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Summary
"Fine, I'll run a test," Rick finally says, relenting to Morty's pleading. He pulls out a small scanner from one of the ship's compartments and waves it over Morty's body, analyzing the spores that have coated his skin and clothes.
“I feel weird,” Morty complains, squeezing his legs together and rocking back and forth in his seat.
The scanner beeps and whirs as it processes the data, and Rick squints at the readout, trying to make sense of the jumble of numbers and symbols. After a moment, he frowns and shoves the scanner back into its compartment.
"Well, it looks like the spores are some kind of aphrodisiac," Rick says, trying to keep his voice casual. "They're not going to kill you, but they might make you... uh... well, y-you’ll be fine.”