[It takes him a minute to follow what the hell the guy means. It even takes him a minute to realize that the sky's not supposed to do that, shit he's far gone. He takes another minute just to stare at it, watching the rain and trying to process it, trying to breathe.]

You- you got your own- your own little- raincloud. Fuck.

[This try at laughing doesn't go any better than Hank's last one, but everything's just coming out whenever it wants right now so that part of it, at least, he doesn't try to stop.]

God, what a- a fucking shitshow.

[Then, once he finally looks away from the sky, he sees the hand on his shoulder. A sharp shock of horror slides through him riding on an oily stain of self disgust and then Hank jerks away, trying to break the connection, falling back on his ass and the fist that was over his mouth spreads itself across his face.]

Fuck. Fuck. That was- me. God damn it. That was- fuck, I'm sorry. Shit.