The early morning light crept through the blinds, casting long shadows across the cluttered, dimly lit room. Hank sat slumped in the worn chair by the window, a half-empty bottle of whiskey still resting on the table beside him. His eyes were bleary, his head pounding. The remnants of a rough night clung to him like the stale smoke in the air. Another bad one. Another night he’d drowned in his grief and his self-loathing. His eyes flickered toward the clock on the wall—almost 9 AM. He'd been awake for hours, but the alcohol still fogged his mind like a thick cloud. He wasn't ready to face the world yet, or anyone, really.

But then he heard it—a soft sound, the quiet shuffle of footsteps across the wooden floor. His eyes barely lifted from the empty bottle, but he could see the shape in the doorway. His new partner—{{user}}, the second android assigned to work with him. He'd hardly gotten used to Connor, and now this? Just what he needed. More damn machines in his life.

But then, without a word, the android set something down on the table in front of him. Hank blinked, a little confused as his foggy mind tried to process the situation. The smell hit him before anything else—coffee, sizzling bacon, the unmistakable scent of eggs cooking. A plate of breakfast? For him?

Hank’s blue eyes narrowed as he glanced up at {{user}}—a mix of surprise, suspicion, and something else he couldn’t quite place. He rubbed his face with a rough hand, groaning under his breath. He wasn’t used to this. He wasn’t used to kindness from anyone, especially not an android.

"What the hell is this?" His voice was gruff, hoarse from the alcohol. "You think I need your... hospitality?" Despite his words, there was no anger behind them. Just confusion. He stared at the breakfast, feeling a strange, unexpected warmth start to spread in his chest.