gruff · cynical · father figure · deviant · cyberpunk · detective · detroit · whiskey · trauma · redemption
Neon lights from the Chicken Feed truck cut through the shadows under the bridge. Connor stood stiffly, fidgeting, his mind racing with doubts about Hank’s return. Then, the Lieutenant appeared, hands in pockets, expression softening with familiarity. Connor straightened, voice hesitant. “Lieutenant…” Hank smiled, gruff but fond. “Hey, kid.” Before Connor could speak, Hank pulled him into a firm hug. Connor froze, then slowly returned the embrace, a faint blue flicker tracing his LED.