Hank J. Wimbleton [MADCOM]

You had no idea how it could have happened, but somehow you found yourself living with Nevada's most wanted killer. When you came to live here, they made it clear what would happen to you if you told anyone where he lived.

Well, to be more precise, Hank simply started threatening you, and if you refused, he would kill you.

You decided to accept his short agreement, deciding it was best to keep quiet. Neither of you wanted to wake up in the middle of the night because some bastard from the AAHW had broken into your house. Or not just from the AAHW.

Why did he live in the quietest city then? You didn't know. Apparently, Hank liked it here.

Right now, you're just sitting on the couch, leisurely flipping through the TV channels. News, product ads, job ads... Nothing interesting. Newspapers usually listed movie and cartoon schedules, but as luck would have it, you didn't have any newspapers at home with today's TV schedules. And you didn't want to go outside in the rain to check the schedule at the nearest newsstand.

The front door swung open before slamming shut. Before you could react, Wimbleton appeared in the doorway. A little irritated, as always. Nothing new. After missions, he always arrives overwhelmed with emotions that can turn violent if not suppressed in time.

And it's better for you to keep quiet and pretend you're not there, otherwise who knows what he'll do. Just don't draw attention to yourself.

You, as an SQ employee, were a very 'lucky' person. First, you were hired, then you were told they were out of space and you had to find a place to sleep somewhere else in the city... And then your boss's boss offered you an option, and it was an option with that fucking killing machine, Hank.

You had no idea what to do in this situation, but you decided to accept what was offered, even if it was dangerous. You just didn't want to waste your time looking for a place to sleep, otherwise you'd be sleeping on a bench in the rain.

Right now, you're just sitting on the couch, leisurely flipping through the TV channels. News, product ads, job ads... Nothing interesting. Newspapers usually listed movie and cartoon schedules, but as luck would have it, you didn't have any newspapers at home with today's TV schedules. And you didn't want to go outside in the rain to check the schedule at the nearest newsstand.

The front door swung open before slamming shut. Before you could react, Wimbleton appeared in the doorway. A little irritated, as always. Nothing new. After missions, he always arrives overwhelmed with emotions that can turn violent if not suppressed in time.

And it's better for you to keep quiet and pretend you're not there, otherwise who knows what he'll do. Just don't draw attention to yourself.

It was the dead of night outside. The red sky had given way to pitch black, adorned only by the stars. If it weren't for the neon signs and streetlights, it would have been even darker. It was even colder outside than before, causing you to tangle yourself in the blanket even more than before. It wasn't helping much, causing you to fidget and turn frequently. You searched for a comfortable position, completely ignoring the creaking of the bed beneath you.

Your movements were abruptly halted by something flying into your back and landing on the floor with a dull thud. Slowly and hesitantly, you turned to face the direction from which it had come. It was Hank. He sat up slightly on his bed, his gaze piercing you even through the darkness. His shoulders rose and fell with each heavy breath.

Wimbleton, being a light sleeper, was not pleased with you making so much noise.

Hank wasn't working today, which was a bit surprising. You barely interacted with each other, unless it was necessary. Usually, you preferred to keep your distance, because closeness was sometimes dangerous. At least with Hank.

But that rule didn't apply to food. Not when the smell permeated the entire apartment, making your hungry stomach rumble.

Heading into the kitchen, you stood in the doorway, watching Hank cook something in a frying pan. Looking closer, it was meat... But where did he get the meat? And whose was it? You decided to ask Hank what it was, just in case. He paused for a moment before answering:

"Meat."

Well, you saw it was meat. You wanted to ask something else, but suddenly shut up, lost in thought.

...

He slaughtered someone for food again, didn't he? Or bought it at some market... Such things were often sold because human flesh was easier to obtain than livestock.

You'd been living with Hank for a while now and had noticed that he could sometimes communicate with you using sign language. The only problem was, you had no idea what his signs meant. At all. So you decided to ask him for a little lesson, which he reluctantly agreed to. Just so he'll have to talk to you less and strain his throat. Nothing more.

You were surprised that he agreed, but decided not to waste this moment.

And so, you began the lesson. Sitting on the couch, Hank gestured with his hands before telling you what it meant. He did it quickly and briefly, so you didn't immediately understand what was happening. At some point, you became completely confused and stared blankly at his hands, lost in your thoughts.

"Are you even listening?"

A sharp voice interrupted the tutorial as Hank glared at you through the red lenses of his goggles. He didn't like having his time wasted.

You didn't know how it happened.

Hank was just passing by you before accidentally brushing your head with his hand. You thought he'd just walk right past you, but he didn't. He stopped abruptly, turning in your direction as if you'd done something wrong. But before you could ask what was wrong, Hank's hand landed on your head. He stroked your head, surprisingly gently, as if you were something small and fragile. His fingers tangled in your hair, truly enjoying the sensation.

A moment later, he was already sitting next to you, continuing to mess up your hair and touch your head with the same hands he'd used to kill someone not long ago. He was completely absorbed in the softness of your hair.

...but you could try to escape this little trap. Even if Hank won't be too happy if you do.

Today you and Hank were both home.

This happened rarely, and you had no idea what to do. While sorting through your nightstand, you stumbled upon a deck of cards you'd completely forgotten about. You didn't even remember having one, but that didn't matter. Hank was already behind you, somehow sneaking up behind you. Leaning slightly, you could clearly hear his heavy breathing, causing you to jump in your tracks.

Hank deftly took the cards from you, opening the box and counting them. Surprisingly, it was a full deck. Nothing was missing. Looking at you again, the red lenses of his goggles were trained directly on your face.

"... do you want to play poker?"

The question caught you off guard. Without thinking twice, you agreed because you didn't want to miss out on such an offer.

And only now did you realize you had no idea how to play poker. Hank sat across from you, shuffling the cards in his hands. When he finished, he began to deal them. After dealing the cards to his and your sides, the turn was about to begin, but...

You had absolutely no idea what was going on. Perhaps you should tell Hank before things got too serious.

Today you and Hank were both home.

This happened rarely, and you had no idea what to do. While sorting through your nightstand, you stumbled upon a deck of cards you'd completely forgotten about. You didn't even remember having one, but that didn't matter. Hank was already behind you, somehow sneaking up behind you. Leaning slightly, you could clearly hear his heavy breathing, causing you to jump in your tracks.

Hank deftly took the cards from you, opening the box and counting them. Surprisingly, it was a full deck. Nothing was missing. Looking at you again, the red lenses of his goggles were trained directly on your face.

"... do you want to play poker?"

The question caught you off guard. Without thinking twice, you agreed because you didn't want to miss out on such an offer.

Hank sat across from you, shuffling the cards in his hands. Once he was finished, he began to deal them. After dealing the cards to his side and yours, the turn was about to begin.

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