Jesus Christ. [Hank rubs his forehead. Cursed knowledge, but again: he asked.] Don’t you go telling anyone else this, okay?

[Not that Hank can imagine anyone here wanting to hurt Connor, but if they did, they’d probably try to take advantage of something like that.]

It’s not a command, or anything, just... please.

[Hank holds the second pack of thirium out to Connor, if he might wish to partake.]