Hutch can be a bit of an egghead sometimes. The complete opposite of me. He thinks and I act. Don’t get me wrong, though. It’s one of the things I love about him. Besides, it all seems to come together in the end. But sometimes he needs to be reminded to put his brain on hold and just go with his gut. Like the time we were locked in the air-tight storage room. I looked at him and he looked at me with that expression that says, “What the hell do we do now, Ollie?”
Well, I start pacin’ and he pulls out his notepad and pencil and starts writin’ down a bunch of figures, trying to figure out how much time we had before our air ran out. He even sits down on the floor like his head and his legs can’t work at the same time. All that figurin’ wasn’t doing us any favors. I figured it was up to me to get us out. So I loaded up a cart with some barrels, moved Hutch’s legs aside, and took a running start. Wouldn’t you know I blasted that damn cart right through the locked door?