I don’t think she hates us. I think she’s probably- probably just dumb.

[He says it while the other guy stands, watching him, and then snorts. The fond tone turns what might have ticked Hank off into something that warms him instead, a little, warms up his voice too, and a corner of his lips curls up.]

Few years too late for that.

[Hank glances from the guy’s face to the hands held out toward him, his half-smile fading.]

Maybe I didn’t explain earlier, I wasn’t, uh, wasn’t making a lot of sense. But um, touching me, probably not, uh, great for you, today. Or, you know.

[He shrugs, pulling a face. Or, you know, ever. It’s probably smarter to just say it, make sure the guy knows.]