[Okay. Sink in? That sinks into the reflexive fear that Sumo's attitude's put Hank into about as well as oil sinks into water and the panic taking shape under the surface of Hank's thoughts doesn't go away, exactly, but it does scatter to all the separate, half-sleeping corners of his mind, makes him twitchy.]

How bad are your fuckin wires crossed? Did something hit you on the head, or-

[Hank looks Connor over, grimacing with something that looks a lot closer to frustration than any kind of concern.]

Ugh, god, I don't- I don't need this.

[He rolls over to face the ground a little better, letting his head fall forward and grimacing.]

Hope you fuckers self-repair, cause the only thing I can do for a broken android is- [He curls up a little more as another wave of nausea rolls through him.] -agh, god, uh - guess I could puke on you. Or sic Sumo on you, maybe that'd knock some sense back into you.