[He gives a crooked little smile and then looks away, sucking at his teeth as he tries to think over how loud his brain's yelling about the one thing it really, really wants, a liquid way to kill off all the brain cells he spent that first horrible week on this ship growing back. If Izuku happened to have something to drink on him not asking for it might be a little harder. But he doesn't, so it's not.

The second thing Hank thinks of is a no-go, too; chances are pretty good, he thinks, that if he asked the kid to toss him over the edge of that big dumb hole in the ship, Izuku probably wouldn't laugh. If that kind of humor's secretly Izuku's thing, Hank would be really goddamn surprised.

God, okay, think of something normal. Something Izuku can do that'll make him feel like he's helping. He likes that, helping people, and it's not his fault there's not a single thing anyone but Hank can actually do for Hank.]

You can- uh, play with my dog? Or, he's been walking a lot, so- you can nap with him? I don't know, if I do try to get in those stupid spacepod beds he tries to get up with me and it's the saddest fucking thing. I think he misses hanging out with someone who's actually going to sleep once in a while and, you know, sleeping on something he can fit on. So. I mean there's that.

[Technically neither of those things is actually helping Hank. But helping Sumo is doing a favor for Hank, so that works. It totally works.]