~Cold Open~

"I don't need a father figure."

"Oh yeah? What, cuz you have such a great mother figure?"

"..."

"Thought so. Hand me that wrench." Rick stuck his hand out from underneath the pile of junk he was perched under, what he called his 'car'. It looked like garbage to Rachel. She was leaning against the table on the far side of the garage, scowling at the pair if legs sticking out from the heap Rick said would somehow fly. "Hey, whoohoo, wrench!"

"It's not my fault you feel guilty for abandoning your family. I don't see why I should have you inflicted on me because they weren't enough for you." She was trying to be nasty on purpose now, and Rick sighed heavily from under the car, and slid out suddenly, glaring up at the teenager. Getting to his feet, he dusted his jacket off, before walking right up to her. She glared defiantly into his face, nearly as tall as him.

"Wrench," he said simply, furrowing his brow. That threw Rachel off guard, and all she did was stutter in confusion.

"Huh?"

"Wrench." He repeated, and then reached past her, to the wrench sitting on the table behind her. "What are you, deaf?" He turned then and sat back down, shimmying back under the car.

"I'm trying to piss you off here!"

"Yeah, I know. Don't you think I know better than to let some weakass insults from a teenage girl hurt my feelings?"

"Weak?"

"'You abandoned your family, Rick, you're an asshole Rick!'" His impersonation of the girl's voice was terrible, and her face burned red in response. "Why don't you try telling me something I don't already know."

"Alright! You're a moron if I think I can't see why you're here!"

"Oh yeah?" Rick punctuated his response with a loud burp, one hand patting around the ground beside the car in search of his flask. "And why's that? What AM I here for?"

"You feel bad you left your daughter without a father and you're using me to alleviate your guilt. You don't know how to say sorry to people you hurt so you're trying to make up for it to people who you never hurt in the first place!"

"Or, or!" Still in search of his flask, he kept missing it, patting the ground everywhere it wasn't. "Maybe the brainwaves that result in my genius are a one is seven quintillion chance, and out of the infinite iterations of Earth in infinite iterations of the universe, they happened to replicate again in you. And maybe I'm smart enough to realize that if the multiverse is populated only by hyper intelligent Rick's, the one chance we have to capitalize on a completely separate and impressionable expression of genius is one we shouldn't pass up!" Finding his flask, he pulled it under the car with him, and Rachel could hear him take a swig, and burp again. "No, you're right, it's just to live out some redemption fantasy with you that I could have lived out with any girl, or any reiteration if my OWN daughter in another universe. How stupid of me."

"Eat shit, Rick, I know as well as anyone if there was someone as smart as you out there, every Rick in the multiverse would be scrambling to be the one to kill it." Rachel scowled as he looked out from under the car again.

"So, so what? You think other Ricks WEREN'T scrambling to kill you?"

"...Er….were they?" The two of them stared at each other for a long time, until Rick got back out from under the car, and shut the hood with a clang.

"Who knows. I'm just here to live out the fantasy of being a good dad, right?" Taking another drink, he offered the flask to Rachel, who looked from it to Rick warily.

"You're doing a terrible job you know." She took a sip of the liquor in the flask, making a face.

"Darn." Banging his fist once on the closed hood, a mechanical whirr kick-started the engine, and the heap of junk sprung to life. "Doing a better job than your real old man at least."

"Barely." she said. Rick smirked a little at that, and Rachel handed him back the flask.

"What do you know. That microverse battery of yours works."

"You doubted me?" The girl crossed her arms as she came to stand beside Rick. "The microverse battery is the only thing in this heap of junk that's worth anything."

"Okay okay, calm down, no need to bend over backwards kissing your own ass. The idea was good. Good job."

"Thank you." The two of them stood admiring their joint effort for a moment, before Rick moved to open the passenger side door.

"Alright, let's take this baby for a test drive!" He said, sliding into the passenger's seat.

"Aren't you gonna drive it?" Rachel asked.

"I am waaaaaay too sloshed to drive this thing," he said, leaning back in the chair, folding his arms behind his head.

"But you built it!"

"Look, are you gonna drive, or not?" Rachel whined, glancing from the less than perfect craftsmanship of the ship to the salt and peppered man making himself comfortable in the cockpit.

"You're not supposed to let anyone under 15 practice driving you know," she said, citing the driver's Ed manual she got at school.

"Nor am I supposed to let them drink or supervise the tessellation of a modified temporal field. Get in."

"You really are a terrible father figure." She didn't argue anymore, though, climbing into the driver's seat. Her feet barely reached the pedals. "Now what?"

"That's the thrust lever, and that one controls lift. Shift them both into gear at the same time and we should have liftoff." Rick leaned forward to indicate the levers, watching as Rachel uncertainly shifted both into gear, overshooting a bit, and suddenly sending them hurtling upwards, through the roof of their garage. "What the hell, Rachel!"

"You said shift them at the same time!" Grabbing hold of the wheel and stomping on the gas impulsively, the car jerked forward, before hurtling off to the right.

"After we'd cleared the garage! Now our roof is fucked up!"

"You shouldn't have let me drink and drive!" Spinning the wheel in the opposite direction to try and correct herself, they shot off in the opposite direction this time, both passengers pressed back firmly against their seats.

"Ease up on the gas, Rachel, Jesus!" Reaching over and grabbing the wheel from her, Rick steadied their trajectory as Rachel took her foot off the gas,instead stomping on the break. Her own seatbelt restrained her, but Rick wasn't wearing his, and ended up smacking face first into the windsheild.

"Oh Jesus!" She gasped, clapping her hands to her mouth as Rick pulled away from the glass, revealing a bloody nose. "Rick, are you okay!?"

"Aside from the massive concussion and whiplash you just gave me? Yup. Just peachy." Collapsing back into his seat, he groaned. "...Maybe I shouldn't have let you drive." There was a long pause after that statement, before Rachel burst out laughing. "What? What's funny?"

"I was right, and you were wrong! And you just admitted it!" She laughed, beaming.

"Whoa whoa, I said 'maybe.'" Rick couldn't help but smile as Rachel wiped her eyes, and turned back to the wheel. "Try not to kill us this time." After a bit more trial and error, but fortunately none as severe as that first onslaught, Rachel had the hovercraft cruising at a high altitude and a steady clip. She smiled to herself, glancing over at Rick. His eyes were closed and his nose had finally stopped bleeding.

"You know," she said, turning her gaze back to the open sky ahead of them. "I really don't need a father figure."

"Is that right?" Rick didn't open his eyes when he answered, just enjoying the steady pace of their flight.

"No. It was you after all that told me once that when given a non familial father figure, girls tend to take on an Electra complex anyway."

"What? When did I say that?" He did look up at that. "Was I shitfaced?"

"Yeah."

"Look, Rachel, don't listen to anything shitfaced Rick has to say. That guy's a dick."

"Didn't you say you're shitfaced right now?"

"Fuck, I am aren't I?" Rachel laughed again, swirling slightly to miss a flock of geese. "Listen, sometimes I'm just talking out of my ass. And you're a pain in MY ass but, trust me, that Electra complex thing isn't even real."

"I guess not. I can't imagine finding you anything but an aggravating douche."

"Okay, ouch. I can't imagine thinking you're anything more than a dumb brat."

"So we're even." She smiled, and the two of them sat in contented silence as they crossed the open ocean. And in that moment, Rachel was actually sort of glad Rick was using her to be rid of some of his guilt. She was actually pretty thankful that Rick was here. And she hoped that would never change.

~Episode One~

"Hey, Morty, hand me that wrench."

"You know what Summer? I'm sick of your shit!"

"Oh, you're sick of MY shit?"

"Y-yeah! I'm sick of it! Sick of all of it!"

"And how about you? You think I just LOVE walking in on you jerking it in every bathroom in the house!?"

"Morty, the wrench."

"That's what doors are for Summer! Doors! For knocking! You should try it sometime!"

"Maybe you should lock them then!"

"Jesus christ!" Standing up from his workbench, Rick shoved the swivel chair out of the way, sending it spinning, and shoved past his grandkids who thought it was just the perfect place to have their inane arguments in the middle of Rick's work space. "Can't a guy ever get his fucking wrench? What-...what is it with you kids and this fucking wrench?"

"Hey!" Summer whined, scowling as she was pushed out of the way.

"Huh?" Morty looked a bit confused by that comment, but quickly went back to glaring at his sister.

"Now if you two are done with whatever bullshit it is you're fighting about." Sneering at the two of them, Rick pressed the garage opener, and pointed outside to the driveway as it slowly slid up and out of the way. "Out. Now. Grandpa is working."

"You know Rick, this was our house before you came along," Morty said, crossing his arms.

"Yeah, we were technically here first, so maybe YOU should get out." Summer, ever the fickle teenager, gave her Grandpa that 'look' that Rick despised so much. The one with that tiny stupid half smirk that just boiled Rick's blood. That prissy bitch look that Rick liked to think came from Jerry but really came from Beth, ergo his own genes. Rick hated to see things he hated in his own grandkids, because it meant it had come from him.

"If you want to get technical, Summer, I was here first since I was born way before either of you. And Morty, Beth was MY daughter before she was YOUR mom so maybe the two of you should move out already and leave me the fuck alone?" He shrugged, not really going to enforce either of them leaving, but returned to his work bench with the wrench.

"We're beloved children," Summer countered in that uppity voice of hers, and Rick pinched the bridge of his nose.

"And I'm the long lost prodigal father. Look, we're all very important to your mother, so what I'm saying is this; if you want to keep all your limbs, therefore making your mother happy, maybe you two should get out before I tear them off and slap you with your own severed arms." Giving them both a pointed look, he swivelled around in his chair, turning his back to them. Summer just rolled her eyes, but Morty walked up behind Rick, peeking over his shoulder.

"What are you working on, Rick?" He watched as Rick tightened a few bolts and what appeared to be a pretty nondescript box.

"Like you would even understand." Setting the wrench down, Rick clicked the small box into what appeared to be the frame of a large motherboard, and reached for his soldering gun. Behind him, Morty's face fell a bit.

"Grandpa Rick, why are you such an asshole all the time," Summer asked, setting her hand on Morty's shoulder.

"Oh, I don't know Summer, maybe it's because I'm a motherfucking genius constantly surrounded by the one thing worse than a bunch of idiots; a bunch of mediocre slobs." Stabbing the end of the soldering gun accusingly at Summer, before reaching for his mask. "You- ...you all tell yourselves you're better than the idiots, and maybe you are, but the way you laze around in your own slovenly mediocrity is-" interrupting himself with a burp, "frankly, stifling."

"Yeah? You can't stand being around other Ricks either!" Summer pointed out. "You hate the Citadel of Ricks, you said a real Rick would never submit to being around other Ricks!"

"Yeah, and it's true. What, you think you're the only one who thinks I'm an asshole? I KNOW I'm an asshole. I'd kill myself before spending even one more hour on the Citadel surrounded by those Rick-bastards."

"So, what? You can't be around us because we're so mediocre, and you can't be around other geniuses because they're all insufferable?" Rick was getting pretty tired of arguing with Summer. Leaning back in his chair, he rubbed his eyes.

"I didn't say other geniuses, Summer, I said other Ricks. Jesus, what are you, deaf?"

"Is there a difference? I thought Ricks were the only geniuses in the multiverse?" This time, it was Morty who piped up. Rick just stared at him for a long time, and uncomfortably long time.

"...You got me, Morty. You got Grandpa. Will you leave me alone now that you've verbally bested me?" His tone was flat as he said this, and his two grandkids shared a brief look, before turning to go.

"Rick couldn't handle a non-Rick genius," Morty mumbled as he and Summer returned to the house.

"He'd probably end up killing it." Rick watched them go silently, just staring after them, and then slowly turned back to his work.

~oo~

"Heyyyyy Morty!" In his usual fashion, Rick burst into Morty's room, wholey unannounced, much to his grandson's annoyance. Didn't matter how often Morty told these people not to burst in on him without knocking; his family just seemed to be dense as hell, even the so called genius.

"What Rick?" he sighed, closing his laptop and glancing out the window.

"Still mad at me about calling you a mediocre slob earlier, huh?" Rick grinned, fishing around in his coat pocket. Morty didn't answer that, but it was pretty clear. "Aww, come on Morty. Morty, m-my old, my old pal, old pal-o-mine!" Sitting on the bed next to him, Rick pulled his grandson into a forced side hug, finally fishing out two pieces of paper from his lap coat, shoving them into Morty's hands. "Is it really nothing two tickets to the breakout summer hit, Ball Fondlers; Gratuitous Death-War, can't fix?

"Whoa, what?" Morty perked up at that, his face lighting up. "There's another movie!?"

"Oh, yeah Morty, it's the epic cross-over, 'every character you love dies' event of the year! But don't worry, Morty, there's rumors the ones you love aren't dead forever!"

"Man, I dunno Rick…..you really hurt Summer's feelings you know, and mine. If every time you're a grumpy dick to us you try and win us back over with fancy gifts and trinkets, how is that relationship any different than an abusive one?" Rick gave him a blank look at that, before unscrewing his flask and taking a drink.

"I hear there's a topless scene with that one big-titty character you like so much."

"I'll get my coat." Jumping out of bed and grabbing his shoes, the two of them made their way down to the garage. "What about Summer?"

"Yeah, let me tell you, Morty. Offering that big titty topless scene as an incentive to your sister….did not go over well."

"Yeah but, you hurt Summer too, Rick." Rick just shrugged.

"When is your sister NOT mad about something?"

"Rick…" Morty wanted to go on, but he sensed that Rick's generosity was fleeting, and if he pushed the matter, he wasn't going to get to see that sweet ass Ball Fondler's movie. So for the sake of sick action scenes, a tasteful amount of sprayed guts, and hopefully a nipple or two, he shut his trap. Sitting in silence the entire car ride, he handed the pair of tickets over to the usher at the theater, who just so happened to be a disconcertingly large spider in a vest, and followed his Grandpa into the darkened theater.

~oo~

"Beth? Could you…?" Beth rolled her eyes as Jerry called for her down the hall. Sticking her head through the doorway, she saw her husband standing at the top of the staircase, stuck in his shirt and desperately trying to get free.

"Jerry how did you-!" She was about to chastise him, when he suddenly tripped, and tumbled headfirst down the stairs. "Oh my god, Jerry!" Her husband crumpled into a pile at the bottom of the stairs, simpering like a wounded puppy, as Beth yanked his shirt down from around his head, checking him over for anything broken. "Jesus christ, Jerry, what the hell happened?"

"I got stuck in my shirt," he said, somewhat bashfully, and even though she was worried he'd hit his head, Beth couldn't suppress an eyeroll.

"Oh Jerry…." Both husband and wife turned then as the doorbell rang, and where Beth had been supporting Jerry's head, she dropped him, causing the back of his head to conk against the ground.

"Doorbell!" Summer called from the other room, though it was obvious she wasn't getting up to answer it.

"Yes, Summer, thank you," Beth said, standing up. "That was so helpful!"

"Sarcasm like that is why your marriage is hanging on by a thread!" she called back, to which her mother scoffed.

"What would she know about marriages hanging on by threads," she mumbled to herself, walking over to the door. Opening it up about halfway, she looked out into the crisp evening air, to see a woman standing on their doorstep. "Yes? Can I help you?"

"Sorry to bother you," the young woman said, quickly tucking something that Beth didn't quite see into her coat pocket. "Does Rick Sanchez live here? I mean….I know he lives here, but is he here? Like right now?" The woman on the other side of the door shuffled her feet slightly in her oversized coat. Beth could tell it was pretty tent-y on her, as it sloped awkwardly off her shoulders, which weren't nearly broad enough to keep the coat sitting on them perfectly. It looked like a men's coat.

"Uh….no," Beth replied, a little put off by that statement, closing the door juuust a bit more. "He went to a movie with my son. Why?"

"You're Beth, aren't you?" That took Beth right off guard, and the hair on the back of her neck stood up. The woman pulled the coat a little closer as a slight breeze ruffled her hair, long brunette strands she had stuffed up into a messy bun on top of her head.

"No. Who wants to know?"

"I know you are, I was just giving you the chance to- ….ah, sorry. I'm doing it again." The girl shook her head, closing her dark grey eyes, and stooping her shoulders slightly. "Look, I knew your father a while back, and I'd really like to say hi while I'm in town. Do you know when he's coming back?"

"'Knew him a while back?'" There was a part of Beth, a large part, that thought this was sketchy beyond belief but….there was always that part of her that was so desperately craving even a glimpse of her father, especially during the time he had…..the time he wasn't around.

"Beth, who is it?" Jerry asked, rubbing the back of his head as he came to stand beside his wife.

"It's….an old friend of my father's," she said finally, opening the door all the way. "Come in, it's getting dark. They'll probably be back within the hour."

"Great," the young woman said, visibly relieved as she stepped across the threshold. She looked around as Beth closed the door behind her, adjusting her glasses. The damn things were ancient, and didn't really fit her face well (since they weren't actually made for her face) and kept sliding down her nose. "Nice place."

"And you are?" Jerry asked, raising an eyebrow at the girl and his wife's peculiar behavior. Beth seemed all too pleased to lead this stranger into the living room and shoo Summer's feet off the sofa so she had a place to sit.

"Rachel S- ...ssss….." Looking around, her dark eyes fixed on a silver plated spoon sitting in an empty bowl on the coffee table. "...Silverspoon. Rachel Silverspoon."

"Silverspoon?" Jerry squinted at this girl for a long moment. "That sounds…. Like a name that comes from money!" His face brightened up at that, and Rachel's shoulders relaxed; it seemed that Beth, despite being the daughter of a genius, had married a buffoon.

"Or like a fake name," Summer said flatly without looking up from her phone. Rachel gave her a wary glance but it didn't seem like the teenager was that intent on proving that point, and Rachel wondered if she was just trying to be contrary to her father.

"Summer, hush. Can I get you anything, Rachel? We have juice, wine….more wine…"

"No, no, I, uh...I don't drink." she said quickly, declining before she gave herself the chance to give in. "I'm fine, but thank you."

"So how do you know my father?" Beth sat across from her in the armchair, clearly interested in this newcomer. "I'm sorry to admit but I don't think he's ever mentioned you, not by name anyway."

"And we would remember a wealthy name like Rachel Silverspoon!" Jerry put in.

"Oh...I expected as much," Rachel said, something close to disappointment crossing her face for the briefest of moments. "He sort of popped into and out of my life pretty quick when I was younger. I guess I didn't really know him THAT well, but….he has a way of making a big impression with even the smallest actions I guess."

"I know how that feels." Beth gave her a reassuring smile, but it faltered quickly. "Wait, how long ago did you know my father? You don't look a day over thirty."

"...I'm 26 but okay. And I was barely a teenager when I met him, just a couple days after my 12th birthday."

"Okayyy, how did a 12 year old meet and befriend an old man?" Jerry was sitting next to Rachel, a bowl of M&Ms on his lap; he was trying to throw one into his mouth but kept missing. "I MEAN I know Rick is weird but-"

"He was just sort of….around." Rachel moved her hands in a vague gesture. "I spent a lot of time alone as a kid, so there really was no adults around to say 'hey, don't hang out with that angry old man who drinks and rips holes in the fabric of the universe!' haha…"

"Wouldn't have mattered, Mom and Dad are always around here and they still don't tell me and Morty that." Summer still had her nose pressed against her phone but was obviously listening to the conversation.

"Summer!" Beth waved her comments off. "So what brings you to town Rachel?"

"Just some….business." Rachel's hands were buried in her pockets, and at that she subtly patted the cold metal barrel concealed there. She glanced at the clock inconspicuously...she just couldn't wait for Rick to get home.

~oo~

"I can't believe you started crying!"

"Shut up, Morty!" Rick yanked the door to the car open, a few empty bottles clamoring out onto the pavement at his feet. Morty followed suit on the passenger's side, clicking himself into his seatbelt. His grandfather sat in the driver's seat,fishing around in the backseat briefly, coming up with a half empty bottle and taking a long drink, before throwing it out the window. "So- ...so sue me if I think it's a cheap bit that they play off your fragile emotions by killing off THE ONLY REDEEMABLE CHARACTERS!"

"They sure played off your fragile emotions, huh Rick?" Morty laughed as Rick shifted the car into gear and took off. "You know, I wasn't even mad there was no nip slips! That ending was so devastating, I didn't even remember there was no boobs!" Rick just grunted at that, still sour over the ending. Morty smiled as he leaned against the window, watching them ascend out of the atmosphere. Most of their ride home was pretty uneventful, aside from Rick swerving pretty suddenly to try and hit a space possum. It wasn't until they were nearly home that Morty cleared his throat. "Uh, so….th-thanks for taking me to the movies Rick but….you know you still have to apologize to my sister, right?"

"Oh jeez, Morty, am I gonna get crucified for the rest of my life for-"

"You know Rick, you- ….you, you don't know how to say sorry to people you hurt so you're trying to make up for it to people who you never hurt in the first place. But you know I'm not the one you have to say sorry to!" Rick just slowly turned to look at Morty, one eye twitching slightly. What in the fuck was he talking about?

"What did you say?" He asked it not threateningly like he usually did; he was honestly surprised to hear those words come out of Morty's dumb, dumb face.

"You know I can handle you being an asshole, Rick! But Summer cares way more about what you think than I ever do!" Morty scowled; he and his sister didn't get along all the time, but she was still his sister. And he could tell when her feelings were hurt.

"...Fine! Fine, I'll apologize to your dumb sister! Geez, Morty, is that what you wanted to hear?"

"And no….no trinkets! You can't hide behind stuff instead of apologizing!"

"Jesus christ, what is this, shit on Grandpa day?" Landing the car in the driveway, Rick stepped out, shaking his head. Morty was rather satisfied with that, and followed him up the walkway to the front door. Rick tossed the keys into the key bowl by the front door and burped as he shrugged off his coat, walking into the living room. "Beth, sweetie! We're home.!"

"Hey, Dad!" Beth was sitting on the armchair, and excitedly turned to smile at him as he entered. Jerry was sitting on the ottoman and Summer was sitting indian style on the edge of the couch, but there was another person sitting in between them all. Someone Rick didn't immediately recognize from the back. Even when she turned to glance at him over the back of the couch, he didn't recognize those dark grey eyes that peered so inquisitively at him. "We have company! She's an old friend she says, and she-"

"Damn, you aged like shit."

The family froze at that. But Rick wasn't paying attention to the rest of the family. He was only looking at this newcomer. There was something in her voice, some snarky note in her voice that reminded him of Summer. Of Beth. She REALLY reminded him of his daughter, especially with that look on her face as she stood and faced him. And it was then that Rick could finally place where he knew this woman from.

"And I thought you were dead."

All hell broke loose after those words. Summer was the quickest; despite being on her phone half the night she was really the only one who found this woman suspicious, and as Rachel pulled the homemade-looking gun from her oversized coat pocket, Summer jumped up, grabbing onto her arm and knocking her aim off. The gun quickly fired off two bursts that singed their way through the ceiling and eventually the roof, and a few seconds later a couple of louder explosions could be heard going off several miles up above their house. Jerry screamed, Morty and Beth were shouting, but after the initial firing of the gun, the only two still figures in the room were Rick, and Rachel.

"What the hell!" Beth screeched, "Dad, are you okay?"

"I knew we couldn't trust the wealthy!" Jerry stabbed a finger accusingly at Rachel from behind the armchair.

"I'm fine, sweetie," Rick said, rubbing his face. "...Rachel, why are you here?"

"I mean, I thought it was obvious?" Yanking her arm away from Summer, recocking the gun, the gentle whir and green glow indicating that it was charging back up.

"You've tried to kill me how many times now?"

"Just about as many as you've tried to kill me." Neither was flinching under the other's gaze.

"And how many times has that worked for you?"

"187. But it's never been 'you'. Just different Ricks. Some that knew their own Rachels. Some that didn't."

"Pretty lucky the Council of Ricks is long gone," Rick said, cracking a small smile. "They never did like dead Ricks."

"Okay, Grandpa, what's going on!?" Summer asked, her gaze swinging wildly between the two. One second, this stranger with an obviously fake name was trying to kill Rick, and the next they were….bantering?

"It's okay, Summer. I know this asshole." Walking into the kitchen, Rick fetched a couple of beers, and returning to the living room, he tossed one at the newcomer, who caught it without hesitation.

"I don't drink anymore, Rick," Rachel said, looking at the beer in her hand and setting it down on the coffee table.

"Really? Damn, no wonder you turned to murder."

"Okay, Rick!" Morty interjected here, clearly confused. "What the hell is going on here? You know her!?" Rick took a long drink, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve, but before he could answer, Rachel pulled something else out of her pocket, and tossed it at Rick. It landed on the coffee table and slid towards him.

"Your portal gun?" Beth asked, incredulous that her father would let that thing out of his sight. Even Rick seemed slightly surprised by that.

"...So that's how you found me."

"Maybe don't leave your shit around where your protege can tinker with it." Rachel sat down then, setting the first gun on the table with a sigh. Jerry, up until this point, had been silent, but squinted at Rachel then.

"...You're not really rich, are you?"

"No," Rick answered for her, as she glared.

"Then who are you?" Jerry was clearly the most confused of the bunch, though no one could quite figure out what was going on. Rick sighed heavily.

"I raised her," he supplied, taking another drink.

~After Credits Scene~

Rick sat with his feet propped up on the seat in front of him, despite the peeved look on the man who sat in the seat below him his feet were on.

"Sir?" he asked, turning around briefly as the before-movie ads were playing.

"Shhhh!" Rick shushed, shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

"Sir, can you get your feet off my seat?"

"Eat shit." Rick replied, and Morty elbowed him in the ribs. "Ow, jeez!"

"Rick! Get your feet down!"

"Oh, why? Why is his sense of comfort more important than mine? I'm-I'm an ooold man, Morty! Maybe my back is bad and I NEED to have my feet up!"

"Your back is fine, Rick, and you know it! You're being a dick again!"

"Oh, here we go again-"

"Sir! Get your feet down or I'm telling the usher!" The man was turned fully to stare at Rick in the darkness, to which he just laughed.

"Oooooh, the usher! O-ooohhh, I'm so scared!" He laughed that barking, cynical laugh of his in the man's face, but just then, a few pairs of giant-spider feet dangled over Ricks head, poking at his face with their spider-hairs. "Hey, oh, what the fuck!"

"Ha ha, Rick, serves you right!" Morty chortled, relaxing back in his seat then, and even the man who'd been yelling at Rick seemed to settle down at this kind of irony, turning back to the movie.

"Hey, hey, get your gross hairy legs off my seat!" Rick whisper-yelled, trying to shove the spider legs away, but the spider in question just shrieked terrifyingly out of it's fanged jaws, causing whatever complaints Rick still had to die in his throat. Huffing and turning back to the screen, he dropped back into his seat with his arms crossed, grumbling as he tried to deal with the spider legs in his face.