systolicarray | ://i have no heart

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://i have no heart

[ it's dark. his internal chronometer reads 9:45pm. it had taken less than an hour to wrap up the hostage situation, and he'd left almost immediately after to catch a cab back to the cyberlife tower.

the reason why he's currently standing on a curb, under the harsh glare of a street lamp, is obvious without words: the cab parked nearby, smoking under the hood, is the culprit. he had called a second cab fifteen minutes ago, but had been warned that it might arrive late. there was currently high traffic congestion in this part of the city, and several cabs were stuck in the backup of vehicles. this was partially due to the streets around the phillips' apartment building being blocked off for several hours.

a moth had broken free from the allure of the street lamp to orbit around his head— it bumped into his LED twice, attracted by the glow. connor stepped sideways, and it followed him.

he waited for his cab to arrive. he didn't didn't think about daniel, or emma. he waited. ]

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What...

( He's imagining a piece of paper being fed through a fax machine, then he imagines Connor swallowing paper, keys, chips, a fucking shoe... It just doesn't make any goddamned sense to him. His brows furrow and he shakes his head. )

I don't know anything about that.

Would you like a demonstration?

[ it's a simple thing to do, it's just a matter of what to use as his example? he quickly glances around the room, but his eyes inevitably return to hank. for a moment he finds himself recalling the scene on the couch, when hank had touched him and kissed him. at the time, he hadn't been consciously analyzing anything, but it still happened. however, he hadn't recorded the data, because he hadn't considered it important.

connor shifts his grip on the bag of thirium and reaches out to touch hank's mouth, gently thumbing the corner of his lip before bringing the digit back to his own mouth to draw his tongue across the pad of his thumb. his LED blinks, and he recites: ]

Human saliva: Ninety night percent water, and containing trace amounts of electrolytes, mucopolysaccharides, glycoproteins, several antibacterial compounds, various enzymes, Epidermal Growth Factor, bacterial cells, Opiorphin, and Haptocorrin. I'm also detecting trace amounts of alcohol. And I believe you had a burger recently?

( Hank stills with Connor's lean toward him. He holds his breath, and he allows Connor to poke at his lips, then between them, before that finger is pulled back and swiped down across his tongue.

He's left puzzled, despite the obvious analyses that Connor's providing him. He swallows. He brings a hand up to touch his lips, exhales through his nose, then drops his hand to his lap. )

That's... really fucking weird.

It's also very useful. Although I guess not so much for laying low.

[ will he ever be able to do what he was made for again? he's itching to be doing something, to be a part of some investigation, at a crime scene— it's what he was made for. but he failed, and isn't the result of failure obsolescence? he turns his head from hank and finishes off the last of the thirium in the bag he's been holding before opening a third, which he drinks in silence, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallows the thick liquid, his thoughts now elsewhere. ]

Jesus Christ. They made your mouth to analyze shit? I mean, you're fucking mouth? They couldn't have just... you know, with your finger instead?

( He doesn't say it, but he's sure thinking about the kinky innuendos of a mouth that can analyze anything. Hank watches as Connor sucks down more of the blue liquid. He could do that without needing a break to breathe and the idea causes another heat to rush up to his face. Considering the path of thoughts he was already walking. )

[ connor pauses mid-drink to consider it, but he finishes the pack that he's drinking before he answers, and hands the lieutenant the empty, discarded packs that he's already done with.

he licks his lips again. ]

In order for the hardware to work properly, the evidence has to be isolated. My oral cavity is idea for this function.

Well, they just fucking thought of everything, didn't they? A nice isolated hole for you to stick... ( What the fuck was he saying? Hank takes the empty bags in his hand and pulls them over to his lap. Hank huffs through his nostrils and licks his lips. There was no reason for him to say such things, just as there was no reason for his imagination to get so worked up about Connor's perfect fucking mouth. )

Yes...?

[ connor's eyebrows raise, but it's unclear whether or not he gets where hank's mind has gone. he was made to analyze evidence, not... well.

he was made to be the perfect partner. maybe when hank hears that part of the spiel he'll feel differently about what constitutes using connor for his intended purpose. ]

Nothing. Nothing.

( Hank holds his breath as he stands and walks over to the garbage to deposit the empty bags. He peeks out through the blinds and then returns to the bed and sits once again. )

How long until this shit works?

Instantly.

[ hmmm. his eyes follow hank as he walks across the room and back, curious but not enough to ask again. his thirium reserves are high enough for maximum functioning like this, but there's no reason not to fully fill up. he opens the last pack and takes a sip, less desperate now. ]

I'm feeling much better.

Wow. Okay... ( Hank eyes Connor, as if he could see the evidence of his replenished state. Maybe he could, without that sleepy look to Connor's face and his quick responses to Hank's dumbfounded inquiries.

Or maybe he just imagined it all. At least Connor will be able to do things for himself, whatever that may be. )

Have you uh.. been outside of Michigan?

[ connor quirks his head at the sudden change in subject, but the answer is simple: ]

No.

I've never been outside of Detroit. I was manufactured here.

( It was small talk, and Hank's not surprised he's back to square one. He doesn't know what else to say or how to get his thoughts back on track. Connor was behaving like the least sexually aware person he'd ever met. He found that a bit frustrating, and it makes him think about the night before, on the couch.

What he wanted was for Connor to want him, to feed into Hank's attraction with reciprocation. It's not like a few hours would change Connor from where he was on the couch to now. Hank's nostrils flare with a deep breath. How did this happen to him? Why did this happen to him? )

Yeah. Okay. ( He glances over to Connor, his eyes linger where Connor's suckling away on the blue liquid. It makes his gut turn upside down with another flare of desire. )

Er.. ( He struggles to say anything, though he has a few things that cross his mind that would be another stab at some small talk. He's less interested in talking and more interested in shamefully watching Connor's mouth, and the muscles of his throat suck down that liquid. )

[ connor watches hank, waiting for him to continue speaking. when he doesn't, he doesn't know what to say himself. he isn't incapable of small-talk, but he can sense hank's discomfort, and he isn't certain the source, which makes it a little difficult to know which direction he should take the conversation in.

but honestly, he's not so sure that it matters. this is an unorthodox situation. ]

I've only been in operation for a month.

[ as though that's an explanation for why he's never left the state. ]

Oh, ... well. ( Hank nods as if that explains everything about why Connor hasn't been out of the state. Who leaves the state after only being born? Hank's mouth twists, his eyes slide up to Connor's brown ones. ) I think I'd like to take you out of Michigan, we'll go somewhere else. Maybe a long fucking trip, actually.

( He had this image of going cross-country in an RV with Connor. It seemed like a nice idea, going off on their own and experiencing these different landmarks first hand. )

Where would we go?

[ it's difficult for him to imagine getting in a car and just going away. he was made with a specific task in mind. leaving detroit, leaving michigan, would be antithetical to that task. but does it matter now that he's all but been discarded? he needs to find out, somehow, what cyberlife plans to do, and whether or not he's safe.

or if he's really been abandoned.

he stares down at the bag he's holding in his hand, the wrinkled, metallic material returning his reflection to him distorted. whatever he thinks, if hank wants to leave the state and take him, he doesn't have much choice in the matter. ]

( He regrets the answer on the tip of his tongue before he even says it. The idea was ridiculous but also, in some form or manner, predictable, and Hank feels some self-compassion as he regards his instincts to go home. Detroit was home, but his parents had packed up and gone to a warmer state, Florida. Hank wanted to run away, to run back to his parents and get a sense of safety from snuggling right back into the nest.

How would he explain Connor? Well, for one thing, his parents wouldn't know any of what was going on in Detroit with Connor, so he didn't have to come up with too much of an elaborate lie. This.... is.... Connor, from work. He was satisfied with that until another inquiry sprouts from his mind: why the fuck are you bringing a young man--android home? Well, fuck, it wasn't a perfect plan, but it was something. )

Florida. It'll be warmer there...

Florida...

[ connor brings his hand to his mouth, the knuckle of his first finger resting against his chin. his voice is thoughtful, as though he's seriously considering it; he's curious, that's all. it's hank's job to do the considering, now that he no longer has the authority to make his own decisions. it's somewhat strange to be relegated to the same position as other androids, no longer with any preferential treatment, but that's his lot in life.

insomuch as he has a life, anyway. ]

It might be nice to see the rest of the country.

You want to go further than Florida?

( Hank pulls in a breath through flared nostrils. He looks from Connor to his feet and then twists his mouth. Anyway, it was a thought to give up Detroit and spend a few years on the road. Where no one knew their name. Fuck, that has to be a line from some emo song. Hank bites at his bottom lip as the suspect lyrical phrase bothers him. It'll bother him all fucking night now. )

Well, logically speaking, we would have a better likelihood of avoiding CyberLife if we left the country altogether. That's assuming they're going to look for me, though.

[ it would be difficult to avoid them otherwise, if they do decide to chase him down. but they might only do it if they realize he hasn't been destroyed in the first place, and how will they find him if they aren't looking for him? the RK800 series hasn't yet been publicly revealed, so as long as nobody happens to notice what he is... ]

There's also one other issue.

( Hank's brow lifts as he throws Connor an inquisitive glance. For a few reasons. One, didn't CyberLife have some sort of better management for their androids, like a tracking device? Second, what other issue? They've got a lot already on their plate. )

What, you're wanted in forty states?

No. But deviancy cases have been rising at an unprecedented rate, and there's no reason they won't continue to do so. Having an android, especially one that wasn't legally acquired, could put you in a dangerous position.

[ connor clearly doesn't get the joke. or maybe he's just decided there's more pressing matters? no, he probably just didn't get the joke. still, it's a reasonable concern to have. ]

( Hank just doesn't have the ability, the information, the experience to put two and two together. So, that expression of confusion and longing for an explanation remains on his face. )

How does that put me in a dangerous position?

If it can't be stopped, it could mean an uprising. There are millions of androids in circulation.

[ do the numbers, and the problem becomes clear. connor considers for a moment, his gaze distant, and then continues. ]

I was eventually going to be released to the DPD to investigate the issue, but now I suppose my successor will be the one to do it.

Hm.

( Hank's following along with the implications that he would be traveling with a potential deviant outlaw - or at least that's what he thought that's what Connor was talking about. The comment about an uprising became more of immediate concern for Hank, in that such an organized event could mean a lot of people getting hurt. Deviants, right, those were considered androids that killed their owners? Or was it... was it just that they refused an order? )

What exactly are you concerned about, Connor? You think you'll kill me?

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