Etraya: Inbox

[bootyshortsforoldmen]

TEXT • VOICE • VIDEO • ACTION
USERNAME: HANK

Hank here. I probably don’t give a rat’s ass what you have to say. Leave me alone. How the hell do I get this damn thing to stop rec — [BEEP]

Comments

un: Accelerator | text

[levelshift]

Hi.

I have something important to tell you, but you need to agree to not go drinking right after, first.

[...... Not that he expects Hank to actually live up to an agreement like that given the news, but he may as well try.]

[bootyshortsforoldmen]

Well that sounds ominous as fuck

And the exact kind of thing I’d need to get drunk for

[But how bad could it be, really?

How bad...?

Enough for Accelerator to text him. Enough for him to ask Hank not to drink. Even his little “hi” makes Hank feel uneasy.]

Don’t like to make promises I can’t keep, kid

[early january, action]

[tinflower]

[ Isn't it so nice to have an excuse to go outside in the cold because you have a dog, Hank? It's the dream of every pet owner in January. And Etraya has plenty of open space for walking a dog on or off its lead, and not much to be distracted by. There's been an increase of pets, lately, but how many other dogs? And not all of the buildings around have people in them. Not all of them even have furniture in them!

But you know what you can trust in Etraya to provide? Oddities. And here comes one such oddity while you happen to be taking Sumo for a walk: a ball. A metal-looking ball, actually, about the size of a soccer, just bouncing from around the corner of a path ahead of you. It rolls at first, as most balls do when left to their own devices, but then-- it bounces again. Upward, and then sideways, gaining momentum from its sudden, bizarre actions.

There's no one immediately ahead, but just a ball suffering peculiar spasms. What does Sumo think of this? What does Hank think of this?

(Don't worry, its owner will soon come into view. But first: look at that weird fucking ball.) ]

[bootyshortsforoldmen]

[Sumo’s a relatively lazy dog. Likes his walks, sure, but his days of stubbornly pulling at the leash to get Hank to investigate god-knows-what have been mostly left to his puppy years.

Until now, apparently. Sumo pauses mid-step when he sees the ball, his large paw hovering as he cocks his head. Sending slobber around his immediate vicinity — which Hank happens to be standing far enough away from, luckily.

Hank is eyeing the ball. Looks like bad news, like most of Etraya’s goings-on. RoboCops doing some weird experiment, maybe. Though Hank is a boring test subject. Just a guy who’s gotten very little sleep these past few days.

And a guy with a very large, one-hundred and seventy pound Saint Bernard who wants ball. He seems almost scared of it at first: stepping back closer to Hank, tail thumping. Whimpering the way he does whenever he sees Hank with food that he thinks should be his.

But then Sumo is bounding toward the oddly spasming ball like the silly dog he is, tugging Hank along.]

Not food, Sumo. It’s not fuckin’ food!

[Obviously. But Sumo seems entranced, regardless. What a strange ball! Not like those boring old squeaky toys Hank gets him, probably.]

un: mason | text

[ingestion]

hey old dude

you're banned from any of my parties for the next three months

[bootyshortsforoldmen]

You know, that’s fair

[Hank was going to apologize!! But then he did get kidnapped!

Not that Heather needs to know that. Hell, most people do not need to know that.]

Still sorry though. Putting myself in a situation with all that booze and no one to hold me accountable wasn’t my brightest idea

Been going through a lot lately. Not an excuse. Doing better though. I think?

I got my dog

[...He says, as if that makes everything here on Etraya better.]

UN: UNKNOWN | text

[pethetic]

hey

Uhhh whats up

Been a minute

wrote a thing I wanna show you. Metal, right?

[bootyshortsforoldmen]

Hey, Till.

[God, what hasn’t been up with Hank lately? So he meanders right on past that question.]

Feels like it’s been ages

Metal, yeah. Nice of you to remember

I’d love to hear it.

Can I bring my dog? He likes metal too

[Which isn’t exactly true. Sumo is more the jazz type, Hank has decided. Rolling over for belly rubs and thumping his tail whenever a record’s on — but that might just be him picking up on Hank’s mood.]

UN: 313 248 317 - 52

[instabilitatem]

Hank are you available this evening?

[bootyshortsforoldmen]

When am I not available, bud

What’s up?

[Should Hank worry...? He’s gonna worry.]

un: Accelerator; text

[levelshift]

[Hey man, he saw all that on the network, he knows the implications of 'shit went down but it's fine now' when both Hank and Connor are involved.]

Yo, what happened?

[bootyshortsforoldmen]

[God, where to begin??]

I guess the whole Solmara mission thing activated. Or whatever.

I’m not gonna lie. I don’t know all the specifics.

[Like why now, of all times.]

Connor shot his co-conspirators.

[Hank’s always assumed the network was compromised in some way — private messaging, too. So he assumes Aurora knows all this. Or she will now.]

And he deviated.

[He’s scared right now, which makes Hank scared too.]

And the WAHTEVER thing is fine. Aurora’s thing

[Not at all Hank’s priority, but it’s fine! Aurora is fine!!]

action overflow from robert's post?

[instabilitatem]

[Connor sets down his device after upsetting both Robert and Hank. He closes the door to his room and seeks out Sumo. Luckily, Sumo is on the couch and Connor joins him, running his fingers through Sumo's fur.]

hella!!!!

[bootyshortsforoldmen]

[Hank’s gone and pissed Connor off for the millionth time, thereabouts.

He’s bad at this. So goddamn bad. Why can’t he ever say the right thing? Do the right thing? Why can’t he magically figure out what Connor needs to hear and fucking say it?

Hank cares about everyone else, sure. He doesn’t want anyone to die. Doesn’t want anyone to get hurt. And yeah, maybe he would let one of Connor’s friends slug him — but preferably where Connor couldn't see because goddamn has the guy been through enough.

Everyone else can hate him. That’s fine — even when it’s not. He’s not exactly a likeable guy.

But Connor is different. If there’s one person on Etraya that Hank needs to believe in him... it’s Connor.

Hank rolls over in bed. Groaning. Setting down his stupid earpiece because he needs to stop getting into arguments with people on the network.

They’re never going to understand. And Hank will just have to deal with that. But Connor — him not understanding Hank is what hurts.

He’s getting up to splash some water on his face, get a drink of something that isn’t whiskey, when he sees Connor on the couch.

Connor said he wanted to spend some time with Sumo. Hank should respect that. And it’s not as if he has anything helpful to say, anyway.

Looking at the back of Connor’s head, though... Hank really misses his smile.]

You, uh — [clearing his throat as he stands awkwardly in the hallway] — you doing okay?

text; un: 313-248-317-52

[instabilitatem]

Hank I have a question.

Connor’s username will never not be amazing

[bootyshortsforoldmen]

Can just ask, Con. Don’t gotta ask if you can ask.

What’s up?

action;

[instabilitatem]

[Several days after they are in the new apartment, a new painting is hanging on the wall.]

💝!!!!

[bootyshortsforoldmen]

[It’s early afternoon and Hank is just waking up, still half-asleep in his T-shirt and shorts as Sumo snuffles noisily beside him. Following Hank to the kitchen as he pours some kibble in his bowl for lunch.

Hank is turning toward the living room, still groggy when he sees the painting and again says:] Huh.

[His arms aren’t crossed this time, but he is squinting.]

text on the way back to the apartment

[instabilitatem]

Alrys is gone.

[bootyshortsforoldmen]

[Hank’s following Aurora’s announcement and all, but still he’s gotta ask:]

GONE gone, right? Like dead? Really dead?

text; un: 313 248 313 - 52 (post-camp)

[instabilitatem]

I found your bracelet.

[bootyshortsforoldmen]

Oh yeah? Looking forward to it, Connor.

You end up making a bunch?

text; un: 313-248-317-52

[instabilitatem]

I've heard there is a Disneyland not far from here. Would you like to go?

[bootyshortsforoldmen]

I. Uh. Yes?

[ For Connor, he’s gotta remind himself. For Connor. ]

Sure thing. Is there anything at Disneyland you’re hankering to see?

Action! (backdated to Aug 15)

[instabilitatem]

[Connor doesn't really sleep so much as power down temporarily. It's good for him to rest and recharge as much as a human. He's taken to sleeping in Hank's bed on alternating nights. It's nice, even if Hank snores.

Last night was different. Last night Connor felt compelled to paint. It sits on the easel drying as the sun washes through the curtains and over the canvas itself.

Today, he is two years old. He knows of many birthday customs, but doesn't feel the need to indulge. Perhaps just another day with Hank would be nice. So, he sets about making coffee and breakfast. Sumo is kind enough to sit with him.

When he hears the sound of feet on the floor, Connor pauses to look around the corner.]

Good morning, Hank.

🎂!!!

[bootyshortsforoldmen]

Mornin’, Connor.

[ Hank got his teeth brushed, at least, but his hair’s still a mess. He tried not to look at it in the mirror, admittedly. Beard needs a trim? Later — as in someday. Eventually. ]

You know you don’t gotta make me breakfast all the time, but... thanks.

[ He pats Sumo’s head before sitting at the dining table. Yawning against his palm. ]

Action (Backdated to September 4th!)

[instabilitatem]

[Hank always wanted to be woken up by an android looming over him with a tray of breakfast, right? Well if he didn't, Connor tries to properly wake him with a call of his name.]

Good morning Hank! It is your birthday.

🎂

[bootyshortsforoldmen]

[ When Hank opens his eyes, he admittedly looks pissed. Eyes thinned. Lips pursed.

His gravelly voice hopefully expresses the truth: he’s just tired and a little confused. ]

Uh. Morning, Connor.

[ It’ll take him a minute to parse the rest: food. Birthday. ]