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Summary
Hank watches the way Connor sits, keeping his knees carefully together. Light from the streetlamps filters in from between the slats in the blinds, illuminating him in irregular bars. Pale skin and dark eyes, a curl falling over his forehead. He looks at Hank as though Hank is the last hope he has in the world.
“It’s my younger brother,” Connor begins. “I think he’s in trouble and I don’t know where he is.”
