“Easy, son. That’s the trick shoulder.”

“Sorry, Mr. Weir.”

“Don’t worry about it. It might actually be the other shoulder.”

“Okay.”

“Now, I know I’ve asked you this already, but–”

“I’m not Bill Walton.”

“–are you Bill…ah. I thought maybe Marvel got ahold of you and sprayed some of that de-aging gunk on your face.”

“They do that with computers, I think.”

“Welcome to the 90’s, right?”

“Sir?”

“This was fun. Now, uh, can you point me towards the trainer’s room?”