Hank's home was familiar. And while Hank hadn't been exaggerating by much about it being a mess, it was an oddly comfortable kind of mess, because it was very...Hank. It was messy like his desk, and messy like the man himself.

"I'm at home and I ain't wearing pants anymore. You'd better be ok with that," Hank said as he headed towards his bedroom.

"Please, make yourself comfortable."

"I'm in my own fucking house. Trust me, I will," Hank yelled over his shoulder, then went into his bedroom and shut the door.

"Would you like me to take Sumo for a walk while you change and make yourself something to eat?" Connor yelled out to him.

"Knock yourself out!" Hank yelled back, his voice sounding slightly muffled, as if he were in the middle of taking off his shirt.

"Sumo, would you like to go for a walk?" Connor asked, and as soon as he said "walk," Sumo's tail started thumping.

"Now, where is your leash," Connor mused, looking around. He was about to scan for it when Sumo lumbered up to his feet, and beelined for where his leash was. He came back a moment later with it between his teeth, and dropped it at Connor's feet.

"Good boy. Hank has you well trained," Connor said, and gave he dog a scratch. He was rewarded with Sumo's wagging his tail and trying to lick his hands. Then Sumo sat down and tilted his neck slightly, so Connor could attach the leash to his collar. "You're a smart boy. Let's go. Hank, we're leaving. I'm taking your house keys. We'll be back soon!"

A muffled "Whatever" floated out to him, and Connor lightly tugged on the collar to get Sumo to get him to stand back up, then headed out.

It was a nice night out. Connor let Sumo lead, since the dog seemed to have a route in mind, and Connor appreciated not having to make any decisions. It was easy to simply not think about what had happened that day, and simply focus on Sumo happily snuffling along and sniffing everything in his path.

They had walked for about twenty minutes when Sumo turned back towards home. By the time they returned to Hank's house, Hank had changed clothes and nearly finished cooking himself dinner.

Sumo headed straight towards his food and water dishes once Connor had removed his leash. Connor put the leash back, and went to sit down at the kitchen table.

A quick scan told him that Hank's dinner was a simple vegetable stir fry.

"I'm glad to see you eating something that is better for you than what you normally eat."

He didn't need to see Hank to know the man had rolled his eyes. "I eat vegetables. Sometimes."

"I think you should eat them more often."

"Yes, mom," he said, transferring his stir-fry onto a plate and carrying it over to the kitchen table. After he sat it down, he headed over to the refrigerator and took out a can of soda.

"And drink more water."

"Oh, for..." Hank grumbled, then took the soda back to the refrigerator and put it back. He got a glass from his cabinet and filled it with ice water. "Better?"

Another scan found traces of whiskey around Hank's mouth.

"Yes."

Hank sat down and started eating.

[ASK ABOUT HIS DRINKING]

[ASK ABOUT RUSSIAN ROULETTE]

[ASK ABOUT SOMETHING ELSE]

"Hank, before, at the precinct, you said it was 'creepy' how I 'turned on a dime.' What did you mean?"

Hank blinked, frowning slightly as he tried to recall what Connor was talking about. A moment of recognition flashed across his his, and he finished chewing and swallowed. "That thing you do. You did it in that first interrogation. One minute you were screaming '28 times!' in that android's face, and the next you were his best friend. Today you went from looking like you wanted to set something on fire to looking like someone's mom kissing their boo-boo better."

None of what Hank had just said made any kind of sense, and Connor decided not to focus on it, and instead explain his approach protocols.

"It is a part of my interrogation approach protocols. They are a set of actions and reactions trained on a dataset of successful police interrogations. It is designed to allow me to switch seamlessly from one approach protocol to another."

"Yeah, they fucked up the 'seamless' part." Hank said with a snort, before eating another forkful of food. "It's more like 'schizophrenically switch between two different personalities.'"

"Hank, that analogy doesn't make sense. schizophrenia had nothing to do with multiple personalities, and there's still debate as to if DID actually even exists," Connor said with a confused frown.

Hank rolled his eyes. "You're being both bad cop and good cop with no transition. Humans transition. When you don't, it's fucking weird."

"...ah," Connor said. "I will try to keep that in mind."

"So why on earth did you do that today in Jeffrey's office? You weren't exactly in an interrogation."

Connor opened his mouth, then closed it again. Then, "I am still learning how to...process...many of the side effects to being a deviant. Sometimes it is easier to fall back on my programming when I feel...less than successful at it."

"Side effects being...?"

"Feelings, lieutenant. I am not designed to process feelings. They still register as 'deviancy' and 'program instabilities' to me. I was not designed for this," he repeated, more emphatically. "The protocols help me navigate when I can't trust my own deviant responses."

Hank put his fork down. "Ok, first thing, don't fucking call me 'lieutenant' when I'm sitting around in my underwear in my own house and we're in the middle of a heart-to-heart. Second, your emotions are real and you're eventually gonna have to figure them out. Third, I get it, it's a coping mechanism. But eventually, your gonna have to sort your shit, Connor. You can't depend on them forever. Fuck, look at me. I'm exactly what you don't wanna be. I'm a cautionary tale. Sort your emotional shit or end up a drunk with no friends."

"We're friends," Connor said, but suddenly unsure. "Or at least, I thought...?"

Something in Hank's posture and eyes softened. "Yeah, Connor. We're friends. And don't let anyone tell you different, not even that little doubt thing you just had happen in your head. I'm just too used to...not having anyone to give a shit about me. Or that I gave a shit about. Gotta get back in the swing of things," he muttered, looking down at his food before picking his fork up again almost studiously getting another forkful to eat.

Connor hesitated.

[ASK ABOUT HIS DRINKING]

[ASK ABOUT RUSSIAN ROULETTE]

[RECIPROCATE FEELINGS]

"Lieutenant...Hank. Are you still playing Russian roulette?"

His thirium pump was pumping faster, almost as if his thirium pump regulator were malfunctioning.

[RUN DIAGNOSTIC ON BIOCOMPONENT #8456w]

[BIOCOMPONENT #8456w FUNCTIONING WITHIN NORMAL PARAMETERS]

Hank gave a heavy sigh. "No. There are days when the urge is there, but...no. You don't have to worry about that anymore."

[BUT I STILL WORRY]

[ASK ABOUT HIS DRINKING]

[RECIPROCATE FEELINGS OF FRIENDSHIP]

[CHANGE TOPIC]

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, as he reconsidered his conversation dialogue choice.

His thirium pump was still beating too fast.

"Chris told me recently that you have been coming in to work at more regular hours. Does that mean you're not spending as much time at Jimmy's bar?"

"That's one way to ask if I'm still drinking myself into an early grave," Hank said heavily.

Now he was certain his thirium pump regulator was malfunctioning, because it felt like his thirium pump had stopped beating for a beat.

[RUN FULL DIAGNOSTIC ON BIOCOMPONENT #8456w]

[RUNNING PRIMARY CHECKS]

[RUNNING SECONDARY CHECKS]

[BIOCOMPONENT #8456w FUNCTIONING WITHIN NORMAL PARAMETERS]

"Connor...as nice as it would be, you don't just go from semi-alcoholic to not."

[I'm not sure if you were just 'semi'.]

"I think you should stop drinking."

"Yeah, you told me that before. I'm not exactly AA material."

"AA is not the best program for combating addictions. There are many routes that would work better for you."

"Connor..." Hank said, then trailed off. He sighed, then got up and put his empty dishes in the sink. He came back to the table, and sat down heavily. "I'm doing better," Hank said, but wouldn't make eye contact. "I've cut back. But," he said, and finally looked up. "You don't just stop bad coping methods when you realize they're bad. It takes time."

[BUT I STILL WORRY]

[CHANGE TOPIC]

"I worry about you."

Hank rubbed his face. "Yeah, still not used to that. That mother henning thing you do. But...shit," he let out, sounding frustrated. "Look, can we please talk about something else now?"

[CHANGE TOPIC]

"I was...glad that Captain Fowler was willing to help me today."

Hank looked relieved to be talking about something else. "When?"

"When he offered to give me the crime stat data if I needed it to try to convince Markus to reinstate my access privileges. I would not have been able to use it for my work for the DPD, but he was still willing to give it to me. It was a surprise."

Hank's eyebrows raised. "Why? Your having it means you can keep on top of keeping the crime level down around Android Town. Even if it wasn't a DPD thing you were doing, you were keeping the area safe. Why wouldn't he want to help you with that? And you're one of the force; why wouldn't he have your back?"

"The leaders of Jericho didn't want to help me," Connor said, and felt another jolt in his thirium pump.

[RUN DIAGNOSTIC CHECK ON DIAGNOSTIC PROGRAMS]

[DIAGNOSTICS FUNCTIONING WITHIN NORMAL PARAMETERS]

"Kid, let me tell you something. You're a cop. Every other cop will back you up when you need it. Even fucking Gavin."

Connor frowned. "But he hates me."

"Oh, he hates the shit outta you. If you were on fire, he wouldn't piss on you to put you out."

"He would probably be the one who set me on fire, Hank."

"Yeah, well. He hates you because he's a dick who hates androids. He'd probably shoot you in the back if he thought he could get away with it. If someone where hassling you for being an android, he'd join right on in. But if someone were hassling you for being a cop, he'd have your back. Cops circle the wagons around our own. He'll give you shit and a half and dick wave to assert his dominance in the bullpen, but watch him circle the wagons if someone outside the force gives you shit for being a cop."

Connor began trying to process that, then finally said, "Humans are very complex."

Hank shrugged. "Human nature. In group vs out group. You're out-group as an android, but in-group as a cop. It ain't that much different from you flipping 'approach protocols'."

Connor added that to his programming to help him better train his group-intergration heuristics.

"I will keep that in mind. But you'll have to forgive me if I'm skeptical of Detective Reed ever 'having my back'."

"Yeah, don't blame you," Hank said with a lopsided grin. "He's just as likely to stab you and me both in the back as have it. But test it, let it slip Markus screwed you during this investigation. Bet you money it's your side he'd be on. Go on, test your lab human."

"Maybe," Connor said, and in the background, Sumo huffed.