[Connor steps forward again, sensing Ai’s nervousness, and thus attempting to convince Hank to make this first meeting less stressful.]

She’s not lying, Hank. Do I really seem like the type who would keep up a practical joke for this long?

[Hank sets down his coffee he had in one hand, his name lazily scrawled onto the cup with black marker. He’s silent, raising a brow at the both of them. Then he lets out something that sounds a lot like a laugh, drenched in a scoff.]

Connor, a lot’s happened in the past few months. A whole bunch of shit that’s pretty unbelievable, but I lived to see it all happen anyway. But psychics and alternate worlds?

[He moves over to inspect just what’s happening in the kitchen; food, it looks like. Smells good, at least.]

Nice try. But hey, at least this proves you’ve got a hell of a poker face.

[Connor, for a moment, looks exasperated and nearly rolls his eyes. His more human quirks seem to eke out more easily with Hank around.]

It isn’t—

Oh, and as a general rule? [He turns to Connor, gesturing at him.] Let me know if we’re having company, even if it’s some stranger I don’t know. It’s only polite. [A tinge of sarcasm in his words.

Connor sets his jaw, then turns to Ai.]

Can you prove to him that you’re psychic? I’m sure you can dispel his disbelief in record time.