[ And that was just all kinds of not the kind of response he was expecting, so he physically and verbally fumbles as they head down into it. ]

W-What the fuck are you babbling about?

[ Do you have a piss fetish, Hank? What is happening! You throwing him on the bed isn't helping, his heart is suddenly pounding like a sledge hammer. ]

I don't need a fuckin' excuse to be angry— Jesus Christ why is everything so goddamn loud?!

[ His jeans rubbing against the sheets, the hum of the fridge in the corner (the food inside smells really good), Hank's breathing, the overwhelming stench of his drying blood. ]