CL

Two years, six months, and six days after Henry's disappearance

Hopper pulls the cigarette from his mouth and exhales the smoke slowly. For comfort, he leans his back against the façade of the police station. "Any questions?" he grunts after the prolonged silence of the girl by his side.

"Uhm, nope, I think I got the gist of it," Robin Buckley replies in a whisper, her gaze fixed on her restless feet, which keep rocking from heel to toe, repeatedly. "So, you going after him tonight.

"No, this afternoon," Hopper corrects, clearly irritated by her lack of attention. "Before nightfall."

Robin stays silent a moment longer before suddenly lifting her head, searching for his gaze. Hopper meets her eyes, wary.

"I just want to say two things."

"Go ahead," he says as he brings the cigarette back to his lips.

"First, I really appreciate you telling me," Robin begins in a somewhat monotonous voice, as if she had written this speech in her head just moments ago. "Anyone else would've kept me in the dark."

"Hm." That's all the response she gets, because, truthfully, this had been a last-minute decision—something in his conscience wouldn't let him ignore the young woman beside him. Maybe because he knows what it means to desperately search for answers.

"And the second thing is… I can help."

Hopper had figured something like this was coming. And while he doesn't like the idea of including Jonathan and Nancy Wheeler in the operation at all, he has allowed it after confirming that both know the basics of handling firearms (though how Nancy managed to surpass her boyfriend in this area—especially considering he was the one who taught her—remains an unfathomable mystery).

This, however, is not the case with Robin Buckley.

He's just about to point it out when the young woman raises her palm in a silencing gesture and adds: "Do you remember the… science lab incident at school?"

Right. An explosion had rendered the lab unusable after a student—or so it was speculated—snuck in after hours to experiment with chemicals beyond their control. While the 'prank' hadn't injured anyone, they never found the culprit, and some even feared it had been a real threat.

Either way, the school lab remained closed for a solid two months until it was restored.

And now this girl is implying…

"You're saying that was you?" Hopper asks, deeply intrigued by her response.

If she feels discomfort in confessing her crime, she doesn't show it. "Yeah, that was me," she admits with a smile.

No discomfort at all: she spins on her heels, takes a couple of steps, and stops right in front of him, hands clasped behind her back.

Hopper isn't intimidated. He grips his cigarette in his hand and grumbles: "Of course I do; who in my line of work wouldn't?"

"Great," she replies, still smiling. "How about a homemade napalm grenade?"

The cigarette falls from Hopper's hand.