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Chapter 68: Leonard's Lecture
"You might want to put on some pants," Sheldon said, pointing at the video feed coming from the toy car hooked up to Howard's laptop.
The camera angle clearly showed what Penny was wearing under her skirt.
"Ahhh!" Penny let out a yelp, clutched her skirt in a panic, and bolted from the room.
Leonard, ever the loyal simp, stood torn between chasing after her or continuing to enjoy the accidental upskirt shot preserved on Howard's feed.
In the end, the latter won. He didn't move an inch.
Ron leaned back, watching the four scientists now arguing over whether Howard—once turned into a robot—should get a "robotic circumcision" as part of his upgrades.
He couldn't help but think:
This... this is the life.
Way better than the endless bloodshed and gunfire he was used to.
Even watching Sheldon and Leonard bicker over a lecture invitation was more entertaining than dealing with greasy fried-chicken dealers or a certain ex-brother-in-law meth-cooking chemist.
No matter the excuse—dealing drugs is wrong. Period.
Just then, Howard and Raj crept over to Ron with all the subtlety of teenagers sneaking out past curfew.
"Hey Ron," Howard said in a hushed tone, "When's the next time you can take us to a bar?"
Ron raised an eyebrow. "Wait… don't tell me you still haven't sealed the deal with those two girls from last time?"
He was genuinely surprised.
Those tattooed girls they argued with at the bar that night—especially the one who went toe-to-toe with Caroline—were absolute top tier in terms of the kind of women these two nerds usually pulled (read: none).
Ron had personally seen them all head into the hotel together.
There was no way these two could've fumbled that hard... right?
Howard looked sheepish. "Everything was going fine… until I tried helping her undress, and my fake tattoo sleeve got caught on her earring and ripped."
...
That was—by far—the dumbest excuse Ron had ever heard.
But somehow, with these two idiots, it also made perfect sense.
"Okay then," Ron said, raising an eyebrow. "So… just out of curiosity… where exactly did your sleeve get caught?"
"Top!"
"Bottom!"
The two answered simultaneously.
They stared at each other.
"Lucky dog..." Howard grumbled in envy. "I only got to the top."
Ron chuckled. "Alright, fine. I'll take you two back to the bar. But you'll owe me."
Perfect. He'd been trying to come up with a way to trick Howard into helping him out anyway.
Now the guy was practically offering to do it for free—and dragging Raj along as a bonus.
"Sure!" they said eagerly. Four nerdy eyes gleamed with excitement.
"Even if you wanted us to rob a bank, we'd be in!"
Ron waved his hand dismissively. "Calm down, fellas. If I ever do rob a bank, I promise I won't be calling you two. You combined probably couldn't carry one bag of cash between you."
"No, what I need is something smaller.
A little high-tech toy. And frankly, you two are the only people I know who could pull it off.
Don't worry, I'll pay you for your work."
Seeing them look down, slightly ashamed by his jab at their lack of strength, Ron quickly added,
Truth be told, in this country where "everyone's a winner" and gym class barely exists, finding muscleheads like himself was easy.
He had several back in college.
But finding real tech talent? Damn near impossible.
It's not like America lacked talent—far from it. As the leading global power, the U.S. attracted elite minds from around the world.
But most of those geniuses were holed up in top universities or locked inside tech companies.
Convincing them to help with a personal project? Yeah, right.
Ron wasn't delusional enough to think the little bit of budget he had could support a full-blown R&D initiative anyway.
Instead, he'd keep it simple.
Let Raj handle the design.
Let Howard do the hands-on work.
Build it off a pre-existing remote-controlled toy platform.
Ron explained his concept and requirements to the two resident perverts, and Howard—without even thinking—agreed on the spot.
"You're sure this is doable?" Ron asked, a little suspicious that Howard's libido was clouding his engineering judgment.
"Of course it is," Howard replied confidently. "It's just a quadcopter.
Add a remote sensor and the storage compartment you mentioned, and we're golden."
He reopened his laptop, already sketching out the plans.
Raj occasionally chimed in with a bit of wisdom here and there, refining the design even further.
Not even the bickering between Sheldon and Leonard could disrupt their focus.
"These letters are from the Institute of Experimental Physics," Leonard said, raising his voice, excitement practically spilling out of his undersized frame.
"They want us to present our paper on supersolidity at a conference focused on Bose–Einstein condensates!"
"I know," Sheldon replied flatly, rummaging through the fridge for some water. "I saw them before I threw them out."
Leonard frowned in confusion. "Let me rephrase the question: Why exactly did you throw them out?"
"Because I have no interest in giving a lecture in the Rose Room of a Marriott hotel," Sheldon said matter-of-factly, "to a bunch of strangers who like to nitpick but don't recognize real genius when it's standing right in front of them."
Ron shrugged. Same old Sheldon.
Still the same recipe. Still full of himself.
"I don't know if you'll regret not going," Howard said, not looking up from his sketches, "but their afterparties are amazing~"
"Totally," Raj chimed in, nodding enthusiastically. "Endless Boston lobster! If you're not going, maybe I can take your spot?"
Some habits die hard. Even someone from a wealthy Indian family like Raj couldn't resist a freebie.
"I'm not doing this for the afterparty," Leonard huffed.
"Of course not," Ron said dryly. "You're doing it for validation. Let's be honest here, Dr. Hofstadter. I sincerely recommend therapy for that."
His words hit like a sledgehammer—straight and brutal.
Sheldon looked up, genuinely impressed. "Ron, that's the most accurate thing I've heard you say in over twenty years."
From the couch, Ron gave a mock tip-of-the-hat without even getting up.
Getting praise from Sheldon?
That was practically Nobel-tier.
"I don't need a therapist," Leonard snapped back instinctively. "Sheldon, we have to go to this."
"I'm not going."
"Fine! Don't go. But I am," Leonard said, finally giving up on trying to reason with him and heading to his room to find clothes.
"You can't," Sheldon countered calmly. "Because I'm the first author."
"Oh please," Leonard shot back. "You're only listed first because the names were ordered alphabetically!"
"That's what I let you believe," Sheldon replied smugly.
"So you wouldn't have to face the humiliating truth—that I came up with the entire concept.
Not to be blunt, but I pity you."
He paused just long enough to let it sting.
"You're welcome."
Even Howard and Raj—still working on Ron's "toy" design—paused and looked up.
Yeah. The room was officially tense.