sociallychallenged | (no subject)

Yeah, I do. Don't worry about that. [He loves the animals, to be honest. They're adorable and for the most part, well-behaved monsters. He's needed to have more things look at him like they need him. He's just not as invested in finding himself in a whole new universe. Connor's throwing himself into it fully, but he supposes that aspect of his personality wouldn't fade. Any more than Hank's reluctance to do things he doesn't want to do. Same as the case they were assigned to together. Hank trailing along on Connor's coattails.]

[This? Getting Connor drunk? He absolutely wants to do, though.]

Alright. Going out again.

[He gets up, abandoning petting Connor's head and patting the head of the Yamask as he goes by. He's going to go out and get some booze. Hopefully something that Connor can handle without spitting it out.]

Alright.

[He sits up, and waits for Hank to return. He’s a little nervous about the whole thing, mainly because he doesn’t want to end up like Hank that time he found him passed out, but he’s mostly curious. He doesn’t have to get too drunk, right?

When Hank comes back he’ll find Connor with a lap half full of spider and half full of Houndour, with one hand petting each.]

[When Hank returns, he has a carton of six bottled hard lemonades. Why? Because it looks like it's not going to take much to get Connor tipsy. And honestly, the last thing he wants is for Connor to end up his level of drunk. Add to that a sandwich in a paper bag, which he offers as the first safety buffer.]

Here. If you have something on your stomach first, you'll handle it a little better.

Actually, you look so worn out you could probably use something to eat anyway.

[He puts down the bottles on an end table for whenever Connor is ready, and sits in a chair across the room where he can read and write himself some notes.]

[He takes the sandwich with a smile.]

Thank you.

[It doesn’t take him long to finish it, and then he eyes the lemonade before taking one out of the pack. He opens it and takes a sip, seems to be okay with the taste, and takes another drink.]

How will I know when it’s working?

You'll know. It'll sneak up on you, but you'll know it when you get there.

[Hank puts his book down, gets his whiskey, opens it up finally with a pondering look.]

...Okay, people usually know. Some live in denial. I'll tell you.

[And he's just going to drink it straight out of the bottle, thanks.]

[Connor nods to himself and continues drinking. He actually gets through that first bottle pretty quickly, and opens his second as he looks through his Gear.]

Have you seen what a Pikachu looks like? I'd really like one.

[He gestures for Hank to come sit with him on the bed again so he can show him.]

[He's not even drunk yet and that sentence is hilarious.] Yeah, I know what they look like. [He comes over anyway, though.]

Well, I don't know what they'll look like up close and personal. I guess like a big chinchilla or something. I only know from um... artwork.

[And he resumes his former spot on the bed, ready to look at whatever Connor has to show him, and putting his arm around his shoulders.]

I saw someone's Pikachu and I really liked it, but I think I have to get one from an egg since we're not in Kanto right now.

[He shows Hank the picture of the Pikachu in the pokedex, which is probably the first real Pikachu Hank has ever seen.]

Or I could wait until we head towards Kanto, but... that's going to be a while.

Well... If you can get someone to loan a Pikachu, I could try to breed you one. Might be tough right off the bat, but if you really want it.

[If bae wants a Pikachu Hank will try to get bae a Pikachu. Just saying.]

[He's looking at an honest to god fucking thing that exists, though. What the fucking hell is his life, currently? He's not drunk enough for this.]

I'm not sure anyone would, but... thank you.

[He appreciates the sentiment, at least. He sits a little closer, flicking through the pokedex aimlessly now.]

We'll get a Porygon first, I think. I quite like it myself, so maybe we'll both work to get one each.

[He nudges Hank.]

We can see who gets one first.

You say that as if you won't get it first... [Hank laughs at Connor outright. He's the one that's actually really trying. He's the one that'll excel by sheer force of will alone. Hank just coasts, now.]

We'll both look for Porygon, though. You need it to suit your look, and I need it 'cause fuck me I'm gonna break everything I own.

[He takes another drink of the whiskey and just watches whatever Connor looks at.]

You could get it first. Less probable things have happened.

[He raises an eyebrow, taking another drink.]

My look? What exactly is my look?

Cyberlife's finest. That and twink. But we already covered that.

[He's at least got enough whiskey in him to edge warmly towards tipsy. Oh, drunkenness, how he's missed you.]

You know, you still never told me what you are.

[He realises as he finishes that second bottle that he feels a little different going in for that third one, but it's not enough to be concerned about, he thinks.]

Fuck. Alright, right. Give me a moment. So the opposite of a twink would probably be a butch. But as I am not a stout lesbian, I'm sure I'd pass if I shaved? But as I am not. Not a butch. [A conceding gesture.] Now, manwise, it would be leather-daddy which I am definitely not. Can't do the style. Or a bear. Which...

[He's thinking hard about it.]

God, it's happened.

He who does not die as a chad is doomed to one day become a bear.

[He thinks this is funny, though, as he is nearing optimal whiskey content.]

Leather-daddy...?

[Oh God, all these terms he's never heard of. That one sounds a little more disturbing than the others, though. Unfortunately for Hank, Connor doesn't quite get his little quip there. He does sip thoughtfully at his lemonade though.]

Well, I'm glad we cleared that up.

[It feels like a productive use of their time.]

Yeah, let's not even discuss that one yet. Probably. Depends on how drunk I get.

[They've learned a thing or two about themselves. That and now he's wondering what it will take to get Connor a Pikachu. It's his new goal.]

How drunk do you intend to get?

[He doesn't yet realise that it's not quite that simple. He isn't moving around right now so he hasn't noticed it, but he's quite tipsy.

His aimless scrolling has landed him on Pidove, and he nudges Hank again. Apparently he gets a bit more touchy than usual like this.]

You should get one of these.

[He's smirking as he says it.]

I don't know, Connor. Humans don't come with gauges. I wish we did 'cause I'd love to know the proper stopping point between tipsy and 'where did my feet fuckin' go?'. But I'm drunk enough to discuss leather daddies after looking at pictures of Pikachu, whatever level that is.

[He looks at the picture at Pidove.]

You are karma for every ill act I've ever committed, aren't you?

I'm not getting one of those.

[He knows, deep in his heart, he will get one of those and hate it.]

I'm not sure what level that is, either. I still feel fine, though.

[Again, he hasn't tried to move properly yet. But he actually does chuckle at Hank's statement, where usually he might have just smiled innocently at him.]

Maybe I am. But I think you will. I'm already considering catching fifty of them and letting them all loose on you at the same time.

[No, he's not that mean. But the idea is funny.]

Wave your hand in front of your face.

[That's the first test. See if your hand feels drunk.]

You know, the preferred prey of the bear is the twink. And if you fuckin' swarm me with birds I will eat you. [It's an unrealistic threat, but one from the heart.]

[He does, and it does feel strange. Not bad, just odd.]

Are you implying that you could take me on in a fight?

[He drains his bottle and points at Hank.]

You may be stronger than me now, but that doesn’t mean you can eat me.

[Hank cracks a big grin.]

You're human and you're drunk, Connor. I absolutely could take you.

Are you drunk enough to try and pick a fight with me? [If so, then this is the best. And he will squish Connor given the first opportunity. Though mostly now he wants to noisily gnaw on him.]

I’m not drunk. But I’m going to pick a fight with you, yes.

[He gets up onto his knees, at which point he realises that yes, he’s drunk. Nothing is spinning, but he feels strange when he moves. Strange and unsteady. ...Ah, well, he bets he can take Hank on anyway.]

Alright then.

[Hank gets one more swig of whiskey, moves the bottle to safety, and then just grabs Connor's shoulders, ready to wrestle him down to the bed. The worst thing is they still have witnesses to this spectacle, inhuman though they be. But it means there's a Growlithe that perks its ears at the exaggerated bear noise that Hank makes when he's moving in for the kill.]

[It's a lot like what he yelled at Perkins, just with less words and more wooly beast creature. He's going right for where shoulder meets neck with his mouth, too.]