A Devious Humanity

The Present

In a graceless greeting to the rising sun Hank awoke the next morning with one mother of a hangover, and some rancid breath that was a mixture of whiskey and vomit. He had fallen asleep chest down on his bed and was greeted by a generous puddle of warm drool on the pillow beneath his head. Swearing quietly as he pressed his hand to his throbbing head and slowly pushed himself up from the bed on his opposite arm, Hank admitted he just felt horrible. Stumbling out of the bedroom and into the bathroom just down the hallway, Hank fell heavily to his knees in front of the toilet and began to throw-up what little alcohol was still left in his churning stomach.

Sumo had heard Hank being sick and sympathetically sat in the opened doorway to watch his master as he vomited in the small room. The dog knew better than to be near Hank when he stank of booze and proceeded to sleep on his pillow in the livingroom the previous night.

"...Fuck."

Dragging his arm over his vomit and spit covered chin, Hank pushed himself up from the floor and leaned heavily against the sink. Greedily he filled the drinking glass with water, rinsed out his mouth and spit it back out into the sink.

"...Can't hold my liquor like I used to."

Sumo grumbled from the doorway and made Hank turn to look at him.

"...I'm either getting really old, or Connor really did sober my ass up."

Turning on the shower Hank briefly left the bathroom to grab his phone from the nightstand beside his bed and sent another text to Connor, completely unaware that the now human wouldn't receive the messages. The messages themselves were short, succinct and would remain unread: 'I hope you're okay' and 'Come back home, soon.'

It had become routine for Hank to send messages to Connor and never get a reply. Sadly, he had become used to it.

Stopping by Connor's bedroom, the room that Connor had only just been given and had only just begun to furnish, Hank sighed at the lack of activity within the private space. The bed was perfectly made, the lamp was off, and the emerald-green guitar was sitting in the corner of the room on its metal support stand. The aquarium against the far wall was full of brightly colored fish swimming about energetically in crystal clear water. On shaking legs Hank made his way into the bedroom and found the container of fish flakes tucked beneath the aquarium in the stand supporting it.

After sprinkling in a few flakes into the water Hank sighed and looked at Sumo who was now sitting in the bedroom doorway watching him.

"All right, Sumo." Hank muttered as he returned to the bathroom. "I'll shower off, get you some food and then we'll go for a walk before I have to go to work."

The senior detective threw off his rather grungy night clothes and proceeded to step into the shower to freshen up. As the warm water rinsed off the drunken night from before, he sighed and proceeded to talk to himself for the sake of breaking the heavy silence of the house.

"...You better be okay, kid."

Adjusting the shower's temperature Hank closed his eyes and tried to not think about a possible worst-case scenario regarding the missing deviant and his future.

"If something happened to you, I'll never forgive myself."

Having a rough morning of his own courtesy of his very intense experience from the previous night, Connor awoke with a mild headache after he slept deeply, but not restfully. Using his trembling arms to slowly push himself upright on the bed, he awkwardly slung his long legs over the edge of the bed and leaned forward to rub his both hands over his tired face to try to wake up a little more. The sensation of small growing stubble on his chin and over his upper lip caught him by surprise and made him press his fingertips to the more abrasive patches of his skin curiously. It had been so long since he was capable of such a human trait, and it made him grin a little.