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]

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[bootyshortsforoldmen]

[Hank watches Connor, trying to commit that smile to memory. And human memories fade with time, but he’ll remember this.

He raises his own fork to his mouth, eyes widening. The cake is sweet and boozy.]

Damn. [Hank lets the flavors settle on his tongue before swallowing.] I’ve never had a whiskey cake before, y’know.

[instabilitatem]

[Connor continues to smack his tongue as the frosting lingers on his tongue. Once he gets it off he nods.]

I thought you might like a non-traditional cake. [Connor sets his fork down, keeping the nutrient information to himself this time. As he climbs to his feet, he asks,] Do you like it?

[bootyshortsforoldmen]

You know what? [Hank has another bite of cake.] Yeah. It’s like rum cake, but... well. Stronger.

[Whiskey itself is already kind of an overwhelming flavor, and the cake perhaps even more so. But with the added sweetness, it reminds Hank of some of the whiskey cocktails he likes. He grimaces a little at the next bite — this bit of icing is even boozier — but he swallows it down. Just like drinking the real thing, honestly.]

You went and got more whiskey, huh?

[instabilitatem]

I did. Now that I know it's not replacing me. [Connor does his funny little wink and then disappears back into his room. He emerges moments later with what can only be described as a trash bag. A very rumpled trash bag. He sets it on the table next to the lasagna and seems particularly excited by it.]

TRASH BAG LMFAO

[bootyshortsforoldmen]

[Hank’s paused his cake eating to actually cut the lasagna, and then...]

Uh.

[Connor looks very excited about a trash bag, which is both confusing and endearing. The guy is just so damn earnest.]

Do you need me to take this out for you?

trash bag aesthetic

[instabilitatem]

No. [!!!] Please open it.

[Inside is a digital camera, maybe not as fancy as the ear devices, but will most certainly take up more physical space.]

[bootyshortsforoldmen]

[Hank gives Connor one of his squinty “the fuck are you up to?” looks before reaching for the bag.

Really just a trash bag, huh? Hank hmms, pulling it open, and —]

Oh. [He holds the camera in his hands. Just staring down at it before he starts to turn it.

Hank should be taking more pictures. His memory isn’t bad, but the images go fast. Get all blurry in his head.]

You gonna show me how to use this thing?

[instabilitatem]

Of course. [Connor mimicks holding a camera.] Put your eye to the clear rectangle in the center. Then press the large button on the right side.

[Well all that comes after turning on the camera.]

It should have enough storage for thousands of pictures. And there's a flash for low light environments.

[bootyshortsforoldmen]

How do I — [grumbling a little as he stands up to offer Connor the camera] — tell if the flash is on?

[Usually there’s that little electric bolt symbol, right? He doesn’t want to blind someone. Not Connor, anyway.]

[instabilitatem]

I believe the flash is on if there is a lightning bolt symbol. If the flash is off, the lightning bolt is crossed through.

[Connor is pleased that Hank seems to like the gift, though!]

[bootyshortsforoldmen]

Yeah. Okay. [Not unlike some of the older cameras back home, although Hank hasn’t actually gone and taken his own pictures like this since... well. It’s been a long time.

He steps back, raising the camera to his face as he points it at Connor. Snapping a picture that appears blurry on the little screen, so Hank tries again.]

This is... okay, right? I mean — is it okay if I have pictures of you?

[instabilitatem]

Of course. Would you like me to smile?

[He doesn't wait to be asked and smiles on his own. It's bright, unhindered by the future, and also just as goofy as Connor is.]

[bootyshortsforoldmen]

I would like you to smile, yeah. [Hank snaps a few more shots of Connor. And then approximately a dozen more because you just never know with these things.

Once Hank lowers the camera, he says:] Want you to smile more in general, I mean. Not just for pictures.

[Aiming the camera over to Sumo, laying in his bed in the living area:] You got a real nice smile, Connor.

[instabilitatem]

[Connor smiles through out the mini portrait session and then smiles over at Sumo when Hank aims the camera that direction.]

I'd like to smile more. [He's just got. A lot on his plate. A lot to think about.]

[bootyshortsforoldmen]

Yeah? Well, we’ll find you lots to smile about.

[Like Sumo, with his legs twitching in his sleep. Dreaming he’s chasing something, maybe — like a nice steak.

Hank takes a few more pictures of Sumo, creeping around the couch to get a better zoom, before he returns to set the camera back on the table. Next to its trash bag wrapping.]

Thanks, Connor. And thanks for my... birthday. [Early birthday? Super early?] You got any more surprises up your sleeve?

[instabilitatem]

No, these are the last of them. [Until he's repaired and the plan starts.] I wanted to make sure we celebrated.

[bootyshortsforoldmen]

[Hank thins his eyes.]

No, no — I think you’re forgetting something there, Connor. Something real important.

[instabilitatem]

Am I? [Connor cocks his head ever so slightly.]

[bootyshortsforoldmen]

Obviously. [Hank rolls his eyes.] Thought we talked about this.

[He steps closer to Connor, easing him into a hug.]

[instabilitatem]

[Connor will never turn down a hug from Hank, especially now that they aren't painful. He shuts his eyes and allows himself to absorb the sensation. Who knows when Accelerator will get those parts.]

cn: mention of Cole

[bootyshortsforoldmen]

[Being so insistent on hugs all the time makes Hank feel especially old, like the grandpa on family trips who also demands a million hugs.

But it’s worth it. He tries to keep his hugs short, at least. Usually.

Except when they’re not.]

Oh, and — [Hank pats Connor’s head before stepping back to grab the camera again] — indulge me, okay?

[Raising the camera so the lens is faced toward them.]

It’s cringy; yeah, yeah — just let me have this. It’s my damn birthday, or whatever.

[It’s one thing Hank wished he had more with Cole: pictures of them together.]

[instabilitatem]

[Connor turns his head so he can smile into the camera with Hank.]

Happy birthday, Hank.

[And he hopes it's a good one.]

[bootyshortsforoldmen]

Thanks, Con.

[Hank takes a few dozen pictures again, just in case.]

Next we can celebrate your super early birthday, yeah?

[instabilitatem]

I can’t eat cake or lasagna.

[What do androids do to celebrate birthdays? He certainly hadn’t celebrated in Solmara.]

[bootyshortsforoldmen]

Can still do your little scan thing, if you wanted. It’d be your day. You ever wanna know the exact make-up of, hell, I dunno, fettuccine alfredo — we could get you some damn fettuccine alfredo.

[Setting the camera back on the table before turning to Connor.]

And food is important for celebrations, sure, but only if you want it to be. It’s more about what you want. Could go all out and blow up balloons. Decorate. Invite your friends. Get a little party hat for Sumo.

Could go to the bounce castle, Connor. You ever think about that?