( Hank moves his hand from the bottle and turns toward Connor. His gums still feel weak, but the rest of him sobered up quickly enough to have strength in the embrace. He closes his eyes and presses his face against Connor's neck. He exhales, and his lips tremble. He was overwhelmed with emotion, and the insecurity within him bubbled beneath his skin - or it was the stress making his body sick for the drink. )

Don't... apologize. ( He grips the fabric on Connor's back. ) I wasn't ... what I was saying. I know you care about what I want, but this wasn't ... about me, Connor. ( Heat rises and his forehead is beginning to feel clammy. The longer he sits in distress, with the bottle in reach, the stronger the withdrawal symptoms become. )