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[Firo's frown deepens just slightly. He believes in mercy for kids as much as anyone, but he's seen the other side of that coin, where almost any option is better than what you've got.

For his part, he was 13, so he wasn't a baby or anything. And he'd been on the street long enough that he knew a thing or two, so he wasn't flying blind.

He keeps those thoughts locked away and instead focuses on what's simplest to argue and gripe at.]

I never said I had an emotional issue in the first place! You're the one who started making that stuff up.

Even if I did, it's not exactly your business as long as I'm not bothering you. Or one of your friends. [He'll concede that Hank may even have some of those.]

Yeah. [He shrugs, making it the vast distance from the table to the pizza, ripping off a ragged, unevenly shaped piece of it, and folding it up to finish it off more quickly.] Point. This is really good, you know that? Then again, don't know how long it's been since I ate, probably cardboard would taste really good right about now.

[Firo's surprised that Hank actually concedes the last point, but he's quick to cover it up with a confident nod. Yeah. Of course Hank agreed with him because he's totally right.

If not for the immediate comparison to cardboard, Hank's praise might have almost made him smile a bit. He snorts instead.]

That's some way to thank a guy.

[He did sort of force Hank into this, though, so how much gratitude can he really expect?]

I guess I didn't wind up teaching you much at all... But once you finish that, I can go get that booze.

Oh yeah?

[Hank perks up, straightening and looking interested, and then doubtful as he looks back down and picks at the edges of the rest of the pizza.]

What were you gonna teach me?

How to make your own food with all this. Teach a man to fish, you know.

[Waving his hand to indicate the kitchen about which Hank has thoroughly voiced his opinion.It probably would've helped if Firo'd actually tried to get and keep his attention, but at the time it had seemed like such a pain... Besides, it's not his fault if Hank starves.]

It's crazy to go hungry when there's still food here.

Shit, don't teach me to fish either.

[Fuck it. If eating like he wants to after however long of not doing it's going to fuck him up, it'll fuck him up. Whatever. He rips off a small piece for Firo, walking close enough to throw- no, bad idea, probably - to set it on his plate, rolling up the rest for himself.]

Don't tell me you like, hunt and gather all your own food too, with the fishing and shit.

It's just a saying.

[Firo pauses when Hank forks over some of the pizza, but he did make it, didn't he? And with the food in front of him, he's hungrier than he thought. He nods his thanks and takes a bite.]

No way. I wouldn't know where to begin with all of that stuff.

You sure? Makin a pizza from scratch can't be that far off.

[He takes a bite and chews and looks at Firo thoughtfully. He doesn't sit; now that he can stand okay, he wants to. After this past week, it's novel.]

Why'd you do that, anyway? All this. You could of just kicked me out.

[It's the million dollar question, the one Firo's been asking himself through this conversation.

He doesn't have an answer, so he shoves another bite of pizza in his mouth, as if that'll save him.]

You--you still owe me that favor. It wouldn't be good for business if I just kicked you out.

Yeah?

[Hank didn't miss that stammer, and he spends a moment debating with himself while he chews more pizza. It might or might not be starting to settle weirdly and he sets down what's left, frowning at it, still debating. Should he go for a different answer? On one hand he could piss off the one guy who can give him something other than stupid wine to drink. On the other hand-

On the other hand, fuck it.]

I woulda owed you that favor no matter what. An agreement doesn't go away just cause you pissed me off, unless you made your agreement with a real asshole.

[Hank's got him there. But Firo's Evasion Senses (TM) spot a potential avenue for him to wriggle out of answering again, and he goes right for it.]

Are you trying to tell me you're not a real asshole?

No, I’m a fake asshole, I pucker up with plastic and velcro.

[So what if that doesn’t make sense? He’s being literal about the asshole thing. He’s being gross. It’s fine.]

You really think I’m gonna try to weasel out of owing you vague favors that we already said I could veto if I didn’t like em? I might be a real asshole but I’m not a stupid one.

[Firo doesn't even entirely understand what Hank's talking about, and he's still disgusted. He exhales in a long breath that's almost a growl.]

How should I know? All I know about you is that you like to drink and you're a cop.

[Then why'd you go making a deal with him, Firo?]

[He looks down at his pizza, rips off a little bit and stuffs it in his mouth, then moves the rest over to Firo's plate, answering around the mouthful of food.]

Then you're either a shitty mobster or you really like bustin kneecaps. That how you make deals when money's involved too?

[Firo barely registers the pizza being shifted to him; his eyes are locked on Hanks, his voice tense.]

I know how to do my job.

[Some of that tension dissipates as he continues, but his focus does not.]

I'm not on the bootlegging side of things anyway. I manage our casino.

[He doesn't so much intend "casino" as the takeaway as "manage." If there's one thing he's good at, it's crime.]

Yeah?

[They say people spend one third of their lives sleeping. Hank, by this point, has probably spent one third of his life in an interview room. The part of him that spent all that time there likes the tense note to the guy's voice after Hank said he was bad at the whole crime thing, because anger like that's one hell of a lever. The part of Hank that's tired, though, and feels like shit, the part of him that would give pretty much anything to be having a hangover right now, rather than whatever the hell it is he's feeling, that part of him tells the cop part of him to shut the fuck up, he's not here to lever anything out of the guy except something to drink, and pissing him off's going to do the opposite of that.

Hank flops back into his chair, slumping forward over his arms and curling up a little.]

Good for you. Is that why that first batch of hooch you made tastes so funky?

[Okay, so he doesn't feel good enough to try that hard to not piss him off. If Firo really wanted someone who was polite all the time he wouldn't be here. It's probably fine.]

[Firo should've known that Hank wouldn't be impressed. Honestly, he'd sort of foolishly hoped that he would be, at least enough to back off.

But Hank's back to insulting his alcohol, which is a more acceptable target; Firo's shoulders slope back to their resting position.]

So what if it does? I told you already, it's all you've got.

[Firo doesn't even know what he's arguing for anymore. Probably just "whatever is the opposite of what Hank says."]

Yeah, I wasn't complaining. Do I look like I'm in any position to be choosy?

[He doesn't. If he looked like a bum the night Firo met him he looks worse now, and smells worse, too. It's fine. This is just the kind of month Hank's having.]

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