[GLARE.] A good record that you just broke. Emmet, if you push your luck you'll end up even worse off! You know better than that, even if it was for a supposedly short amount of time.
I'm good at realizing my limitations, even if you like to be extra safe, Ingo. I'm far from reaching the end of my line! This car is running at nearly full efficiency, with only aesthetic damage.
That hand injury is not merely aesthetic. [It might be, later, but right now it's still actually damaged.]
The recovery time was doctor's orders, Emmet. Why must you insist on ignoring that? [Get the heck back in that bed, mister. You're seriously upsetting him.]
Yes, but Ingo, I have a good hand to use. So I'm not using the bad one, and making it worse! And "recovery" for the hand meant any sort of exercise with it, specifically. Walking around isn't going to damage it worse.
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Alright, we better hurry home before they melt! I'll race you!
[AND EMMET TAKES OFF.]
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Dammit Emmet he is never letting you out of the house again. Fine. Fine. He'll bolt on over to the house.
Ingo is going to kill him.]no subject
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But no, he only runs fast enough to keep up with Emmet. This isn't a fair race anyway.]
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Alright, let's get in here and eat some ice cream.
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And then you're going back to bed. [For real. No excuses.]
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Good! So no telling Ingo what we did, truce?
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Truce. [You're not the one that would get in trouble anyway.]
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Yep.]
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He fixes Emmet with most of the dirty look, but when Silver copies what Emmet says he gets some of it too. WHAT WAS THAT]
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[GRR ARRGH GRR (fuss fuss)]
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[Emmet just snorts, brushing it off and heading into the kitchen to put the ice cream into the freezer.]
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He shakes his head in irritation, but then looks over at Silver when he speaks up, and softens-- a little.]
...No. He's-- good at getting the train to go down his preferred track. [He doesn't blame you too much.]
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The recovery time was doctor's orders, Emmet. Why must you insist on ignoring that? [Get the heck back in that bed, mister. You're seriously upsetting him.]
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