Disclaimer: I don't own Scorpion
Walter looked at Paige as she set the scorpion pumpkin she'd talked him into helping her and Ralph carve outside the door. "Remind me again why we're doing this?" he asked, his hands in his pockets.
"Because it's Halloween. Why aren't you in your costume yet?" she asked, turning to look at him.
He motioned to the black eye patch he wore over his left eye. "We have been over this, every Halloween for the last three years. Besides, how is this a costume?" he asked, touching the tiny arm coming out of her bloody t-shirt that covered her growing belly.
"It's scary. The baby's clawing it's way out."
"Anybody who believes that's how babies are born needs to be institutionalized."
"They're a bunch of little kids, Walter."
He nodded once. "As I said. But I'm sure ours will be fine."
She rolled her eyes, shaking her head before she called Ralph. "Come on, buddy. Trick-or-treat is about to start."
"Why do you still force him to do this every year?" Walter whispered. "He'd be happier just sitting at home with us."
"And seeing the rest of the kids have fun without him?"
"The difference being he doesn't consider this fun. Pounding on people's doors and demanding they give you food, which you neither need nor earned, is not fun. It's panhandling."
"He liked it before you got into his head."
"Sweetheart, he never enjoyed it. He endured it because of you, much like I am."
"Ralph!" she yelled again, ignoring her husband.
Ralph finally walked out of his bedroom, wearing a Boba Fett costume. "Why did we ever let him watch Star Wars?" Walter mumbled, Paige swatted him in the stomach.
"Sweetie, are you going to be okay on your own?" Paige asked. Ralph lifted up his mask to nod silently at his mother. "Okay, you stay in this building, understand? When you get tired, come right home."
"I will," he promised.
"And don't go to any apartments we don't know," she told him as he left.
"Honey, honey," Walter said, putting his hands on Paige's arms as she started to follow him. "Remember, we agreed, he's old enough to trick-or-treat by himself as long as you force him to participate in this?"
"Well, next year, all four of us can go as a family," she said with smile, putting a hand on her stomach.
"But then who will hand out the candy to the gluttonous children?"
"Toby, Slyvester, Cabe," she suggested. "Anybody who doesn't make a three year old dressed like Spiderman cry."
"All I did was point out that if you ever were unlucky enough to be bitten by a radioactive spider, it would likely kill you before you were able to enjoy whatever powers manifested from the bite. Which, in reality would be none… because you'd be dead."
Paige rolled her eyes as there was a knock on the door. "You don't talk to them. In fact, just go sit on the couch."
"But how will anybody enjoy my costume," he muttered as he wandered to the couch, taking the eye patch off as he sat down and turned on the television.