files.
Warrant'll take days.
But I may have a work around.
Skirt the law a little.
Cabe? Skirting the law?
Walter is rubbing off on him.
I take it personally when someone goes after one of our own.
I'll explain in the car.
This may be a little...
I'm in! I'm past Night Ridge's security.
You are?
Not surprising.
Security firms, not so tough.
Scanning the face from the surveillance video
against Night Ridge personnel files.
Got him.
The guy in the surveillance video is Dustin McBride.
Ex-military, ex-cop.
Here's his home address.
I'll get this to Archer in Robbery Homicide.
If this guy, McBride, tried to kill you,
it's likely he killed Reid.
We'll let LAPD handle grabbing him up.
Okay, so, what do we do now?
Go ahead and make the arrest, or...?
It's in LAPD's hands now.
We need to stay here and find out who hired McBride.
Why don't I show you my Octave.
Here's the one I rebuilt.
Honestly, I don't know much about how it plays, but...
it's a beautiful machine.
Cars, tractors, elevators, I love machines.
Analog amplifiers, pristine socket chips.
Perfect transistors.
I'll bet the sound is as warm as a cat in the sun, huh?
Fire it up.
Nah, I haven't played in so long, I'm definitely rusty.
I put all this away a long time ago.
But I should get going home.
Just want to call and check in on Reid's folks, if that's okay.
You know, uh, I'll give you a ride.
You shouldn't be alone before this is all wrapped up.
You've already done enough, man, helping me out with all this, so...
You know, there are similarities between you and us.
Come on, man, there are no similarities.
I'm not one of you.
I barely ever leave my house.
Well, we have support.
That's the difference.
Makes me miss my friend.
I wish I had advice for you,
but I'm bad with emotional conversations.
My advice for you...
don't hide.
From anything.
Nothing good comes from it.
Whoa!
Hey, Walt, you there?
Hey, Walter.
Electrocuted twice in one day.
That has to be a record.
You got a look at his face?
Yeah, I'm certain it was Dustin McBride.
Could've just killed Temple.
They must want him for something.
We know that McBride is security,
the question is... for who?
McBride's file at Night Ridge has a list
of 20 regular clients.
Get what you can on all 20 names.
Too diffuse.
But that list of the artists who used the Hit Wizard program,
the one you went over with Temple,
Maybe you needed a behaviorist going over that list.
In the loft.
Oh, my God...
“Anywhere But Here” was written by a computer?
That's impossible.
And “Hold On.” Walter, I don't think I can handle this.
Hey, numbnuts, buckle down.
We got a man to save.
Legitimate acts, singer-songwriters.
Careers built on a foundation of credibility.
Stray Silence.
Sean Redclay... fraud would torpedo them.
That would be like
if you heard Springsteen was on this list.
He's not, thank God.
They're all managed by an Owen Sugar.
He's on the Night Ridge list, a client of Dustin McBride.
One guy managing three clients
that would have been ruined at the reveal of the Hit Wizard.
That's a fortune in lost revenue.
We need to find out where he lives.
Oh, Pantheon Villas in West Hollywood.
Huge parties, furious neighbors.
Owen Sugar's in the tabloids all the time.
Happy, get your laptop.
And every surveillance tool you have.
We'll do the research of the building layout in the car.
And we're not calling Cabe because...
why involve authorities when confronting a killer?
We're not confronting him, we'll be next door.
Then we may confront him.
Let's go, move!
I see McBride.
Here.
Yeah, that's Owen Sugar.
The one on the left.
Happy, any sign of Temple?
I see a body.
Is he alive?
Heat signature says yes.
But he's not moving.
Guys.
We didn't snatch him to watch him sleep,
we need to know who him and his friend, Harold Reid, talked to.
Until we find out how wide this went,
we can't start cleaning it up.
I'll rouse him.
All right, get him talking, then, hey, put him down.
Make him go away, okay?
Uh, we can't let that happen.
There's the back staircase.
It's like a fire escape.
It leads to Sugar's service entrance.
Can you get past the lock?
Walter, please.
Okay, before we do anything,
we'll need to get Temple out of there.
Now, Toby, I'll need help hauling him if he can't walk.
Paige, Sylvester, you watch from here.
Warn us if McBride goes anywhere near that back room.
And call Cabe.
Sugar's on the phone.
What did I say?
I can't see McBride.
Yeah, nothing to it.
Uh-huh.
No, we're here.
Just do what I told you to do.
Thank you.
And call me immediately. I want to hear.
It's him! It's Temple!
Temple, wake up.
Poor guy.
We need to move fast.
Uh, uh, guys?
Guys, McBride is on his way to the kitchen
where's he grabbing garbage bags and duct tape.
Are we clear to go?
Oh, he's coming towards you.
Wait, he-he's stopped.
He's talking to Sugar. I'd say you got
- five seconds to get out of there. - Plan B.
No, no, no, no! We can go right now!
We go, McBride comes back wondering where Temple is.
And the first place he's gonna look is the back stairway.
- So Plan B. Happy, you're prepared just in case? - I'm prepared.
You're paying attention to this heroism, correct?
Oh, you crazy shrink!
Mr. Sugar, a million apologies
for barging in, but I tried your office 20 times.
And I knew if you just heard one song,
you'd know what kind of gold mine you were talking to.
He's a dead man.
Your boy Toby Curtis.
Right?
Guys, we're all intelligent adults, business people.
I am well aware of the age old struggle,
between artist and management.
Walter!
It's Toby! He's in trouble!
Happy, keep going, keep going.
Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!
We have Peyton Temple.
You pull him up, we'll take you to Temple.
He's who you want.
Not us.
What the hell? Get him up.
Happy, they've got them at gunpoint.
Temple's at our headquarters downtown.
No police, no protection.
Why are you bending over for them?
What choice do we have?
They're gonna kill us, too.
No, they're businessmen, right?
Let's go.
Come on, move.
There's no Muzak.
Just saying.
It's really worth killing over?
Pop songs?
Stop talking.
The artistry, you know?
Touching people's souls?
Hey, what are you doing with your hands?
What the hell was that?!
I love machines.
Come on out, fellas.
Geez, Walt.
You know, it's like everyone in L.A. has a Lambo but you.
The LAPD extends their thanks and asks a favor.
Found this in Sugar's condo.
Figure out what's on it.
It may belong to your friend.
So, if we could prove that Owen Sugar used stolen.
Hit Wizard money to buy this car,
would it be confiscated? Auctioned for cheap?
By... tonight?
Try, like, three years.
That's it. That's my algorithm.
The Hit Wizard.
Oh. Here's a log of who hired Sugar to use it.
Matches your artist list exactly.
Millions in revenue.
Give us five minutes to log everything
on the hard drive for Cabe
- and then we'll give it back to you again. - Cool.
I was pleased to hear you didn't drop off that roof.
You appreciated my heroism?
It was idiotic.
But ballsy.
Um...
Happy?
Just curious, what are your plans for...?
What I've missed the most in all the years since I gave it up
is the perfection of harmony.
See, a machine can only copy it, can't make it
because the perfection is in the tiny mistakes.
Which makes it human.
Oh, you know it?
♪ Can't take my eyes off of you ♪
Come on in.
♪ You'd be like heaven to touch ♪
♪ I want to hold you so much ♪
♪ At long last, love has arrived ♪
♪ And I thank God I'm alive ♪
♪ You're just too good to be true ♪
♪ Can't take my eyes off of you. ♪
Uh, oh.
Oh, Ralph.
How was your day? Good?
- Hi. - Mm-hmm.
- Hey. - Thank you for your Moneyball idea.
Ralph really engaged.
- He loved it. - Mm-hmm.
Um...
you seem to have something more on your mind.
Well, I know baseball.
And when I tried to talk to Ralph about it
from my perspective, he didn't get it.
And then I gave him the idea, your idea.
And he's talking to me about statistics and probabilities.
And then I didn't get it.
I just wish there was a way for us speak the same baseball.
You wait here.
Okay, batter up.
Yowzah!
When it spins, air passes faster over one side of the ball,
reducing air pressure.
That's Bernoulli's principle.
Now, when the ball gets dragged down
that's the Magnus effect.
Okay, Drew?
That Ralph is high heat.
Comes at the top of the order.
Shows them you mean business.
Cool.
Now, Drew?
Try to release a quarter second later.
Okay.
That was Major League style.
Okay, so, with that in mind,
go tell your dad he's doing a good job.
- This is working. - Mm.
You know, I-I think
Ralph failed his test to better fit in with Drew.
He doesn't want him to go away again.
Yeah, but he can't deny his genius.
That's who he is.
That's who Drew needs to get to know.
You know, I'll help.
Can I ask you something... crazy?
You got plans tonight?
All right, that was inappropriate.
Are you into drag races?
I actually built a funny car once.
Great.
There's a rally in Pomona.
You know what? I am.
You want to go?
Yeah. Why not?
Nice.
Okay, well...
enjoy your billions.
I was angry when I wrote this program.
And I didn't want anything to do with music.
But now I think I just don't want anything
to do with bad music.
I don't want to be a fake.
Reid didn't want me living scared.
All these years, I could've been doing something great.
It's better late than never.
You're right.
You are so... right,
Happy.
So right!
Hey.
How can I repay you, man?
Whoa, well, I got you, um, drugged,
kidnapped, almost blown up.
So I-I think we're even. Yeah.
Unless you got a spare Lambo lying around.
Well, you're gonna need Lucky the King money for that.
- Thanks, man. - Yeah, sure.
You, too.
Think I can borrow Lucky the King's car?
No.
Not unless you've got something he wants.
Router speed is ten times what it was.
It will never break down, and from now on, it's free.
OITNB coming in clear?
Damn, King, looks like it's in HD.
All right.
Have it back first thing in the morning.
Mm-hmm.
Any damage will be met with extreme violence.
So...
double or nothing?