[Connor isn't sure what he's waiting for, but he waits very obediently. For once, he doesn't follow Hank. Then, Hank is back with a bottle of whiskey and Connor's head tilts in the silent question of where did that come from. However, he waits for an explanation to come.
When he has a glass with a smidgen of whiskey in front of him instead.
Well, might as well. He lifts the glass and empties it.
Connor squints at the burning in his mouth, but then alcohol works through systems not designed to process it. He sticks out his tongue and shakes his head. Then he shakes his head again and he reaches up for his neck.] I think you were right. I'm not designed to drink any...
[And then up comes the whiskey, purged with cup's worth of thirium. Blue paints the cooking pan as Connor wipes his mouth.]
cn: vomiting
When he has a glass with a smidgen of whiskey in front of him instead.
Well, might as well. He lifts the glass and empties it.
Connor squints at the burning in his mouth, but then alcohol works through systems not designed to process it. He sticks out his tongue and shakes his head. Then he shakes his head again and he reaches up for his neck.] I think you were right. I'm not designed to drink any...
[And then up comes the whiskey, purged with cup's worth of thirium. Blue paints the cooking pan as Connor wipes his mouth.]