THE WORMS CRAWL IN, THE WORMS CRAWL OUT [ When Hank first arrived, he thought the place seemed generally kind of neat. It's got a very "Nightmare On Christmas" vibe, which he can see the appeal of even if his own taste runs a little more modern and a little less black and white and red all over.
And then he found the maggots.
Hank isn't a small man, exactly, but he knows what size maggots are supposed to be. He's seen plenty of them, and the maggot he almost stumbles across is definitely much larger than they are supposed to be. He pulls up short and stares at it, frowning in something between idle curiosity and puzzled horror and trying to keep his distance from the puddle of blood and something that looks suspiciously like organ meat it's sitting in, hand moving towards where his gun is tucked away just as a precaution. ]
Okay. Just like a large caterpillar. Large caterpillar size of man. ...large caterpillar size of man that eats meat. Why?
[ Like it's going to answer him.
And then it kind of...flops in his general direction, swinging its tiny head towards him and gnashing its teeth and WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON. He practically trips trying to take another step back and no, that was absolutely not a weirdly undignified noise for such a heavily tattooed man coming out of him what are you even talking about. ]
Bad caterpillar.
[ Yes, he has a gun. No, he hasn't considered actually using it. ]
PAIRS WELL WITH FAVA BEANS AND A NICE CHIANTI [ "Weird" food offerings aren't exactly unusual in Hank's world, specifically food that involves organ meat. He's probably eaten just about everything on the table except for eyeballs and brains since he was a boy, but it's never been raw. The smell of it rankles, familiar because he knows it well, the profession he's in, but that doesn't mean he likes it.
He keeps his distance. Sticks to the alcohol, pouring himself a shot or two of vodka before realizing he doesn't have anything to eat with it, and sighs. ]
Bad luck it is, I guess. What else is new. You give me Barsh, I'm happy as clam. What do they think I am, animal?
NETWORK|text hello, I am Hank and new. happy to meet you all! even if your town is creepy af. I am sure is nicer rest of year, yes?
NoHo Hank | HBO's Barry
[ When Hank first arrived, he thought the place seemed generally kind of neat. It's got a very "Nightmare On Christmas" vibe, which he can see the appeal of even if his own taste runs a little more modern and a little less black and white and red all over.
And then he found the maggots.
Hank isn't a small man, exactly, but he knows what size maggots are supposed to be. He's seen plenty of them, and the maggot he almost stumbles across is definitely much larger than they are supposed to be. He pulls up short and stares at it, frowning in something between idle curiosity and puzzled horror and trying to keep his distance from the puddle of blood and something that looks suspiciously like organ meat it's sitting in, hand moving towards where his gun is tucked away just as a precaution. ]
Okay. Just like a large caterpillar. Large caterpillar size of man. ...large caterpillar size of man that eats meat. Why?
[ Like it's going to answer him.
And then it kind of...flops in his general direction, swinging its tiny head towards him and gnashing its teeth and WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON. He practically trips trying to take another step back and no, that was absolutely not a weirdly undignified noise for such a heavily tattooed man coming out of him what are you even talking about. ]
Bad caterpillar.
[ Yes, he has a gun. No, he hasn't considered actually using it. ]
PAIRS WELL WITH FAVA BEANS AND A NICE CHIANTI
[ "Weird" food offerings aren't exactly unusual in Hank's world, specifically food that involves organ meat. He's probably eaten just about everything on the table except for eyeballs and brains since he was a boy, but it's never been raw. The smell of it rankles, familiar because he knows it well, the profession he's in, but that doesn't mean he likes it.
He keeps his distance. Sticks to the alcohol, pouring himself a shot or two of vodka before realizing he doesn't have anything to eat with it, and sighs. ]
Bad luck it is, I guess. What else is new. You give me Barsh, I'm happy as clam. What do they think I am, animal?
NETWORK|text
hello, I am Hank and new. happy to meet you all!
even if your town is creepy af. I am sure is nicer rest of year, yes?