Kids, huh? Pretty fucked up that even kids are getting dragged into this mess.

[Hank has met some of them, but maybe not any of Connor’s friends. Probably.

And despite how weird the situation is, Hank is... relieved. There’s uncertainty, too: worry and caution and the dizzying, small sensation of feeling like a puppet, strung up here on this odd world. Made to play the part without really having a script.

But Hank trusts Connor’s judgment. So when Connor says he has friends here, it feels almost hopeful.]

I’m glad. That you’ve made friends. That’s great, Con. Really great.

[Because Hank is thinking about how new Connor was back home, how he didn’t really get the chance to make friends — and, hell, Hank wasn’t helpful on that front when they first met. He was a colossal asshole, in fact.]

I know there’ve been, uh, incidents. But you seem... I dunno. Well-adjusted.

[Far more adjusted than Hank would be if he were alone. Far more adjusted than he’ll be when he and Connor part ways again and Hank is left alone with his thoughts on this wacky world.

But it still feels like a messed up thing to say. By way of apology, he rambles on:]

I mean — you know what I’m trying to say, don’t you?

[He waves over one of the robots to get his leftovers wrapped up, because Hank is not going to waste this perfectly fine burger just because his stomach is twisting in knots.]

Proud of you, is all.

[Then, after clearing his throat:]

Good that I don’t have to beat anyone up. Or give them the middle finger. Yet, anyway. Let’s try to keep it that way, yeah?