Hopper looked down at the ridiculous outfit he was wearing. He'd had to blend in, down in that commie hell hole. He jerked his arms, all but ripping the shirt off, taking him down to a solid white T. Not much he could do about the pants, unless he wanted to run around in his underwear. He didn't. Taking off the Russian Military Uniform shirt was the best he was going to do, as far as cleaning up. He had no idea how bad his face looked, but he could feel the bruises forming around his eye and around his lip.
He really didn't care. A couple drinks, he'd forget all about it.
"You're eighteen, right?" Hopper honestly didn't care. He'd buy the kid a drink regardless. He was a god damn chief of police, he broke the rules when it suited him. Steve deserved a drink or three for putting up with Hopper, and for getting him to a bar. Assuming his 'in that direction' paid off.
Hopper took a few steps in that general direction, then stopped. "I fought the good fight. Standing by the gate. Looked up at Joyce in the control room. Nodded. I knew that was it. Adios, Hoppper. Sayōnara, it's the end of the line." He was entirely chill about it because he knew he'd done what had to be done. he'd saved El. He'd saved Will. He'd saved Joyce.
He'd done something, something huge, that he knew would have made Sara proud to call him 'dad'.