#ltdrunkagain

      “ i mean it, lieutenant. “ he doesn’t really know how to admit that to hank, but he’s trying to. it’s confusing. connor’s still learning much about deviancy. about feeling. about LETTING HIMSELF FEEL the emotions that he feels. he’s been doing a lot of intensive thinking about it. “ i’m okay, “ he replies, relaying his status. “ all systems are functional, hank. i just... have been having these conflicting programming errors, i suppose. it’s something i’m still working out through my code. it’s almost like... “ he pauses. ANALYSIS FOR PERFECT METAPHOR...... located ! 

“ it’s like i’m locked in a box, and when i’m with you, i’m outside of that box and i just see how beautiful the world is. when i’m not around you, i just see four corners of said boring box. you make this run of my software... exciting. “ connor makes a face, unsure if that’s really what he wanted to say. to let go of all those thoughts buzzing around in his coding. finally, he tries to just nod at hank’s topic. “ i think going back to your home is a swell idea. it’s seventeen minutes from the time you need to feed SUMO his food, anyhow. “

  @android-detective: Imagine Sumo Dying

no

@ltdrunkagain 

❛ when it all starts coming undone, you're the only one i run to... ❜

she ,  like  other  humans ,  can  register  if  someone  is  young or  old  with  a  glance ;  tell  if  their  hair  is  sleek  &  shiny  or  ragged  &  unkempt  .  if  their  skin  is  clear  or  acne - ridden  ;  if  their  skin  has  wrinkles  or  none  at  all .  &  yet …  beauty  is  something  she  has  yet  to  understand .  SURE ,  she  says  that  the  new  curtains  look  nice  &   the  receptionist’s  blouse  suits  her ,  but  it’s  only  because  she  knows  those  things  are  what  people  like  to  hear .  BUT  SHE  HAD  NEVER  looked  at  herself  &  thought  herself  …  beautiful .  it  just  … doesn’t  matter  to  her . 

     It had been a while since Connor had visited Hank’s home. His only other visit had been to drag him over to the Eden Club -- this time there was no particular reason. No assigned case, no imperative information that he had to share. It was just concern. Was it really? Connor never really felt anything; at most he wanted to ensure his partner remained mentally capable of handling the investigation. That was logical enough to prompt a visit, right?

     At the front door, Connor rang the doorbell and patiently waited, but there was no answer. He knew that Hank was home, however -- and most likely not passed out this time. At least, he hoped not. Briefly he considered walking around the house to find another way in once again, but a different idea came to mind instead.

           “why are we used to the pain? how many times until we had enough?”

hank texting fowler at work: hey i can’t come in today i got the fuck of my life yesterday and im still recovering ok thx