( Hank tucks into his own food. He's careful how many times he glances up at Gabriel, conscious of not staring as the youth expresses his satisfaction with the meal he ordered. It certainly was more than he could describe; Hank's verdict consisted of a few words, only really what was necessary: good, shit, too drunk to taste.
He takes a sip of his beer as he contemplates Gabriel's next statement. It offered Hank a bit of insight into Gabriel's environment. Or as the other would project it. Interesting people were far and few between, enough for the dark-haired boy to miss encountering them. The timeline is relative; it could be a few hours to a few years. Hank catches himself staring, and he looks down at his meal. When was the last time he had an interesting outing with someone? He wonders how long he could keep up the pretense of being "interesting." The thought then prompts Hank to wonder just when he decided to try and be interesting for the kid... He was a disappointment. Gabriel will soon see that. )
no subject
He takes a sip of his beer as he contemplates Gabriel's next statement. It offered Hank a bit of insight into Gabriel's environment. Or as the other would project it. Interesting people were far and few between, enough for the dark-haired boy to miss encountering them. The timeline is relative; it could be a few hours to a few years. Hank catches himself staring, and he looks down at his meal. When was the last time he had an interesting outing with someone? He wonders how long he could keep up the pretense of being "interesting." The thought then prompts Hank to wonder just when he decided to try and be interesting for the kid... He was a disappointment. Gabriel will soon see that. )
What keeps you from enjoying those meals?