[Normally, he'd slip in some offhand complaint as he tended to do, but for some reason he wants to put a little more effort this morning.]
Like a rock, actually. [He goes to sit down at his usual chair, but his eyes were following Connor as he moved around the room.] Got a little colder when Sumo left to go sleep with you for the rest of the night, but can't blame him, really.
[As if on cue or perhaps hearing his name, the dog arrived, gently placing his head over Hank's knees, as he gave the animal a pat and kept quiet about the amount of drool that was already building up in his maw.]
[Even after all this time he still has to catch himself from "correcting" Hank about the issue of his sleeping—he does sleep now, as strange as it is. Old habits die hard, especially when they're programmed into you...]
I did. Sumo didn't quite agree with my timing, though.
[He says it fondly, watching the Saint Bernard step into the room as he makes his way to the kitchen to make breakfast.]
[And to Hank's non-credit, he keeps forgetting that this would BE a detail Connor would be telling him about and just defaults to it. He just gets lucky that in this world it has become the truth by default.]
Well, he's a dog. Not like he knows anything about personal space.
[He sits a little more upright as if adjusting a little bit. Maybe himself more presentable for some reason? Fuck if he knows why. Maybe just to get rid of that slump so he doesn't become a hunchback when he's 60.]
Kinda wish I could wake up with perfect hair like you do. Would make my life a lot more goddamn easier.
[As far as struggles go, though, it's not a bad one to have.
Connor's eyebrows lift briefly at the compliment, but his expression turns to a slight smile as he tries to help Hank see it a little differently.]
You get to decide how long you want your hair to be, though. And you can change how you style it whenever you like.
[It does occur to him that Hank's compliments are fairly rare, but they're not so uncommon these days as to make him question anything. Connor guesses he must just be in a good mood this morning.]
[To his credit, Hank has gotten pretty well at being up on time. After all, he used to be pretty good at getting up when he had a reason to do it. Or maybe he has a reason to do it now?]
Heh. I could do with a haircut. [Briefly he runs both hands around the hair.] Could probably put it in a ponytail at this point. [He then brings both down to shrug.] 'Sides, why would you want to change your hair? It's great just the way it is...even that weird curly thing you've got going on.
[Wait...what the fuck is he even saying? Why did he say that? It was like his goddamn mind was rebelling, adding strings of words to their usual morning talk. He frowns, and tries to cover this up by coughing. Even he knows it sounds forced.]
Shit, did I catch a cold?
[This was a terrible attempt to change the subject, or maybe at least find an excuse to stand up and grab a glass of water.]
[In reality, Hank has decided he is in the weirdest fucking mood since he's been here, which is saying a lot. Maybe it's the fact he consumed some sugar before breakfast and his body is in this weird-ass state where it's trying to process the overdose of glucose and that's completely and totally why he feels out of breath...
...
...that's the story he's sticking to.]
Hey, I'm just saying it like it is. [It comes in pretty fast. He's pretty sure his internal swearing counter is going off the charts even for him as he briefly wonders if Connor thought his excuse was acceptable.]
I can get my own glass of water...[His hand grips on the chair.]...but if you'd rather do it yourself.
[He sits back down, feeling a surge of dizziness take him again, and briefly runs a hand on his forehead to see if he has a fever.]
[Connor's voice is just this side of beseeching when he sees Hank seem uncertain on his feet—and he's already in the kitchen anyway, a hand on the cupboard to retrieve a glass.]
Let me.
[Water acquired, the android steps over to the side of Hank's chair, handing him the drink and starting to run a completely non-privacy-invading scan, a slight furrow between his eyebrows.]
[Apart from his rise in heartbeat and breathing, he is....super completely not-fine. ]
Now that you're here, yeah.
[What the fuck, he breathes even as he says that, before grabbing the glass of water, excusing himself while he drank it like his life depended on it.]
Connor tries very hard not to think terribly hard on whatever that might mean, rubbing his hands together as his processors furiously try to churn out something appropriate to say. Just ignore the flickering LED and blue particles that blink uncertainly around him.
He can't just stand there awkwardly saying nothing forever, though.]
I can't detect anything particularly out of the ordinary in your vitals...
[That doesn't mean he's magically acquired modules for tracking bacteria and viruses, but it does point towards something more psychological in nature? Maybe?]
[By the time Hank is done with the glass of water, he wonders if he should just go to the shower and skip breakfast or lock himself in his room and tell Connor to call for a day off. He tries feebly to talk but at this point it seems to be a loosing battle.]
I uh...fuck...I dunno why the fuck I'm saying all of this shit--[Oh thank Christ his mouth stopped moving after that.]--not that it's unwarranted and--[have you ever seen Hank Anderson smack a hand into his own face? Because that's what just happened.] Jesus Christ!
[What the hell happened to his brain to mouth filter? The heat around them increases in reaction to Hank's own confusion]
Okay um...I'm going back to my room for a bit before I punch my own jaw off. You stay here looking good as you usually do!
[Connor's mind starts to head the same way when Hank declares his apparent desire to shut himself up, and he debates asking if Hank plans to take the day off. He doesn't know if he wants to jump right to suggesting that, though, so he just sort of awkwardly agrees, deciding he needs more information before determining the... best? approach?]
I'll... be here?
[It takes a second before his CPU catches back up to him a little.]
Is there anything I can do to help? [He doesn't know what that would be, given he doesn't know what the problem is, but he can at least offer.]
[He almost makes a run for it, screaming the entire way.]
Great. Wonderful. Nice to know you're around.
[God fucking dammit.]
Yeah, get me a new pair of socks so I can stuff them in my mouth before I say anything worse than what I just said. Sorry Connor...I uh...dunno what's the fuck's wrong with me. I ain't really that hungry anymore...well I'd still eat whatever you make anyway, but--
[Yeap that sounds the perfect time to shut himself from the world even more. SLAM! The door nearly falls off the hinges from Hank's panicked movements, making poor Sumo yelp up in fright from the noise.]
[It's somehow becoming difficult to determine whether Hank is being sarcastic or genuine and Connor isn't fond of it.
He watches a little helplessly as Hank stomps back into his bedroom, and blinks in the approximation of a flinch when the door hits its frame. He glances over to Sumo to make sure the dog does need any help calming down before taking a moment to compose an appropriate response.]
You haven't said anything bad, though?
[It was meant to come out as a statement. His bafflement at Hank's behavior made it into an unintentional question.]
[To be fair Hank is half wondering if he's being sarcastic and genuine and that's what he fears the most about the entire thing. Just like the thin ice tendrils sneaking out of his room for each step he takes before the door closes.]
I haven't?
[It's an question more to himself than to Connor.]
Shit...there's gotta be an explanation.
[He looks over to his bedside, the box of chocolate starring back at him and then...it all clicks. Or at least, he thinks it clicks. When the door opens again, Hank briefly peeks back at Connor, holding it like he would something hazardus.]
Hey handsome! ...Jesus. Connor! Did you buy these?
[Soon Connor will probably register the compliment(?) and be appropriately flustered, but he's still too confused with whatever is causing this for his processors to work through to that just yet.
Although his answer comes almost immediately after the question, he also takes the opportunity to scan the package.]
No, I didn't.
[A strange box of chocolates that Hank thought he'd bought... meaning they must have shown up within the apartment somehow. It's not an impossibility...]
Shit. I thought you'd gotten them for me. [He says something more, but manages to muffle it with a hand. Well it would have worked if Connor was a human anyway. Instead he'd hear 'because you're thoughtful'.]
Found 'em on my desk. [The movement from the door's frame is almost hilarious, what with just showing Hank's arms moving up and down to showcasing his clear frustration. The urge to throw the box into the wall is strong.] Coffee flavored too....fuck! I'll have to throw 'em out somewhere away from Sumo. [Thankfully whatever is ailing him is at least not strong enough for him to also attempt to flirt with his own dog.]
[Connor shows no hesitation in reaching for the box, although he does wait with his hand held out rather than snatching it up immediately.]
I can dispose of them.
[Away from Sumo. Or. Anybody.]
For future reference, I won't be leaving any gifts in your room. I've had a few strange items appear in my own, and I'd rather there not be any confusion.
[Like this, specifically. His curiosity is rising, however...]
I assume you think these are affecting you somehow?
[He holds the box over the android's hands precariously like a game prompt where the person just doesn't press the buttons as if he was about to give Connor a radioactive bomb. It's probably for the best that he hadn't taken it from Hank, otherwise he might have reacted differently.]
Yeah...wouldn't want you to eat one of these and end up like me.
[He's trying to lighten up the tension he's feeling, although this proves to be a fatal mistake.]
Too bad really, I would love to get a gift from you appearing in my room. Or just you appearing and--
[SLAM! There went Hank, there went the chocolates, disappearing back into his room as he screamed from the other side.]
FUCK THIS BULLSHIT, FUCK THIS FUCKING WORLD--
[Or perhaps not, as he reopens the door, but before Connor can even say anything, Hank flings the chocolates in his hands before violently closing the door again to continue.]
--OF COURSE I FUCKING THINK THESE ARE FUCKING AFFECTING ME! WHY THE FUCK WOULD I EVEN SAY THIS FUCKING SHIT? I SOUND LIKE A TEENAGER'S FIRST FUCKING BAR RUN!
[After a few moments of waiting for Hank to properly give him the box, he starts to actually move his own hand, eyebrows raising faintly as he listens to the... err, compliment?
And then the man and chocolates are gone, behind the door.]
...
[The lieutenant is definitely agitated, but yelling doesn't appear as if it's going to solve the problem. ... Connor still can't entirely define the problem himself, but apparently Hank is saying things he doesn't mean to say. He frowns to himself, trying to come to a conclusion.
He at least manages to catch the chocolates as they're tossed at him.]
I'll... just get rid of these.
[They can talk about it later, maybe. If Hank doesn't want to forget that this morning ever happened, which seems more likely.]
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Like a rock, actually. [He goes to sit down at his usual chair, but his eyes were following Connor as he moved around the room.] Got a little colder when Sumo left to go sleep with you for the rest of the night, but can't blame him, really.
[As if on cue or perhaps hearing his name, the dog arrived, gently placing his head over Hank's knees, as he gave the animal a pat and kept quiet about the amount of drool that was already building up in his maw.]
What about you?
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I did. Sumo didn't quite agree with my timing, though.
[He says it fondly, watching the Saint Bernard step into the room as he makes his way to the kitchen to make breakfast.]
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Well, he's a dog. Not like he knows anything about personal space.
[He sits a little more upright as if adjusting a little bit. Maybe himself more presentable for some reason? Fuck if he knows why. Maybe just to get rid of that slump so he doesn't become a hunchback when he's 60.]
Kinda wish I could wake up with perfect hair like you do. Would make my life a lot more goddamn easier.
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[As far as struggles go, though, it's not a bad one to have.
Connor's eyebrows lift briefly at the compliment, but his expression turns to a slight smile as he tries to help Hank see it a little differently.]
You get to decide how long you want your hair to be, though. And you can change how you style it whenever you like.
[It does occur to him that Hank's compliments are fairly rare, but they're not so uncommon these days as to make him question anything. Connor guesses he must just be in a good mood this morning.]
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[To his credit, Hank has gotten pretty well at being up on time. After all, he used to be pretty good at getting up when he had a reason to do it. Or maybe he has a reason to do it now?]
Heh. I could do with a haircut. [Briefly he runs both hands around the hair.] Could probably put it in a ponytail at this point. [He then brings both down to shrug.] 'Sides, why would you want to change your hair? It's great just the way it is...even that weird curly thing you've got going on.
[Wait...what the fuck is he even saying? Why did he say that? It was like his goddamn mind was rebelling, adding strings of words to their usual morning talk. He frowns, and tries to cover this up by coughing. Even he knows it sounds forced.]
Shit, did I catch a cold?
[This was a terrible attempt to change the subject, or maybe at least find an excuse to stand up and grab a glass of water.]
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I don't know—just for something new, maybe. ... Thank you, though.
[He turns back to his kitcheny tasks, shaking himself out of it as Hank tries to change the subject.]
I'll get you some water.
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...
...that's the story he's sticking to.]
Hey, I'm just saying it like it is. [It comes in pretty fast. He's pretty sure his internal swearing counter is going off the charts even for him as he briefly wonders if Connor thought his excuse was acceptable.]
I can get my own glass of water...[His hand grips on the chair.]...but if you'd rather do it yourself.
[He sits back down, feeling a surge of dizziness take him again, and briefly runs a hand on his forehead to see if he has a fever.]
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Let me.
[Water acquired, the android steps over to the side of Hank's chair, handing him the drink and starting to run a completely non-privacy-invading scan, a slight furrow between his eyebrows.]
Are you feeling alright?
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Now that you're here, yeah.
[What the fuck, he breathes even as he says that, before grabbing the glass of water, excusing himself while he drank it like his life depended on it.]
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Connor tries very hard not to think terribly hard on whatever that might mean, rubbing his hands together as his processors furiously try to churn out something appropriate to say. Just ignore the flickering LED and blue particles that blink uncertainly around him.
He can't just stand there awkwardly saying nothing forever, though.]
I can't detect anything particularly out of the ordinary in your vitals...
[That doesn't mean he's magically acquired modules for tracking bacteria and viruses, but it does point towards something more psychological in nature? Maybe?]
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I uh...fuck...I dunno why the fuck I'm saying all of this shit--[Oh thank Christ his mouth stopped moving after that.]--not that it's unwarranted and--[have you ever seen Hank Anderson smack a hand into his own face? Because that's what just happened.] Jesus Christ!
[What the hell happened to his brain to mouth filter? The heat around them increases in reaction to Hank's own confusion]
Okay um...I'm going back to my room for a bit before I punch my own jaw off. You stay here looking good as you usually do!
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I'll... be here?
[It takes a second before his CPU catches back up to him a little.]
Is there anything I can do to help? [He doesn't know what that would be, given he doesn't know what the problem is, but he can at least offer.]
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Great. Wonderful. Nice to know you're around.
[God fucking dammit.]
Yeah, get me a new pair of socks so I can stuff them in my mouth before I say anything worse than what I just said. Sorry Connor...I uh...dunno what's the fuck's wrong with me. I ain't really that hungry anymore...well I'd still eat whatever you make anyway, but--
[Yeap that sounds the perfect time to shut himself from the world even more. SLAM! The door nearly falls off the hinges from Hank's panicked movements, making poor Sumo yelp up in fright from the noise.]
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He watches a little helplessly as Hank stomps back into his bedroom, and blinks in the approximation of a flinch when the door hits its frame. He glances over to Sumo to make sure the dog does need any help calming down before taking a moment to compose an appropriate response.]
You haven't said anything bad, though?
[It was meant to come out as a statement. His bafflement at Hank's behavior made it into an unintentional question.]
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I haven't?
[It's an question more to himself than to Connor.]
Shit...there's gotta be an explanation.
[He looks over to his bedside, the box of chocolate starring back at him and then...it all clicks. Or at least, he thinks it clicks. When the door opens again, Hank briefly peeks back at Connor, holding it like he would something hazardus.]
Hey handsome! ...Jesus. Connor! Did you buy these?
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Although his answer comes almost immediately after the question, he also takes the opportunity to scan the package.]
No, I didn't.
[A strange box of chocolates that Hank thought he'd bought... meaning they must have shown up within the apartment somehow. It's not an impossibility...]
Where did you find them?
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Found 'em on my desk. [The movement from the door's frame is almost hilarious, what with just showing Hank's arms moving up and down to showcasing his clear frustration. The urge to throw the box into the wall is strong.] Coffee flavored too....fuck! I'll have to throw 'em out somewhere away from Sumo. [Thankfully whatever is ailing him is at least not strong enough for him to also attempt to flirt with his own dog.]
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I can dispose of them.
[Away from Sumo. Or. Anybody.]
For future reference, I won't be leaving any gifts in your room. I've had a few strange items appear in my own, and I'd rather there not be any confusion.
[Like this, specifically. His curiosity is rising, however...]
I assume you think these are affecting you somehow?
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like a game prompt where the person just doesn't press the buttonsas if he was about to give Connor a radioactive bomb. It's probably for the best that he hadn't taken it from Hank, otherwise he might have reacted differently.]Yeah...wouldn't want you to eat one of these and end up like me.
[He's trying to lighten up the tension he's feeling, although this proves to be a fatal mistake.]
Too bad really, I would love to get a gift from you appearing in my room. Or just you appearing and--
[SLAM! There went Hank, there went the chocolates, disappearing back into his room as he screamed from the other side.]
FUCK THIS BULLSHIT, FUCK THIS FUCKING WORLD--
[Or perhaps not, as he reopens the door, but before Connor can even say anything, Hank flings the chocolates in his hands before violently closing the door again to continue.]
--OF COURSE I FUCKING THINK THESE ARE FUCKING AFFECTING ME! WHY THE FUCK WOULD I EVEN SAY THIS FUCKING SHIT? I SOUND LIKE A TEENAGER'S FIRST FUCKING BAR RUN!
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And then the man and chocolates are gone, behind the door.]
...
[The lieutenant is definitely agitated, but yelling doesn't appear as if it's going to solve the problem. ... Connor still can't entirely define the problem himself, but apparently Hank is saying things he doesn't mean to say. He frowns to himself, trying to come to a conclusion.
He at least manages to catch the chocolates as they're tossed at him.]
I'll... just get rid of these.
[They can talk about it later, maybe. If Hank doesn't want to forget that this morning ever happened, which seems more likely.]
Let me know if you need anything.