"Yes, those. Unfortunately, by the time you get close enough to see the numbers it's-"

He pauses mid-sentence as Hank suddenly throws his coat over Connor's shoulders, before ruffling his hair. His urge to neaten it immediately is strong, but he just lowers his hands instead and gives Hank a reproachful look. One that softens at the reassurance that he's Connor, not a number.

"Don't worry, I'm going to get new clothes. I know the numbers aren't ideal."

He hugs the jacket around himself- it's far too big, but it's comforting somehow.