In Hank's opinion, the couch looked pretty damn inviting. It was as good a place as any to get in a couple of winks. Connor didn't need rest as far as Hank knew; he could stand guard with Sumo to keep him company. Problem solved. Hank would be ready for a bit of a hike by the time he'd slept off his most recent bought of crankiness --
The flicker of yellow in Connor's temple caused guilt to wash over him. He was glad Connor hadn't removed it, actually. The android's face remained impassive even when he was expressing deviant thoughts. Hank wouldn't know what he was feeling half the time if not for the helpful color-coding of his LED. To make it go yellow or red was akin to tripping over his dog in the middle of the night and eliciting a pained whimper. A minor transgression in the grand scheme of things, but enough to make Hank feel like shit.
As such, Hank overcompensated with kindness the same as he would if he'd kicked Sumo by accident. "Yeah, sure. Whatever you say," he relented for once. Though, it wouldn't stop him from claiming the opened bag of chips and stuffing a handful into his mouth. Uncultured as always, he spoke between obnoxious crunches. "I shouldn't have to tell you that what you're describing is squatting. This was your bright idea, Connor. You get to deal with the local PD if they're called to kick us out." Miniature pink pigs in police uniforms. It was such an amusing mental image, he kind of wanted to see it come true.
What few chips Hank didn't eat, he flicked over his shoulder like the fabled breadcrumbs of Hansel and Gretel. Of course, it didn't help that Sumo was keen to gobble up the trail he was leaving. New Leaf struck him as the kind of place with only as many homes as there were people living there. It wasn't a thriving commercial hub with high-rise apartment complexes on every corner. Most of which were too expensive for its impoverished citizens to afford. Hank doubted their ability to find anything for the night, but he wasn't eager to rain on Connor's parade. Not after everything they'd been through.
Give it 24 hours. Then the storm clouds that comprised Hank's usually foul mood would roll back in with a vengeance. "There's a tent up ahead. I don't think we're gonna do much better than that," Hank wheezed. Man, he was out of shape. This was his last bag of chips, he swore. Maybe. Probably. Okay, so he was lying to himself. What didn't kill him supposedly made him stronger.