[Hank wants to be a contrary little shit, because he’s old and he’s been through hell, but — Connor’s been through worse hell. And Connor is still going through that hell.
...And Hank is making it worse.]
You miss Detroit, huh? [He sucks in a breath, and it’s starting to finally feel like actual air in his lungs. Not some heavy bullshit trying to suffocate him.] I missed you too, Connor.
[He wouldn’t be here on the cusp of hyperventilating if he didn’t. And Hank can’t help but laugh shakily now: at how pathetic he is. How he’s wasting his time, their time, when he could be — at the very least — holding himself together. For Connor.
Hank slowly starts to sit up. Turning to Connor: clenching the front of his shirt now, mindful of where he’s hurt. Hank may be distressed, but he remembers that.]
Re: cn: panic attack ðŸ˜
[Hank wants to be a contrary little shit, because he’s old and he’s been through hell, but — Connor’s been through worse hell. And Connor is still going through that hell.
...And Hank is making it worse.]
You miss Detroit, huh? [He sucks in a breath, and it’s starting to finally feel like actual air in his lungs. Not some heavy bullshit trying to suffocate him.] I missed you too, Connor.
[He wouldn’t be here on the cusp of hyperventilating if he didn’t. And Hank can’t help but laugh shakily now: at how pathetic he is. How he’s wasting his time, their time, when he could be — at the very least — holding himself together. For Connor.
Hank slowly starts to sit up. Turning to Connor: clenching the front of his shirt now, mindful of where he’s hurt. Hank may be distressed, but he remembers that.]
You really are here, aren’t you?