[Really, it's a testament to the fact he hasn't just walked off and ignored Connor.
The air around them grows even colder. Hank's shirt is still black, but now he's letting off steam behind him, the wisps of smoke almost as darkish as what he's wearing. He doesn't notice, too busy holding the glass with one had so hard he only stops fearing that he might break it in his hand, like he's delaying the talk.
When he glances back at the android, he just looks tired.]
I'm just overthinking things, Connor...[The alcohol had barely given him a buzz. He wasn't going to spill his guts outright, but what he wouldn't do to just get a full case of beer.] Just blame this place and what the fuck just happened with Simon.
[The android watches the emotional effects and Hank's expression with clear worry, although it gradually grows more tense as he hears Hank's decision to keep it to himself. He watches that smoke for a few moments, not sure what to do. Hank doesn't want his help, even if keeping it to himself clearly is only going to make things worse. Can he really force him to talk about things if he doesn't want to?
Connor lowers his eyes to the table, feeling like he's not going to get much out of Hank at this point and have it be productive. Not that he'd ever gotten much out of the man... nearly all of what he learned about Hank's problems were simply by observing him and researching the records he had access to. He doesn't have any records here, unfortunately. He just hopes observing him will be enough.]
[At first Hank tries to ignore him, but even he's not stupid enough to realize that something is happening and even as he frowns, he finally notices the blackness of his shirt. It changes colors back to grey as he lets out a defeated sigh.]
This fucking place.
[Anderson was always a man who kept most people at an arm's length, and despite Connor's efforts, it was still hard for him to break that habit. Back in Detroit, he knew a lot of people and was friends with just as many, but they never really knew that much of him, and he was content to keep it that way, least they all treat him like Jeffery.
He leaves the money on the table before quickly turning around when he gets up, attempting to clear his mind and avoid the android's piercing, worried gaze. It made him feel even more guilty.]
Look it's not your fault, alright? I'm just...wondering about what this all means. [Even with the shirt slowly returning to normal, the fog behind him hasn't let go, and as he walks it leaves a pathway behind him before dissipating. If he noticed, he's not speaking about it.] Let's go home.
[Connor's gaze goes back to Hank at his remarks, and he's not ashamed to keep his eyes on the man this time. He follows Hank's movement, getting up to follow him and nodding in response. Home does sound like the right option, right now.
But he isn't going to just leave it at that. As they continue on their way out of the restaurant, he tries to keep the lieutenant from sinking too deeply into his thoughts.]
It doesn't have to mean anything. It's just... another possibility we hadn't thought about yet.
[He puts a hand on Hank's shoulder through that fog, without hesitation this time. He's determined to be supportive, however difficult it may be.]
Whatever happens, we can deal with it as it comes.
[He's not looking back anymore, just focusing on the road ahead, going through the motions to get home and probably just lie on his bed for the next few hours, looking around to stop to get a bottle or two (or three). When Connor speaks again, it sounds more like a voice behind him, echoing in his head.]
...
[It wasn't just another possibility for Hank. He knows that Connor means well from his words of encouragement, but they aren't what he needs to hear. The ability of seeing his son alive dangling in front of him is already reopening wounds that had just begun to heal. The idea that this Connor, the very one that was worried a about him may just be coming from another universe entirely was also not lost on Hank. What if this Connor does something timeline? What if he ends up shooting Chloe? How will those choice affect what comes after that?
Fuck, no wonder he hated that type of science fiction. He's too busy to notice that the fog's almost natural smoke-like movements disappear under Connor's hand, as if it is fleeing his touch. He isn't expecting it, and it sends a jolt into his entire body.
And then his thoughts go silent. The fog dissipates instantaneously.
Maybe it's the words that Connor says next. We can deal with it as it comes. Perhaps that is what Hank needed to hear, a reminder that he's not alone, at least not now. It's been damn too many years that he's felt like he has. It reminds him of other things that have transpired in this world; the birthday they celebrated together, the sunrise they watched...truthfully, he's not sure why that helps so much, but he does look grateful when he finally turns to face Connor, even if it's brief.]
Yeah...guess we can.
[He wants to thank him, but just can't quite find the words. Hank Anderson is, after all, an old man and change does take time after so many years of darkness in his life.]
[At first, he's not sure that he's said the right thing. If anything, Hank seems as if he's almost ignoring him, which wouldn't bother Connor in any other situation, but in this one, he wants to make sure that at least something gets through.
But when the smog clears and Hank finally replies, it seems like maybe he did say something useful after all. Connor smiles a little, attempting to be reassuring, and his hand lingers on Hank's shoulder for a few more seconds before he finally returns it to his side. Sometimes even the android can recognize when silence is more valuable than conversation, so he leaves it at that. As long as Hank feels a little better, he doesn't need any thanks.]
[It's an ongoing healing process that may take years, or may never leave him at all, but at that moment, he really is grateful for Connor to be around.]
Well, let's not just fucking stand here. Sumo's gonna be complaining the minute we show up.
[This was his life now. He didn't mind it. The business with Simon could be looked into later.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
The air around them grows even colder. Hank's shirt is still black, but now he's letting off steam behind him, the wisps of smoke almost as darkish as what he's wearing. He doesn't notice, too busy holding the glass with one had so hard he only stops fearing that he might break it in his hand, like he's delaying the talk.
When he glances back at the android, he just looks tired.]
I'm just overthinking things, Connor...[The alcohol had barely given him a buzz. He wasn't going to spill his guts outright, but what he wouldn't do to just get a full case of beer.] Just blame this place and what the fuck just happened with Simon.
no subject
Connor lowers his eyes to the table, feeling like he's not going to get much out of Hank at this point and have it be productive. Not that he'd ever gotten much out of the man... nearly all of what he learned about Hank's problems were simply by observing him and researching the records he had access to. He doesn't have any records here, unfortunately. He just hopes observing him will be enough.]
no subject
This fucking place.
[Anderson was always a man who kept most people at an arm's length, and despite Connor's efforts, it was still hard for him to break that habit. Back in Detroit, he knew a lot of people and was friends with just as many, but they never really knew that much of him, and he was content to keep it that way, least they all treat him like Jeffery.
He leaves the money on the table before quickly turning around when he gets up, attempting to clear his mind and avoid the android's piercing, worried gaze. It made him feel even more guilty.]
Look it's not your fault, alright? I'm just...wondering about what this all means. [Even with the shirt slowly returning to normal, the fog behind him hasn't let go, and as he walks it leaves a pathway behind him before dissipating. If he noticed, he's not speaking about it.] Let's go home.
no subject
But he isn't going to just leave it at that. As they continue on their way out of the restaurant, he tries to keep the lieutenant from sinking too deeply into his thoughts.]
It doesn't have to mean anything. It's just... another possibility we hadn't thought about yet.
[He puts a hand on Hank's shoulder through that fog, without hesitation this time. He's determined to be supportive, however difficult it may be.]
Whatever happens, we can deal with it as it comes.
no subject
...
[It wasn't just another possibility for Hank. He knows that Connor means well from his words of encouragement, but they aren't what he needs to hear. The ability of seeing his son alive dangling in front of him is already reopening wounds that had just begun to heal. The idea that this Connor, the very one that was worried a about him may just be coming from another universe entirely was also not lost on Hank. What if this Connor does something timeline? What if he ends up shooting Chloe? How will those choice affect what comes after that?
Fuck, no wonder he hated that type of science fiction. He's too busy to notice that the fog's almost natural smoke-like movements disappear under Connor's hand, as if it is fleeing his touch. He isn't expecting it, and it sends a jolt into his entire body.
And then his thoughts go silent. The fog dissipates instantaneously.
Maybe it's the words that Connor says next. We can deal with it as it comes. Perhaps that is what Hank needed to hear, a reminder that he's not alone, at least not now. It's been damn too many years that he's felt like he has. It reminds him of other things that have transpired in this world; the birthday they celebrated together, the sunrise they watched...truthfully, he's not sure why that helps so much, but he does look grateful when he finally turns to face Connor, even if it's brief.]
Yeah...guess we can.
[He wants to thank him, but just can't quite find the words. Hank Anderson is, after all, an old man and change does take time after so many years of darkness in his life.]
no subject
But when the smog clears and Hank finally replies, it seems like maybe he did say something useful after all. Connor smiles a little, attempting to be reassuring, and his hand lingers on Hank's shoulder for a few more seconds before he finally returns it to his side. Sometimes even the android can recognize when silence is more valuable than conversation, so he leaves it at that. As long as Hank feels a little better, he doesn't need any thanks.]
no subject
Well, let's not just fucking stand here. Sumo's gonna be complaining the minute we show up.
[This was his life now. He didn't mind it. The business with Simon could be looked into later.]