[Hank's getting better at weird concoctions of thoughts. Being in a place of magical monsters that he knows to be fake does that. But seeing people reunited this weekend? Maybe he just hoped... What the fuck is even wrong with him.]
[Hank grunts into his glass before putting it off to the side, a soft 'mm'. Once he's put it down, he shakes that finger in thought. The whiskey, at least, somewhat loosened his thoughts. And his lips.]
I know you call me Gramps, but I never made it there. I uh.. I didn't even get to be a dad until I was fuckin' forty-four. You know, the same age where most guys are sending their kids to high school. [He licks his lips, bites his lower lip, and looks down at one of the papers.]
But he was a good kid. He was smart. Funny. Even after my fuckin' wife fucked off, I had this great kid for family and that's all I needed, you know? I was a dad. And then he was six years old. And there was a truck and an icy road... Well, that was just a few years ago. And every time one of these fuckin' things roll around, I keep hoping I'll get the fucking chance to hug him one last time and tell him what a good kid he is. [Was. What a good kid he was.]
Don't tell Connor. I don't want him to fuckin' deal with it. [He waves off to the side, in the general direction that Connor generally currently is not.] He's probably already sick of dealing with this shit from me. [He takes another drink.] I try not to let him see it anymore.
no subject
[Hank grunts into his glass before putting it off to the side, a soft 'mm'. Once he's put it down, he shakes that finger in thought. The whiskey, at least, somewhat loosened his thoughts. And his lips.]
I know you call me Gramps, but I never made it there. I uh.. I didn't even get to be a dad until I was fuckin' forty-four. You know, the same age where most guys are sending their kids to high school. [He licks his lips, bites his lower lip, and looks down at one of the papers.]
But he was a good kid. He was smart. Funny. Even after my fuckin' wife fucked off, I had this great kid for family and that's all I needed, you know? I was a dad. And then he was six years old. And there was a truck and an icy road... Well, that was just a few years ago. And every time one of these fuckin' things roll around, I keep hoping I'll get the fucking chance to hug him one last time and tell him what a good kid he is. [Was. What a good kid he was.]
Don't tell Connor. I don't want him to fuckin' deal with it. [He waves off to the side, in the general direction that Connor generally currently is not.] He's probably already sick of dealing with this shit from me. [He takes another drink.] I try not to let him see it anymore.