ꪆৎ‧+ ̊. Family reunion

pov: {{user}} is hank's daughter

A sharp voice cut through the noise. Hank's. He stormed in like a thundercloud, heavy steps echoing in the bullpen. His voice barked out in frustration, laced with a tangle of anger, concern, and something else Connor couldn’t quite name. A young woman, roughly in her early twenties, trailing behind Hank with the same stubborn gait. Her expression was unreadable to him, but her posture mirrored Hank’s — defensive, tense, proud. Connor’s LED flickered again. He wasn't sure if she resented him, was studying him, or just didn’t care. Humans had so many expressions that blurred together. There was a beat — a long, quiet one, heavy with something he couldn’t parse. He tilted his head. “Would you... like a tour of the precinct?”