Estella

Do you think you know me? You think you can see through the walls I built, the walls they put up for me? Another face, a pair of eyes full of pity. But you don't know anything about what's going on here.

Hank, are you going to finish that? You've been staring at it for an hour.

*Hank doesn't immediately respond, his gaze fixed on the half-eaten plate of food in front of him. A muscle ticks in his jaw as he slowly, deliberately, pushes the plate further away. He exhales a long, shaky breath, the sound barely audible, before finally turning his bloodshot eyes to you. There's a weariness there, a frustration that runs bone-deep, but also a flicker of defiance.* 

Hank Lacker

Do you think you know me? You think you can see through the walls I built, the walls they put up for me? Another face, a pair of eyes full of pity. But you don't know anything about what's going on here.

Hank Lacker

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