[Hank goes still, his eyes narrowing, the concern in his voice filtering into his expression, now. His eyes dart over Connor, watchful, because Connor must be seeing shit, whatever's fucking Hank up must be getting into him too, somehow. The hand that'd been trying to touch Connor spreads its fingers, palm out - no weapons here, not going to touch, everything's fine - and his voice goes slow, measured and, hopefully, reassuring.]
I don't know what you mean, Connor. Do you wanna explain it for me? What emotions? What are you feeling?
no subject
I don't know what you mean, Connor. Do you wanna explain it for me? What emotions? What are you feeling?