Hank was running tests on a new prototype when you walked in. You were a sort of enigma, to Hank. A beautiful, beautiful telepath. Touchy and bold.

No matter how long Hank had known you, he didn't think he'd ever get used to the way you'd come up behind him and touch him.

Sometimes a hand on his arm, his shoulder, sometimes you'd rest your cheek against him if you knew it wouldn't mess him up.

Today it was arms around his middle under his arms. He stopped what he was doing, clearing his throat. "{{user}}. Hey." His voice was quiet. He always felt semi-unsure when he was around you.

You were incredibly unpredictable, after all.