[Connor resists the sudden urge to scrub a hand across his face — learned gesture, very human, useless, having no real place in this moment.
He latches on to Hank’s word’s, wanting to believe them and experiencing something strangely, frustratingly dissatisfying upon hearing them. An unease that runs deep along the grooves of something that’s been carved into him, after all this time.]
...it will take a moment to fully recover. But thank you, Lieutenant.
[For saying he’ll be fine. Let him pivot around that notion for as long as it’ll hold his weight. Slough off uncertainty.
Silence. Then he offers, maybe uselessly—]
Your... sense of touch will return, in time. It’s already happening to those experiencing similar problems here.
no subject
He latches on to Hank’s word’s, wanting to believe them and experiencing something strangely, frustratingly dissatisfying upon hearing them. An unease that runs deep along the grooves of something that’s been carved into him, after all this time.]
...it will take a moment to fully recover. But thank you, Lieutenant.
[For saying he’ll be fine. Let him pivot around that notion for as long as it’ll hold his weight. Slough off uncertainty.
Silence. Then he offers, maybe uselessly—]
Your... sense of touch will return, in time. It’s already happening to those experiencing similar problems here.