[Hank makes an indecisive noise, watching the sky for a moment. It's good to be on solid ground again, it's good to be out of that fucking place, and thinking it brings on a rush of that acrid, nasty feeling, and he's not actually sure if he's got room in him to deal with another round of 'you still don't believe any of this is real? wtf is wrong with you?' with someone with all that other shit taking up space inside him. But that's where this conversation's going and steering around that would take effort. So. Fuck it.]

I'm still not so sure you were. Right, I mean.

[He purses his lips, sighing down at the ground.]

So unless whatever you've gonna put me to work on's really good, I might hold off on thinking you're right all the time. Just, you know, for a little while.