[It's lucky for Hank that the noise he makes there isn't actually a laugh. The starving little remains of his self respect probably couldn't have survived laughing at something like that, not today.]

What, you think- we plug strategy B into scenario A and get outcome C, that's how life plays out in those fucking circuits of yours? Everything's got some preprogrammed sequence, some way it's supposed to go?

[He huffs, shakes his head, grabs at his bottle just to wrap his hand around it. He can't tell if that anger's come back or not; he still just sounds tired.]

Androids, I swear to fuck.