[Hank ducks his head a little, watching the guy as he talks and realizing where the shit going on in his head, the assumption that he wouldn't want Hank working on anything after all, came from. He wonders, for a second, how to explain but there's a difference between someone seeing you lose your shit and your dignity and taking way too long to get it together because you just can't help it, and another thing to make the decision to tell someone, 'yeah, I was pretty sure I never belonged here in the first place and maybe or maybe not playing a part in a whole city of people getting torn apart didn't exactly help'. It's... It's just as obviously disconnected from the actual project he's being asked to help with as the fact that he's a cop, and sounds twice as pathetic. Just thinking about explaining out loud makes him feel raw.
Luckily he doesn't seem to want an answer to that first question so Hank doesn't give one, just shrugs and tries a smile.]
Sumo'd never make it in the force. He'd be more likely to try and save a guy than help me arrest him.
[As distractions go, it's not a bad one; Hank watches his dog, some of the strain in his smile starting to melt away. He finds himself adding more than he meant to.]
That's why I got him, actually. There were a couple of K9s up for retirement around the same time and someone offered me one, but uh- [He shakes his head.] -this guy seemed like a better fit.
...Anyway, uh. Barrels. I heard there's nymphs and shit, or whatever you call the ones in the trees. If you know anyone who's good at sweet talking, you might wanna rope them into this to make sure we don't get killed trying to just get wood.
no subject
[Hank ducks his head a little, watching the guy as he talks and realizing where the shit going on in his head, the assumption that he wouldn't want Hank working on anything after all, came from. He wonders, for a second, how to explain but there's a difference between someone seeing you lose your shit and your dignity and taking way too long to get it together because you just can't help it, and another thing to make the decision to tell someone, 'yeah, I was pretty sure I never belonged here in the first place and maybe or maybe not playing a part in a whole city of people getting torn apart didn't exactly help'. It's... It's just as obviously disconnected from the actual project he's being asked to help with as the fact that he's a cop, and sounds twice as pathetic. Just thinking about explaining out loud makes him feel raw.
Luckily he doesn't seem to want an answer to that first question so Hank doesn't give one, just shrugs and tries a smile.]
Sumo'd never make it in the force. He'd be more likely to try and save a guy than help me arrest him.
[As distractions go, it's not a bad one; Hank watches his dog, some of the strain in his smile starting to melt away. He finds himself adding more than he meant to.]
That's why I got him, actually. There were a couple of K9s up for retirement around the same time and someone offered me one, but uh- [He shakes his head.] -this guy seemed like a better fit.
...Anyway, uh. Barrels. I heard there's nymphs and shit, or whatever you call the ones in the trees. If you know anyone who's good at sweet talking, you might wanna rope them into this to make sure we don't get killed trying to just get wood.