bootyshortsforoldmen | Etraya: Inbox

No, Connor, I was just wondering.

[Hank clears his throat.]

How do you, uh — feel without it, then? Good?

[Connor frowns before looking up at Hank again.]

I feel the same. It wasn't obstructing any of my abilities.

Yeah? Well. [Hank tries to give him a look-over, eyes darting down and back up, although not much has changed.] You look good, Connor.

Not that you looked bad with the tie, but — y’know what I mean.

Thanks, Hank. [And there's a hint of that smile. Connor still doesn't feel his best, but he's trying to recover.]

I think I may stay with cooking for now.

Glad to hear it, Connor.

[That smile...! Fleeting, perhaps. But one step at a time.

One day at a time.]

And I don’t just mean that ‘cause I get to eat what you cook. [Although it’s a nice bonus.] It’s nice to see you... getting all creative. Enjoying things.

I believe we have steak and eggs in fridge. I have a recipe for that.

[Connor won't eat any of it, but he likes plating the meal, presenting colors.

Maybe art would be the next step.]

Have you seen art supplies in Etraya?

Sounds good, Connor.

[When isn’t Hank up for eggs? Steak?!]

Maybe even ol’ Sumo can get a bite of steak.

[The dog raises his head at the sound of his name — and steak! — but only slightly. Perhaps not interested unless there are smells to go along with the words.]

Haven’t seen art supplies, no, but I’m sure the store’s got ‘em. Is there anything particular you’re interested in? We can check it out sometime.

Sumo is welcome to have some steak.

[Connor sees Sumo perk up and there's that smile peeking out of the storm clouds again.]

I'm not sure. I've never tried anything artistic.

Careful there, Connor. Might think you’re just here to spoil Sumo.

[Hank meets Connor’s soft smile with his own. Looking down at his lap as he thinks.]

Well, you got that whole room now. Why not get a little of everything?

[And with that, Connor's small smile blossoms into a full smile.]

Are there materials enough to try a little of everything?

[Hank could never match Connor’s smile, really, but something inside him insists on trying.]

Don’t worry about it. If the store doesn’t have something you want, I’ll figure it out. I’m all resourceful like that.

[He’s not. But for Connor, he’ll make it work. Pull some strings. Beg for favors. That sort of thing.]

I like it when you smile like that, Hank.

[Connor likes it best when they both smile, when they both seem to be enjoying themselves.]

It doesn't need to be a pull on resources. I wouldn't want Etraya to become another Solmara.

Yeah? [Hank looks away. Covers his smile with his hand for a second before dropping it. It’s embarrassing.]

Not a burden, or anything like that. We just need to find where stuff is. And if you want, I dunno... watercolors, and the store doesn’t have it, I’m sure someone might know how to make them. Can’t be that hard, yeah? Mixing pigments, and all that.

[He knows nothing about watercolors other than “water” and “colors.”]

[Connor's smile widens as he watches Hank.]

I think paper and pencil would be a better place to start. Maybe some basic paint.

Simple enough. [Paper? Pencil?? Hank can do that.

Probably.

But paint might require some manner of specialized paper. Canvas?? Cole used to do his little fingerprinting on printer paper.]

We’ll get you whatever you need, Connor. I could pop out while you’re working on dinner. How's that sound?

Be careful. [ Connor is distinctly aware of how disliked both of them are. He stands from the couch to start searching the fridge for the steak.]

I will. [Hank still has Catdog’s gun, too. Not that he’s taking it with him, nor does he have any intention of using it, but... he has it.

He’s never been a very well liked guy here, anyway. Now everyone's got an actual reason to hate him beyond “there’s that drunk asshole.”

The trip to the store isn’t actually quick, and the selection isn’t great. Not that Hank knows what he’s looking for, really, but not this: a couple of notebooks with obnoxiously shiny covers. Gel pens in a bunch of different colors!! Okay, that takes Hank back.

...And that’s it. Along with some oddly scented pencils and a set of erasers shaped as an assortment of animals, that’s about all Hank finds. Which is disappointing, but he figured as much.

His ride back on the trolley seems shorter, somehow. Probably because he feels like a disappointment. But regardless! He got Connor gel pens!

When Hank gets back to the apartment, he sets the bag on the coffee table.

Sumo is patiently awaiting by his bowl for his very much deserved steak!!]

[Connor takes the time to not only to cook, but to think through his situation. He's now enemy number one for quite a few people and, while not extraordinarily well liked in Detroit, it's not the scrappy friendships that are built when one is trying to survive.

Ithaqua would likely kill him on sight.

Robert hates him.

And Catdog is probably the most regrettable of the losses. They were sort of partners in crime, with Connor providing him with rations whenever possible.

Now it's all gone.

Hank may be his only friend left in the city.

And for a brand new person with feelings and thoughts of his own, it's akin to scrambling around for someone to grab while drowning. He doesn't want Hank to drown with him.

As Hank returns, Connor is cutting a piece of the steak for Sumo, depositing it in the bowl, before plating Hank's dinner. It's a simple set up: ribeye with buttered asparagus, mashed potatoes, and something new he's learned: chimchurri. The whole plate is bright, the colors balanced, and hopefully tasty.]

Food's ready. [And then Connor settles in the seat across from Hank's.]

Smells good, Connor. [It still feels weird to have someone cook for him — plating the food up, even.

But it’s Connor, so it’s okay. Because Hank knows he’s exploring his interests.

Still...]

You spoil me, y’know. Thought you were gonna make a steak, and here’s this whole ass meal.

[He remembers Connor wanting to try some whiskey. But maybe he forgot — does Connor forget anything?? — so Hank doesn’t mention it.]

[Connor enjoys it at least and there's no need for him to eat as well, so it makes portions easy.]

I thought a steak alone would not be enough to eat.

[And there's no whiskey, so,] Did you get whiskey for me to try?

[It's a double-edged sword: having whiskey in the apartment. Yes, Connor could try it, but then there would be the rest of the bottle for Hank to sample at his leisure.]

I didn’t.

[Hank shoves a forkful of steak in his mouth so he doesn’t say anything stupid.

He could cave. Hank could so easily cave — but should he? Yes, it’s what Connor wants. But what if it hurts him? What is Hank supposed to do then?

Like he told Connor earlier, though: better to try it with someone else rather than alone.

Hank doesn’t want to come home and see Connor... well, in the sort of state that Connor’s seen him in.]

He finishes chewing. Sighs.]

What would we do if you got hurt, Connor? What would I do?

I can taste substances in the field. I shouldn't be hurt.

[All that blood he's been sampling is probably not the best example to use.]

How is your meal?

[Glossing right over the question of what they would do if Connor got hurt.]

[Hank squints at him. Bits of asparagus stuck to the corner of his mouth.]

So you’re... what? Gonna have a single sip? Not gonna chug the whole bottle?

[Like how Hank does. And he looks down at his plate guiltily: all the food. The arrangement of it. Hank would just pile everything onto a plate and call it a day.]

It’s good, Connor. Real good. Thank you.

I have no need to drink more than a sip.

[He's not sure how he would even have that much whiskey.]

Good. I'm glad you like it. I especially liked the bright green of the asparagus.

Hmm. You like green, huh? Bright green?

[He wishes Connor could taste it the way he does, especially with all the effort he puts into cooking.]

You wanna do your little test thing? Figure out its... I dunno, makeup? Salt content?

[As for the whiskey — surely a sip wouldn’t hurt? Just one sip? The guy licks all manner of weird shit from the floor, for fuck’s sake.]

If you promise me it’ll just be a sip, we can figure out the booze thing, Con.

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cn: mention of Cole

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I asked the mods, and Hank can get better stuff from Aurora 😎 heh heh

perf

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