[Connor does, for what it's worth, lift his head up and give Hank a "what the fuck are you doing" look when he starts messing with his pants. Then he decides he doesn't care, he's too tired, and Hank can do what he likes as long as Connor gets to go to sleep. He huffs and half-helps to kick them off, then gets more comfortable on the bed again. Just hugging the pillow into his face, before he remembers that he actually has to breathe now and nearly suffocates himself doing it.]
[Hank would find that funny if he weren't so dead tired. It's a miracle that he manages to shed his coat, his stupid apron, loosen his belt and fly and then he collapses onto the bed on his back.]
[At least that went about as harmlessly as it possibly could have. And for once it takes him all of two minutes to fall asleep. When Connor wakes up, Hank'll still be out, his disheveled hair covering his eyes like the world's sorriest sheepdog.]
[Connor wakes up with the sheets over his head, so when he sits up he looks distinctly dishevelled. He looks at Hank, squints, and contemplates going back to sleep before deciding that he's probably slept long enough. For once though, he doesn't wake Hank up right away. He goes to shower instead, and takes absolutely ages because it's his first ever one and it feels damn good.
When he finally does come out, fully dressed again in his android suit simply because his other clothes need washing, he leans over Hank and taps his face.]
Lieutenant, it's 1:27PM. We were asleep for a long time. I think you should get up now.
[He gets a grumble in response, a loose reach for Connor's face, putting his hand over it as if he wants it to stop making noise. The grace of an ungainly octopus evident in this vague but successful flail. Stop unwanted sounds, stop. Sleep is good.]
[He can't see that stern look through his hair. He came armored against stern looks.]
I gotta finish the book.
[He mumbles. Like it's important. Hush Connor. He'll not understand the gibberish words he was dream reading before he was pulled out of that scenario and again forgot which one was reality.]
[And Hank ends up sputtering awake, sitting up and smearing his hand down his now wet face.] Connor! God fucking dammit!
[And he tries to hold onto shards of that dream. It was a nice one. But its lost in the fit of irritation at being doused with water. And fucking- now even the pillow is wet! He hopes they don't get charged extra for.... pillow drying or what the fuck ever. He doesn't know if pokeplaces fleece visitors or not.]
[Hank swings his legs off the bed and stares down at the floor. With a sour, sour expression on his face.]
I was dreaming I was reading to Cole! I didn't fucking want to wake up!
[He snaps, pushing at the towel rather than taking it.] Just clean off the mess you made on the bed. I'm going to shower.
[And everything pops when he stands up. He probably shouldn't even have said what he was dreaming of. He should have just walked off and went to the bathroom- which is what he does now.]
[Connor just sighs, feeling bad but ultimately believing that he did what he did for Hank's own good. He can't live his whole life wishing he was asleep, right?
Though when Hank does finally come out, Connor has cleaned the bed off and gives Hank an apologetic look.]
I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that.
[He doesn't regret waking him up, but maybe there are better methods of doing it.]
[He can and he will, thank you very much. His whole life.]
[But that said, Hank is willing to accept apologies, even at his most irritable.] You gotta come up with better ways to wake people up.
[He's got his hair combed back for the moment. Shock of shocks, Connor, Hank actually has ears. No one's seen them in years.] I'm gonna start tallying up this shit so one day when I throw you in a cold shower you won't be able to complain.
[He takes a cue from Connor and has changed back into his normal cop clothes, the ones he wore on his last day in Detroit.] There is a tablet that came with my stuff. Can you hand it to me? We need to make a checklist.
Apparently. I figured it might help you to have some references. [Even if some of them ended up more along the lines of teenager self-help books, Connor would at least have something to go by.]
[Hank doesn't know whether it's a good or bad thing, so after a few self-conscious moments he jostles it so that it lays more like usual (just wetly so).]
So. Laundry. Groceries. Books. Figure out how we'll get more money. What else?
Right. Good one. [Hank writes that one down. Then really takes note that Connor's back in his outfit.] And some general pain relievers and a medkit.
...I have a question for you, Connor. We made it this far but... [He eyes that suit and thinks about it. That spiteful triangle, that labeling of a number that seems cruel now.] Would you want a fresh start without me holding you back? I mean, after this... We don't have to be together. I don't want to be a reminder of your bad experiences.
[He's gotten so he actually likes the prick. He wants to spend time with him. And if they'd stayed at home, he had every intention of making up for his previous behavior towards him. But here, Connor has a chance to be appreciated and loved from square one. Without being shoved into walls or having guns aimed at him.] It's your choice.
[He pauses, just standing there, holding his notebook awkwardly.]
No. I don't want to leave you. I just wanted to make sure you knew you were free to do what you wanted. Figured after all you and your people had been through, human or not, you deserved to have that.
Not that you ever listened to me anyway. [He clears his throat, tries to laugh it off, but it's just a strange noise.] And I'm a huge fuckin' mess. [An anchor, heavy and dragging the floor, for someone like Connor. He looks back to his tablet but it's obvious its an idle gesture. He's no longer actually writing. His note now has a doodle of Crockett in sunglasses.]
Well, I suppose I could figure out being a human on my own eventually, but I'd rather do it with you.
[He gives Hank what he hopes is a reassuring smile.]
But I understand. You're trying to give me my independence. You may be a mess, Lieutenant, but I'm fond of you. It wouldn't feel quite right, doing this alone.
This might be me over-thinking things, but I think your smiles are a little easier.
[His chest warms a little over it, too. One damn person in the world would miss him if he was gone. Which is more than he had a month ago. Finally, he pockets the notebook.]
Do you wanna rock-paper-scissors over who does the laundry?
[He grabs his pack, the clothes out of it, the apron out of the floor (don't ask, he doesn't know either) and piles them where Connor can take them.]
[He then pulls out his pokeball, and looks at it with all the confusion of that coin he'd stolen from Connor and tried to do a trick with. A moment later, he's brought Tubbs back into existence, and he seems happy as ever to have seen them.]
[He ruffles the dog's fuzzy cheeks, happy to see that he wasn't gone forever, and Tubbs dances from foot to foot in excitement over having been brought out.] I guess we can have breakfast after that gets started.
[He gathers all the clothes up and gets started, and when he comes back he greets Tubbs with as much enthusiasm as the dog. He loves dogs. It also reminds him he hasn't let Charlotte out since he caught her, so he opens her ball and watches as she starts to skitter up the wall and promptly begins making a web in the corner.]
We should extend our stay here. I can't imagine we'll be leaving the town for a few days.
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[At least that went about as harmlessly as it possibly could have. And for once it takes him all of two minutes to fall asleep. When Connor wakes up, Hank'll still be out, his disheveled hair covering his eyes like the world's sorriest sheepdog.]
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When he finally does come out, fully dressed again in his android suit simply because his other clothes need washing, he leans over Hank and taps his face.]
Lieutenant, it's 1:27PM. We were asleep for a long time. I think you should get up now.
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Oversleeping is bad for your health. And if you sleep in too late, you won't be tired tonight.
[He sits at the edge of Hank's bed, giving him a stern look.]
Hank.
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I gotta finish the book.
[He mumbles. Like it's important. Hush Connor. He'll not understand the gibberish words he was dream reading before he was pulled out of that scenario and again forgot which one was reality.]
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[And he tries to hold onto shards of that dream. It was a nice one. But its lost in the fit of irritation at being doused with water. And fucking- now even the pillow is wet! He hopes they don't get charged extra for.... pillow drying or what the fuck ever. He doesn't know if pokeplaces fleece visitors or not.]
[Hank swings his legs off the bed and stares down at the floor. With a sour, sour expression on his face.]
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You weren't listening to me.
[And Connor doesn't quite know how to gently wake up someone who really doesn't want to be woken up.]
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[He snaps, pushing at the towel rather than taking it.] Just clean off the mess you made on the bed. I'm going to shower.
[And everything pops when he stands up. He probably shouldn't even have said what he was dreaming of. He should have just walked off and went to the bathroom- which is what he does now.]
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Though when Hank does finally come out, Connor has cleaned the bed off and gives Hank an apologetic look.]
I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that.
[He doesn't regret waking him up, but maybe there are better methods of doing it.]
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[But that said, Hank is willing to accept apologies, even at his most irritable.] You gotta come up with better ways to wake people up.
[He's got his hair combed back for the moment. Shock of shocks, Connor, Hank actually has ears. No one's seen them in years.] I'm gonna start tallying up this shit so one day when I throw you in a cold shower you won't be able to complain.
[He takes a cue from Connor and has changed back into his normal cop clothes, the ones he wore on his last day in Detroit.] There is a tablet that came with my stuff. Can you hand it to me? We need to make a checklist.
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What kind of checklist?
[He sits back on the bed, with Magnemite floating closer now that the two don't seem to be fighting anymore.]
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[He's sort of writing as he says it.]
Groceries... I can't even make a list. I don't know what the fuck they have. Protein. Vegetables. Carbs. And then a desert a piece.
Do we gotta feed you guys? [He asks Crockett. Because if so, that needs to be on the list.] What? [He notes Connor's staring finally.]
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[He blinks at Hank's question, then tilts his head a little.]
Nothing. I'm just not used to seeing your hair pulled back, that's all.
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[Hank doesn't know whether it's a good or bad thing, so after a few self-conscious moments he jostles it so that it lays more like usual (just wetly so).]
So. Laundry. Groceries. Books. Figure out how we'll get more money. What else?
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I'm not sure. More clothes?
[They only have the two outfits right now, and having two outfits for what could be several days travelling feels like it's not enough.]
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...I have a question for you, Connor. We made it this far but... [He eyes that suit and thinks about it. That spiteful triangle, that labeling of a number that seems cruel now.] Would you want a fresh start without me holding you back? I mean, after this... We don't have to be together. I don't want to be a reminder of your bad experiences.
[He's gotten so he actually likes the prick. He wants to spend time with him. And if they'd stayed at home, he had every intention of making up for his previous behavior towards him. But here, Connor has a chance to be appreciated and loved from square one. Without being shoved into walls or having guns aimed at him.] It's your choice.
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You don't want to travel with me?
[Or did Connor make it seem like he didn't want to travel with Hank? He frowns.]
Is this because I tipped water on you? I told you I was sorry.
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[He pauses, just standing there, holding his notebook awkwardly.]
No. I don't want to leave you. I just wanted to make sure you knew you were free to do what you wanted. Figured after all you and your people had been through, human or not, you deserved to have that.
Not that you ever listened to me anyway. [He clears his throat, tries to laugh it off, but it's just a strange noise.] And I'm a huge fuckin' mess. [An anchor, heavy and dragging the floor, for someone like Connor. He looks back to his tablet but it's obvious its an idle gesture. He's no longer actually writing. His note now has a doodle of Crockett in sunglasses.]
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[He gives Hank what he hopes is a reassuring smile.]
But I understand. You're trying to give me my independence. You may be a mess, Lieutenant, but I'm fond of you. It wouldn't feel quite right, doing this alone.
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This might be me over-thinking things, but I think your smiles are a little easier.
[His chest warms a little over it, too. One damn person in the world would miss him if he was gone. Which is more than he had a month ago. Finally, he pockets the notebook.]
Do you wanna rock-paper-scissors over who does the laundry?
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[Even though Hank already seems to have forgiven him for tipping water on his face.]
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[He grabs his pack, the clothes out of it, the apron out of the floor (don't ask, he doesn't know either) and piles them where Connor can take them.]
[He then pulls out his pokeball, and looks at it with all the confusion of that coin he'd stolen from Connor and tried to do a trick with. A moment later, he's brought Tubbs back into existence, and he seems happy as ever to have seen them.]
[He ruffles the dog's fuzzy cheeks, happy to see that he wasn't gone forever, and Tubbs dances from foot to foot in excitement over having been brought out.] I guess we can have breakfast after that gets started.
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We should extend our stay here. I can't imagine we'll be leaving the town for a few days.
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