"Grab me coffee?" He's pretty sure that's where Ohio's headed- up till the oddness of him being, well, here and alive and not five kinds of dead clicks and he sort of expected this. The exact numbers aren't really important but there was about a ten percent chance of him getting shot before Ohio said anything at all so.

Things are going well!

Ish.

Sorta.

Story of his goddamn life. York slowly sets the puzzle down and lifts a hand to wave. "Uh. It's me? York? Who else could code a blindspot into your overnetworked, overly semantic AI and talk your guard dogs down enough to let me carry you back to your ship?"

Technical skill is one thing. Pair it up with people skills (though really fucking rusty) and you get, well. York.