Rye let out a small sigh as she woke up, part of her just wanting to wrap herself into a little burrito with the blankets, and stay like that for the rest of the day. But Hank apparently had a whole day planned out for them, and as nice as doing nothing in bed sounded, she really didn't feel like making Hank waste his time. He could get a bit moody, for lack of a better word, when his free time didn't go how he wanted it to.

Yawning slightly as she got out of bed, Rye only then noticed the distinct lack of Hank on the other side of the bed. Usually Hank inadvertently woke his bedfellow with how fast and abruptly he left the bed and got started with his morning routine. There had only been a few times when Rye was too tired and deep into her sleep to wake up from Hank's departure from the bed. But it seemed this time, Hank didn't want to wake her.

Well, she'd find out what sort of surprise he had for her after her shower. Heading into the bathroom, Rye looked at the bathtub, before she grinned and shrugged. If Hank was going to make a whole day for them, she figured she could indulge herself in a quick bath. Nothing too fancy, especially since she didn't want to keep Hank waiting too long. Just a nice relaxing soak to start off the day.

Heading to the kitchen, hair still slightly damp, Rye was caught off guard when she smelled food. Usually when Hank tried to cook, it ended with burnt or undercooked messes that usually when down his gullet instead of the trash, because Hank was weirdly mindful of food waste. Entering the room, Rye stopped in shock, seeing actual food on plates. Sure, it was mainly basic food, bacon, omelettes with the fillings peeking out in various places, and assorted fruits. For anyone else, it would look like an ordinary breakfast, but for Rye, who knew about Hank's strange struggles with anything food related that wasn't eating, it was enough to show that this was a special day.

Rye looked to Hank, the man sitting down, tapping a foot against the floor repeatedly. The man breathed in deeply, before letting the breath out slowly. "Hank?"

The man snapped his head to look at the bartender. "Oh, hey. You're up. Good. Uh, look, I know that I'm not exactly a five star chef, but with how much you're usually the one that makes us stuff, I wanted to pay you back for that. It's probably not pretty, hell it might not even be good, but, just humor me."

"Uh, yeah. Of course." Taking a seat next to Hank, looking at the breakfast in front of her. Deciding to pick an omelette that looked mostly intact, bacon that looked less burnt than the others, and some orange slices that Rye was pretty sure Hank had just cut up. Taking a bite from the omelette, Rye found it filled with cheese and bits of bacon, and it was surprisingly decently made. After eating half of her food without any words, the bartender realized that Hank was staring at her. Rye was confused for a second, then figured he would probably like to hear what she actually thought of the food. Swallowing her current mouthful, Rye spoke up. "Yeah, it's kinda good."

Hank let out a breath, and began loading his own plate. "Good. Didn't want to fuck up at the starting line."

The rest of the breakfast was mostly filled with silence, the kind that was there, and it would let things be taken at their own pace. It was a nice change from Rye's usual constant need to worry over something, be it her job, her financial situation, or something else. She really wouldn't mind if more days were like this.

The park, which really consisted of an acre of land that had somehow remained untouched during all of the reality breaking shit that had started when the Sheriff had turned on the Improbability Drive, was surprisingly nice to walk through, with a couple of dirt paths and trees scattered around. Hank breathed in deeply, taking in the smell of grass and plant life around him. It wasn't really all that great, but it was better than the dead smell that most of Nevada gave off. The cities and towns were better, with business and whatever else they had, but it wasn't much of an improvement.

As the pair sat down at a bench, the sounds of wind rustling through the grass and leaves, Hank glanced over to Rye, noticing the slight frown on her face. Letting out a sigh, he asked, "What's up? Feeling funny?"

Rye shook her head, still frowning. "Nah. Just wondering. Do you ever think about that day?"

It didn't take a genius to understand what she meant, and Hank let out a small huff. "Sometimes. Mostly I wonder how it looked like from someone just watching that whole thing. I mean, Jesus pulled out an entire cannon."

"Do you think you'd do it again, if you had the chance to change anything?"

It was a question Hank had asked himself a few times. And every time, the answer stayed the same, "Probably. I don't know if I can ever really change myself enough to be a different person. I definitely won't care about random strangers enough to hold back from killing them in a fight." It probably wasn't the answer that Rye wanted to hear, but Hank didn't like lying to her when it came to things like this. It would probably make her think he was a better person than he really could ever hope to be, and he made sure to keep expectations low when it didn't come to killing and breaking things.

Rye made a small humming sound, her expression turning to a more neutral state. "How about taking the job to kill the Sheriff?"

Hank instinctively rubbed the back of his head, remembering the times Jesus had snuck up behind him and fucked him over. Thankfully Doc had been patching him up, even from the early days. "Okay, that one might have been a bit of a mistake. Not because of the whole Improbability Drive, but mostly because I had to take a bullet to the head, and a sword to the back. Fucking prick..."

Rye let out a little giggle, and Hank wished he could tell her to shut it. Well, he could, but he liked hearing her laugh. Standing up, Rye smiled. "Alright, so, what's after this?"

If Hank could give a shit-eating grin, he'd do it with malicious intent.

The fancy place that Sanford had told him about actually had terrible service, with nobody coming along to even get them drinks for a solid half hour. And then another half hour of sitting there with finished drinks, nobody even stopping by to ask if they needed refills. At that point, Rye could feel her patience starting to run thin, and she was pretty sure Hank was reaching for some weapon he likely kept in case of this exact situation.

Letting out a sigh, Rye made a suggestion. "Hey, wanna just leave and see if we can't find a hotdog stand or something? This place kinda sucks."

Hank stopped reaching for whatever it was he was going to kill everyone there with, and seemed to think about the offer. "Y'know, I would normally say 'after I kill everyone here', but I just want to get the fuck out of here. Let's go." The man got up, and started walking away.

Normally, Rye would tell him to at least pay for the drinks. But this place had left them just sitting for an hour, and at this point the bartender couldn't really give a shit. "Yep." On the way out the door, Rye could hear someone calling out for her, and her response was to raise her hand, flipping them off with no regret.

After walking for a few minutes, the pair found a hotdog stand, and began eating the cheap food. As the psychopath finished his, he threw the trash over his shoulder, and let out a small sigh. "Look, I'm sorry that the place wasn't really all that good. Sanford suggested it, and I trust his judgment more than Deimos' or my own when it comes to nice places."

Rye gave a shrug. "Eh, sometimes places just have bad days. Granted, I'm not really gonna give them a second chance for at least a month, but maybe once I'm done being bitter about sitting there for an hour with drinks being the only thing they actually managed to get to us, I'll give them another go."

"Damn, that's more generous than what I'd do. Sure, I'd have to make sure they don't know how to link the arson to me, considering I already have a rap sheet long enough for like ten people."

Rye let out a laugh. "Let me know if you ever need help with burning things. I have some decent experience."

Hank chuckled. "I'll make sure to call." Hank pulled out his communicator for a second, noting the time. "Hey, there's that theater like five minutes away. Wanna see if there's anything worth watching?"

"Sure, I could go for some dumb fun right about now."

As it turned out, there was exactly one movie that had caught Hank's eye. A horror movie remake that seemed to rely on nostalgia for the original, and focusing much more heavily on the gore and effects than anything else. Perfect for a man whose definition of a good time is beating people to death with various objects. Grabbing a large bag of popcorn that some idiot had left unattended, Hank settled into a seat in the front row, Rye seating herself next to him.

The movie didn't really have that good of a story, with cardboard cutouts as characters that didn't really have any personality aside from one aspect. But Hank was never the kind of guy to care much for any of that. He wanted to see blood and gore, and he wanted it to look as authentic as possible. Twenty minutes into the movie, when things started going wrong for the characters, and the horrible mutant abomination started ripping the idiots to pieces, Hank glanced over to Rye, only just noticing the way she was shaking. The psycho would have frowned, and quietly nudged her, earning a small squeak from his companion. "Damn, Rye are you okay? You need to step out or something?"

Rye let out a shaky laugh, shaking her head. "N-nah, I'm fine. Just not really u-used to seeing movies like this. Usually I just read some trashy book I c-can sit down and-" Rye was interrupted by a loud roaring screech from the mutant leaping out of the shadows onto an unsuspecting victim. The bartender let out another small squeak.

Hank let out a sigh, and wrapped his arm around Rye's shoulders, pulling her close. "Y'know, you could've said something, maybe even say you wanted to watch that romcom."

Rye gave a pout, but made no move to get out of Hank's hold. "But those are terrible. And not even the fun kind of bad that you can make fun of. Like, actually torture level of bad."

Hank raised a brow. "Worse than this?"

Rye smirked, and fluttered her eyes. "You wouldn't hold me like this if we were watching a shitty romcom."

Hank started sputtering, blushing heavily, before settling on a simple, "Shut up."

He still kept her close.

After the movie, Hank asked if Rye had any dresses available, something that she would wear to a fancy restaurant that had a dress code. Unsure where the question was leading, the bartender confirmed that, yes, she did in fact have a nice dress that she kept for special occasions. Hank let out a small breath, then nodded a couple of times. "Alright, let's head home and get ready."

That set off alarms bells all throughout Rye's mind. "Ready? Ready for what?! Hank?!" The chuckle that Hank responded with did nothing to calm her fears.

These fears were completely warranted, in the bartender's honest opinion once she saw Hank in a form-fitting suit. The scariest part was the fact that he didn't look all that bad in the suit, although he kept his goggles and mask. "So, I managed to threaten a place to get a reservation, and we have half an hour to get there." That information shirt-circuited Rye's brain, and she could only look at Hank with her mouth agape.

"Huh?" It was honestly the only thing she could articulate.

"Dinner, fancy place. Just the two of us." The way Hank said it, made it seem like it was the part of the day that had been the hardest to manage.

"I-" Rye wasn't sure what she could say at this point, other than a simple, "Okay."

The restaurant that Hank had managed to get reservations to, was a place that had a good reputation. The exact kind of place that people tried their best to pretend that things weren't broken all around them, that things were still normal. The exact kind of place that wouldn't stand a chance in hell if Hank decided to have some fun and slaughter everyone there. As the greeter saw the pair, he gulped, and quickly led them to their table.

The atmosphere was calming, and put Rye at ease. However, looking at Hank, the bartender could tell that he wasn't exactly in his element at the moment, constantly glancing around at the other customers. Gently tapping against the table, Rye turned Hank's attention to her. "Hey, keep your eyes on me. It's just us tonight. No Agency to barge into the place and ruin everything. No Fenrir coming in to warn you about anything at the last minute. Just us, and the time we're spending together."

Hank took in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "Yeah, yeah I can do that. Just us. You and me. Yeah." As he spoke, the tension in Hank's body slowly bled out.

Rye smiled, and held out her hand across the table. "That's it. It's our night." The bartender could see that the psychopath was blushing above his mask. Despite his embarrassment, he still reached out and grabbed her hand, grumbling under his breath.

Rye gave a reassuring squeeze to Hank, grinning brightly. "See? Not so bad when you're not paying attention to everyone." The man nodded, looking much more at ease. "So, do you want red or white wine?"

"White. I'll be seeing enough red by tomorrow."

Rye let out a exaggerated gasp of shock. "A joke? My, you're very relaxed when you pay attention to me."

Hank let out a soft snicker. "Only when it's the two of us. I have an image to protect around the others."

The rest of the dinner went well, with Hank only being confused for a few moments whenever the food was presented, the man being so used to shitty hotdogs, comfort food from the bar, and whatever shitty rations the could steal from the Agency. He never really thought that food could look nice in a way other than appetizing. Throughout the dinner, the two made little flirty comments about each other, causing cause faces to go red and tongues to be tied.

At the end, the pair had gone through multiple glasses of wine, resulting in Hank feeling a bit lightheaded as he walked, and Rye to giggle randomly at points. Thankfully it wasn't too long of a walk home, and the two made their way to Hank's room, the man doing his best to carefully remove his clothes, on the chance that he would be able to head out for fancy places with Rye in the future.

Turning to the bed, he found Rye already there, smirking at him. "Hey, Hank, give me your hand real quick."

"Uh, sure, what the-" Bringing his arm out for her, Hank was interrupted when the bartender grabbed him by the hand, and pulled him onto the bed, almost flopping right on top of her. "Rye, what-"

Again, Hank was interrupted, this time by Rye's voice. "Hank~." Looking down at the woman, Hank saw the seductive look on her face, eyes half lidded, and softly biting at her lower lip.

Hank's eyes shot wide open. Oh. Gulping, Hank asked, "Rye, are you sure about this?"

"Hank."

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

Hank let out a small chuckle. "Yes ma'am..."