[Hank gives a slow nod, watching his hands straighten out the towel and start folding it up. That means, he thinks, that they're not actually talking about it, about the whole... do you call it grief, when you only knew a couple of the people there, only for a couple months? Do you call it grief if it's, in some small, weird, mysterious way, probably a little bit your fault?

Well, he'd offered Sumo's help with whatever it was Cayde might be feeling - or got as close to saying that outright as he was going to - and Cayde changed the subject to Hank being new at all this weird shit, so... They're probably not talking about it. That's- that's fine. That suits Hank just fine.

There's probably less chance he's going to say the wrong thing this way, anyhow.]

Might of been a little less rough if it wasn't under fucking water. It's a good thing I already didn't care about swimming, cause I'm sure as hell not gonna take it up now.

[He watches his hands finish up with the towel, runs his fingers over it for a second, then sets it on the nightstand. Then he looks up at Cayde.]

Is that how your first one went? Your first, uh, 'being zapped somewhere else' thing? What do you call that, anyway? It's not like she uses a transporter beam to move us around, or anything like that.

[He frowns down at the little puddle starting to settle around his feet. Being annoyed at being all wet's better than thinking about how awkward he sounded just now, trying to figure out how to talk over all the shit they're not talking about.]