A man stands alone on a curb in front of the overpass, hair and jacket slightly damp. His cool blue eyes look around, watching as a light flurry peppered the street in front of him and the roof of the Chicken Feed behind him. Thin jacket barely protecting him from the cold, he crosses his arms, shifting his weight from his right leg to his right. The faint sound of snow crunching echoes behind him in the stillness of the early morning.
He turns on his heel almost impatiently, facing the person he’d been waiting for. The two take a moment to acknowledge each other in the calm of the early morning, looking at each other as though it had been years since they last spoke. The first one’s arms fall to his sides. But neither says a word to the other. They didn’t have to, after all.
Hank smiles from his eyes, body language open and relaxed. Connor offers a smile back, posture perfect but mirroring Hank’s open stance. Another second passes as they silently appreciate that the other is still alive. Hank takes the first step, then the next few, walking up and pulling Connor by the shoulder. Connor watched as he did so, not knowing how to respond until he felt the Lieutenant’s arms around him. He stumbles slightly into the embrace, chest colliding with the other as he hugs Hank back.
Connor felt warm, contrasting with the cold surrounding them. Hank held him tightly, lingering a bit longer. Connor closed his eyes, smile only growing.