Connor: An RK800

It was not the first time, nor would it be the last, that the door had swung open to a ringing silence. It was a familiar hush, in it's own ominous way, somehow synonymous with Hank in a manner Connor wished it wasn't. Ever the threat that the silence would persist, that it might signal the worst. Broken only by the first step over the threshold, and the heavy pad of paws, the half-hearted huff of a bark dying in the dogs throat as he rounded the corner. Connor faltered a beat, though Sumo merely nosed at his leg; it was always struck him as curious that the dog had never registered him a threat. 

A cautious hand slid into coarse fur, mimicking the gentle scratching motion he'd noted Hank perform. It seemed to do the trick; Sumo slunk into the dark, soothed, leaving Connor to listen hard. 

"Lieutenant?" 

Nothing, but a dull flicker seeping through the crack in a door at the end of the hall. It came as no surprise to find Hank sprawled across the sofa, illuminated by the muted screen. The steady rise and fall of his chest was a reassurance, though the bottle perched precariously on the edge of the sofa was not. 

"You know..."

Connor had spent a blank minute analysing the styrofoam cup Hank had been nursing, brows pulled together in uneasy contemplation before letting loose; the tone ought to have been familiar to the lieutenant by then. Upbeat, even in the delivery of joyless counsel, the sincerest of attempts to volunteer practical guidance as Connor was capable of. 

"...in one study, 75% of American's were found to be chronically dehydrated. Although many consume enough to hydrate themselves throughout the day, the benefits of adequate water intake are often offset by the excessive consumption of caffeine, alcohol, and sodium."