[He wants to argue against robbing a bank but honestly, it's a fuckin' bank, they're thieves and liars and Connor's plan is about the most nonlethal and private way they can get some funds right now.]
Yeah. Yeah, I'll look for something too. [He doesn't want Connor to have to support him, it's some primitive MAN MUST SUPPORT FAMILY vibe in him, ignoring the fact that Connor is also a man and that he has the more hirable face. Just not the more employable paperwork at this very moment.]
Alright. We'll go get you something, and maybe me something... Probably going to need a fuckin' change of clothes. I've not actually had a chance to get cleaned up since that asshole you held a gun to my head.
[There's something about the way that Connors adjusts his collar that gets to him, and his chest tightens up again. He might be imagining it, but his cheeks feel like they're heating up a little, and briefly he forgets to breathe.]
[He misses every word. Connor might as well have been Charlie Brown's damned teacher for three seconds there, tuba and trombone noises coming out of his mouth because the fool decided to take a liberty and straighten his collar.]
[His stomach answers for him, growling loudly, as if it's saying, "No, it's fine, I got this, you look busy." And he looks down at it accusingly. Right. Hungry.] I guess I am. Not a lot of places open in an abandoned city.
[Connor's hands falter on Hank's collar for a moment as he notices Hank's reaction. Namely, that his cheeks are a little flushed and that his breath hitched for a second there. He lets go, head slightly tilted. He immediately does a full physical scan, noting that his heart is beating faster. Interesting.]
Let's go, then.
[He gestures to the door, but he's still looking at Hank like he's trying to figure something out.]
Right. [Hank says awkward, half-ass trying to straighten out his own clothes in a way that's more fidgeting than preening. His eyes decided motel carpet is a good thing to look at instead of Connor's curious expression, and he just heads for the door.]
I guess I should be glad we're in a small town and everything's within spitting distance of each other. Not like I have my car.
[Connor follows Hank outside, still trying to work things out. He's distracted now, trying to figure out what's wrong with him. It doesn't seem serious, but he can't shake the feeling that it was him who caused it.]
I could carry you.
[Offered nonchalantly, as he looks around them. Then he brings up the phone he was given, using it far quicker than Hank would have to find a map. He memorises it, then pockets the phone again.]
[Hank still hasn't actually achieved maximum phone as he hasn't sat down to try and mess with it again, so he doesn't even bother. He just lets Connor do that and follows, hands in his pockets as he tries to work out that reaction and focus on the situation at hand and not some bullshit hormones.]
[He'll have to shield him at the ATM. Okay. Yeah. Focus on that.]
Its cold out. Remember that when buying clothes.
[AKA He's skinny and he'll have to look like a person who gets cold.]
[He finds an ATM and looks around before pressing a hand to it, skin melting away at the contact. There's a whirr as the machine works, then a wad of cash is spat out of the front. Connor pockets it and pats Hank on the arm.]
Come on, let's go.
[He takes them to a clothing store, and starts to shuffle clothes around on racks. He ends up picking out a nice button up blue shirt, a black one, a dark red one, and a black hoodie along with some jeans. He also buys a pack of black and white t-shirts just for variety. He soon gets tired of looking, though. He finds Hank with his purchases in a bag, and looks at what he's focused on.]
I don't know. I didn't want to go shopping in a mystery universe today.
[He's had time to fumble through those reactions and get stuck right back in 'why the hell is this happening' brain. He's looking at a plaid flannel shirt with the grim awareness he's both regressing into his grunge era teenage clothing but also going to look like a fucking local cowboy if he gets this shit.]
[He looks questioningly over at Connor as he grabs some undershirts to go with the jeans and jacket and whatever the hell else he settles on. He genuinely doesn't know what to get.]
I'm not falling apart or anything, if that's what you're asking.
No... I'm alright. This is easy compared to what we've been through. It's just doesn't make any sense. [He puts his hand on the back of Connor's neck, arm resting on his shoulder.] I'll be okay.
[After another pang of his heart, though, he lets his hand slip away and he gives up on the shirt.] You dress me then. Just as long as it makes sense. I don't give a damn.
[Connor probably can pick better than him anyway.]
[Connor scans the shop for clothes that would fit Hank's body shape, and comes back with a printed black shirt.]
This would suit you, I think.
[It's still classy enough to be formal in Connor's opinion, but it's not plain so he hopes Hank would like it better than something with no print on it. And honestly? He kind of thinks the design is neat.]
[And he gets a few more along that line, that are very muted colors rather than his usual nightmares. Then he grabs a pair of decent workboots and goes up front to check out. He's awkward about it, too, especially since it's some middle-aged woman who is doing her best to make playful eyes at him.]
[You know what, it's good knowing he hasn't lost it entirely? But he'd like to leave now. Thanks.]
[Connor glances over at the woman, and feels a strange sense of wanting to get Hank away from her quickly. So he grabs Hank's arm and gently steers him away once he's done paying, much to the woman's annoyance.]
Let's get something to eat, shall we?
[He can tell Hank didn't want to be in that situation, but he's not sure that's the only reason he pulled him away.]
[Hank makes a surprised noise, which is pretty funny on it's own. It sort of drowns out the woman's attempt to get his attention before he's drowned out.]
Yeah. Let's fuckin'... get something. Jesus Christ I almost asked you what you're in the mood for. [He chuckles, just because it's pretty funny, but it's a small town and he knows their options are probably "diner" and "worst Chinese food ever."]
Where's the closest diner? Might as well make the most of a shit situation.
[So he leads them there, a little distracted by his reaction back there but not too much. Once they enter he looks around, and for the first time in his short life wishes he could eat food. It would make blending in so much easier.]
[Hank follows Connor, looking at the buildings that are rarely over three stories high and if they are he'd wager they were some sort of factory thing.]
[Hank counts out the few bills that he has left. That means he can grab some junk food at the store and a little water and-]
I'm going to need a little whiskey at least. I don't think I can handle quitting cold turkey.
[He doesn't look thrilled about it, but he nods with a sigh.]
If you need it.
[For now he'll follow Hank, though every time he picks something up Connor scans it. And for a few things, he makes an unhappy noise and folds his arms. "There's twice the daily recommended amount of salt in these." "Did you even look at how much sugar is in those?"]
Yeah... yeah I need it. [It's at least a start, a grim admission that, yes, he's an alcoholic. And maybe he needs to go through the process of not wanting to be one.]
[They get to the diner and Hank orders the biggest fucking burger he can. One with all the trimmings, because you can't hardly get those in the city. He has a coke with too much sugar and a donut and he's fucking starving.]
I don't care. I haven't eaten since the evac.
[He stuffs the thing in his face as soon as it's delivered with all the enthusiasm of meeting a Dagwood sized sandwich.]
[Connor sighs heavily but doesn’t protest any more. Instead he starts to watch other people, and catches the eye of a young woman who seems to be watching him with her friends. She giggles and looks away, her friends teasing her and encouraging her to talk to him. Connor kind of hopes she doesn’t come over.]
We’ll get you sober eventually. And maybe we’ll get you eating healthier, too. You do know that the name of that burger is “Death by Cow”, right? It’s in the menu as a challenge. You might win a shirt, but is it worth it?
I might win a what with a death by who? [Hank is already halfway through the monstrosity when he notices the girl looking. And he's driven, self-conciously, to wipe his face with a napkin out of an oppressive sense of.... He doesn't know? What the hell does it matter to him, outside of Connor's android identity. Connor can look out for himself. He doesn't need to babysit him.]
Look, Connor. I'm not going to cut all fatty food out of my life. Especially when it's cheap and I'm this hungry. But if you really want me to I'll box up half, save it for later.
[He'd really rather eat it hot, though.]
[He almost brings up that girl that might come over there and talk to them, but he can't bring himself to do it, because he might sound jealous, right? Right. Pffft. Jealous. Why would he be jealous? Nah. It does something between making him lose his appetite and making him want to eat more, though.]
I don’t want you to cut it all out, I just... it’s called death by cow, Hank.
[He doesn’t feel like that’s getting through to him.]
If you’re going to eat it, it doesn’t matter if it’s now or later. You’ve bought it now, so enjoy it. Might as well try to get that shirt, right?
[Hey, it’s more clothes for them. The girl slides out of her seat and comes over finally, so Connor looks her way. She’s very pretty, but he still draws a blank when she presses a scrap of paper into his hand and hurries back off to her friends, slightly red. He looks down at the paper. It’s a phone number with the words “call me” underneath it. He seems confused, but pockets it.]
Fuck that cow. I can take it. [Because he's hungry, and contest or not, he could eat it. So he starts scarfing it down again, which he knows isn't the most attractive thing. And it's that self-consciousness that actually leads him to trying to not get any condiments in his beard, as a self-conscious man do.]
She's trying to flirt with you.
[God he's trying not to sound like it bothers him, but the edge of annoyance enters his voice as he uses his napkin. He's already almost done.]
God it really had been a while since I'd last eaten.
[Connor looks over again to see the girl making very pretty eyes at him, but he's not really moved. He does catch that irritation in Hank's voice, though.]
Would you like me to get rid of the number?
[Not that it would matter, it's locked in his memory now.]
Try to eat slower. You'll make yourself feel ill.
[He sounds genuinely concerned for him, at least. And far more interested in Hank than the girl.]
[But then he hesitates.] Look, it's your free will to do what you want. Me telling you what to do in a non-job setting would be pretty assholish of me, after you went through all that shit to be-
[Considered a person? He holds his tongue in public, on the off chance they might be overheard. Best not to say too much.]
What you do with it is up to you.
...But if you do, don't do it in front of her. You'll give her a complex or something. [He picks up his Coke and drinks it, following Connor's advice and letting the food he's eaten settle. Small wins for Connor.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[He wants to argue against robbing a bank but honestly, it's a fuckin' bank, they're thieves and liars and Connor's plan is about the most nonlethal and private way they can get some funds right now.]
Yeah. Yeah, I'll look for something too. [He doesn't want Connor to have to support him, it's some primitive MAN MUST SUPPORT FAMILY vibe in him, ignoring the fact that Connor is also a man and that he has the more hirable face. Just not the more employable paperwork at this very moment.]
Alright. We'll go get you something, and maybe me something... Probably going to need a fuckin' change of clothes. I've not actually had a chance to get cleaned up since that asshole you held a gun to my head.
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[He's still standing pretty close to Hank, and he reaches out to adjust Hank's collar slightly.]
We can go for food afterwards. You must be hungry.
[Connor gives Hank a little smile, trying to seem like the situation is manageable.]
Maybe we can go shopping for food later, too.
[You just know Connor is going to analyse everything Hank picks up.]
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[There's something about the way that Connors adjusts his collar that gets to him, and his chest tightens up again. He might be imagining it, but his cheeks feel like they're heating up a little, and briefly he forgets to breathe.]
[He misses every word. Connor might as well have been Charlie Brown's damned teacher for three seconds there, tuba and trombone noises coming out of his mouth because the fool decided to take a liberty and straighten his collar.]
[His stomach answers for him, growling loudly, as if it's saying, "No, it's fine, I got this, you look busy." And he looks down at it accusingly. Right. Hungry.] I guess I am. Not a lot of places open in an abandoned city.
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Let's go, then.
[He gestures to the door, but he's still looking at Hank like he's trying to figure something out.]
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I guess I should be glad we're in a small town and everything's within spitting distance of each other. Not like I have my car.
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I could carry you.
[Offered nonchalantly, as he looks around them. Then he brings up the phone he was given, using it far quicker than Hank would have to find a map. He memorises it, then pockets the phone again.]
This way.
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[He'll have to shield him at the ATM. Okay. Yeah. Focus on that.]
Its cold out. Remember that when buying clothes.
[AKA He's skinny and he'll have to look like a person who gets cold.]
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[He finds an ATM and looks around before pressing a hand to it, skin melting away at the contact. There's a whirr as the machine works, then a wad of cash is spat out of the front. Connor pockets it and pats Hank on the arm.]
Come on, let's go.
[He takes them to a clothing store, and starts to shuffle clothes around on racks. He ends up picking out a nice button up blue shirt, a black one, a dark red one, and a black hoodie along with some jeans. He also buys a pack of black and white t-shirts just for variety. He soon gets tired of looking, though. He finds Hank with his purchases in a bag, and looks at what he's focused on.]
How are you doing?
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[He's had time to fumble through those reactions and get stuck right back in 'why the hell is this happening' brain. He's looking at a plaid flannel shirt with the grim awareness he's both regressing into his grunge era teenage clothing but also going to look like a fucking local cowboy if he gets this shit.]
[He looks questioningly over at Connor as he grabs some undershirts to go with the jeans and jacket and whatever the hell else he settles on. He genuinely doesn't know what to get.]
I'm not falling apart or anything, if that's what you're asking.
[Just really fucking lost.]
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Do you need to sit down, Lieutenant?
[He glances at the plaid shirt.]
For what it's worth, I think you could... perhaps do a little better than that.
[Your fashion choices are alarming, Hank.]
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[After another pang of his heart, though, he lets his hand slip away and he gives up on the shirt.] You dress me then. Just as long as it makes sense. I don't give a damn.
[Connor probably can pick better than him anyway.]
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This would suit you, I think.
[It's still classy enough to be formal in Connor's opinion, but it's not plain so he hopes Hank would like it better than something with no print on it. And honestly? He kind of thinks the design is neat.]
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[And he gets a few more along that line, that are very muted colors rather than his usual nightmares. Then he grabs a pair of decent workboots and goes up front to check out. He's awkward about it, too, especially since it's some middle-aged woman who is doing her best to make playful eyes at him.]
[You know what, it's good knowing he hasn't lost it entirely? But he'd like to leave now. Thanks.]
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Let's get something to eat, shall we?
[He can tell Hank didn't want to be in that situation, but he's not sure that's the only reason he pulled him away.]
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Yeah. Let's fuckin'... get something. Jesus Christ I almost asked you what you're in the mood for. [He chuckles, just because it's pretty funny, but it's a small town and he knows their options are probably "diner" and "worst Chinese food ever."]
Where's the closest diner? Might as well make the most of a shit situation.
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It's this way.
[So he leads them there, a little distracted by his reaction back there but not too much. Once they enter he looks around, and for the first time in his short life wishes he could eat food. It would make blending in so much easier.]
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[Hank counts out the few bills that he has left. That means he can grab some junk food at the store and a little water and-]
I'm going to need a little whiskey at least. I don't think I can handle quitting cold turkey.
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If you need it.
[For now he'll follow Hank, though every time he picks something up Connor scans it. And for a few things, he makes an unhappy noise and folds his arms. "There's twice the daily recommended amount of salt in these." "Did you even look at how much sugar is in those?"]
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[They get to the diner and Hank orders the biggest fucking burger he can. One with all the trimmings, because you can't hardly get those in the city. He has a coke with too much sugar and a donut and he's fucking starving.]
I don't care. I haven't eaten since the evac.
[He stuffs the thing in his face as soon as it's delivered with all the enthusiasm of meeting a Dagwood sized sandwich.]
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We’ll get you sober eventually. And maybe we’ll get you eating healthier, too. You do know that the name of that burger is “Death by Cow”, right? It’s in the menu as a challenge. You might win a shirt, but is it worth it?
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Look, Connor. I'm not going to cut all fatty food out of my life. Especially when it's cheap and I'm this hungry. But if you really want me to I'll box up half, save it for later.
[He'd really rather eat it hot, though.]
[He almost brings up that girl that might come over there and talk to them, but he can't bring himself to do it, because he might sound jealous, right? Right. Pffft. Jealous. Why would he be jealous? Nah. It does something between making him lose his appetite and making him want to eat more, though.]
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[He doesn’t feel like that’s getting through to him.]
If you’re going to eat it, it doesn’t matter if it’s now or later. You’ve bought it now, so enjoy it. Might as well try to get that shirt, right?
[Hey, it’s more clothes for them. The girl slides out of her seat and comes over finally, so Connor looks her way. She’s very pretty, but he still draws a blank when she presses a scrap of paper into his hand and hurries back off to her friends, slightly red. He looks down at the paper. It’s a phone number with the words “call me” underneath it. He seems confused, but pockets it.]
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She's trying to flirt with you.
[God he's trying not to sound like it bothers him, but the edge of annoyance enters his voice as he uses his napkin. He's already almost done.]
God it really had been a while since I'd last eaten.
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Would you like me to get rid of the number?
[Not that it would matter, it's locked in his memory now.]
Try to eat slower. You'll make yourself feel ill.
[He sounds genuinely concerned for him, at least. And far more interested in Hank than the girl.]
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[But then he hesitates.] Look, it's your free will to do what you want. Me telling you what to do in a non-job setting would be pretty assholish of me, after you went through all that shit to be-
[Considered a person? He holds his tongue in public, on the off chance they might be overheard. Best not to say too much.]
What you do with it is up to you.
...But if you do, don't do it in front of her. You'll give her a complex or something. [He picks up his Coke and drinks it, following Connor's advice and letting the food he's eaten settle. Small wins for Connor.]
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