systolicarray | ://i have no heart

[ a cascade of water falls from his body as the lieutenant helps him to stand, water draining from his open wounds into the basin of the tub. he leaves a watery trail behind him even after he's helped to dry off, but lets himself be led across the hallways into the bedroom, his injured leg unable to hold his weight without the lieutenant's help.

he's still dripping when the lieutenant aids him in sitting on the bed, his wet hair limp against his skull. his eyes follow each movement the man makes, but especially his hands, as though he's waiting for him to touch him again.

then he notices the dog, for the first time, and peers at the animal curiously for several seconds before turning his attention back to the lieutenant. ]

There's something else I need your help with, Lieutenant. I have to remove the damaged arm and leg, but I can't do it one-handed.

( Hank busies his hands with helping dry Connor off. Hank brushes his fingers through Connor's hair. He wipes his fingers on the towel and lowers himself to the bed. The request settles heavily on him. He doesn't know what to do; Connor will have to walk him through it. )

It's not going to hurt you, and you'll be able to tell me how, right?

Yes; And androids can't feel pain, so there's no need to worry.

[ he tries on a smile for size, with the intention to reassure. then, he places his first and second fingers, and his thumb, to three different points against his shoulder. at the same time, the synthetic skin of his damaged arm retracts, revealing where the part attaches to his body. after applying pressure to the places where his fingertips are resting, a soft clicking sound comes from his shoulder joint. ]

Hold onto the arm, twist it upward, and then pull it away from my body.

Ah, fuck... Okay.

( Hank frowns. He turns on the bed to face Connor and gets his hands on the arm. He feels his gut twist, again, anxiously responding to the role he's about to take. Hank pushes aside his inadequacy and tells himself he doesn't have to be a mechanic, ... (is that even what you call an android ... fixer??) and all he has to do is exactly what Connor directs him to do. Hank squeezes his fingers around the arm, then motions it. The arm slips from in place and Hank brings it to his lap. He looks to Connor, concern evident in his expression. )

That alright?

Yes, thank you.

[ another smile finds its way to his face, although it doesn't remain long, as though the unnaturalness of the expression resting there makes it hard to maintain. but there's no damage to the socket where the arm was, which is easily assessed by both his external and internal investigations. ]

I know this is probably uncomfortable for you, but leaving damaged limbs attached could cause shorts and other issues, so it's better to remove them as soon as possible.

[ he glances down at himself, trying to decide the best angle to remove the leg from his hip. twisting to face hank, he pulls his good leg up onto the bed, folded at an angle beneath his body. the artificial skin covering his damaged leg melts away to reveal where the leg attaches just below the crease of his hip, and he reaches across his body to press his thumb and forefinger just above it, his thumb dimpling the soft plastic. that same soft click sounds.

he leans back to give the lieutenant some room, the synthetic muscles of his abdomen tightening to maintain his balance. ]

You'll have to use both hands, but it's the same procedure.

( Hank moves the arm aside, further up the bed. He watches Connor turn toward him, and his eyes fall to the place between Connor's thighs. He can't help the perverted curiosity before he looks to the thigh where Connor touches.

Hank moves his hands across the thigh, finds a place to grip, then squeezes his fingers and twists, pushes, and pulls the limb from Connor's body.

He lets the battered piece fall to the floor. Sumo, of course, comes to inspect the limb. The St. Bernard offers the lost piece a few exploratory licks before the dog ultimately decides it doesn't taste like anything interesting to grab and run with. )

It's okay, I want to help, Connor.

[ it's a strange sensation, to be touched in this particular way with bare hands. normally when the technicians are working on an android, they're dressed in a full kit of sterile lab clothes, gloves included, to make certain none of the materials are contaminated. he's never experienced the roughness of real, warm, human skin against exposed plastic, pushing and pulling, gentle despite the violence that seems inherent to the situation. it's distracting.

and then for a moment he's distracted by the dog as well— a warning on the tip of his tongue that it would be dangerous to let him use his leg as a chew toy. but he doesn't bother when he loses interest, and his attention returns to the man sitting next to him on the bed. ]

I'm going to need you to order those things I mentioned before. I currently have three minor internal bleeds. It won't be a serious issue for a while, but I'll need to repair the damage and replenish my Thirium reserves as soon as possible.

Edited 2020-11-17 01:17 (UTC)

And this shit I can just .... order from CyberLife? Is there a less conspicuous fucking store I can get the same shit, a retailer? ( He pauses, for a breath, then starts again, to explain himself. ) Connor, I don't want CyberLife to find out where you are just to haul your ass back to their fucking lab and destroy you.

Do you understand what I'm saying? I won't let that happen.

[ connor stops and stares at hank, fully comprehending the meaning behind the words but perhaps lacking the ability to understand the emotion motivating them. but though that may be, he nods once, his lips parted, his eyes maintaining contact. ]

I understand. You don't have to order directly from CyberLife, but they won't know that I'm here based on that information alone.

( Hanks quiet. Paranoia works through his mind as he thinks about all the possible ways that CyberLife could know where Connor is. It's no mystery that he's working with the PD. If Hank suddenly starts ordering android pieces, that could be a big fucking tip-off. Yet, so could going to a retailer. Hank Anderson doesn't own an android. What reason would he have for pieces?

He might need to go underground for this shit he needs. He glances at Connor and softly nods. Hank can't ignore the time-sensitive needs for these parts. Either going to a retailer or CyberLife would eliminate the runaround. Fuck, he'll have to take his chances and hope Connor is right. )

Alright.

[ while the lieutenant thinks to himself, connor watches him. he can't imagine what's going through his mind, but he's curious because he has no other choice but to be. if he weren't so distracted, the lieutenant might find that unbroken attention bothersome, but it's clear right now that other things are higher on his list of concerns. ]

I'll need a piece of paper and something to write with. If you make the order now, everything should arrive by noon.

( Hank gives Connor another look over before he stands up from the bed. He steps over the leg and moves toward his closet. He finds a thick pad of sticky notes and a sharpie. He moves back over to Connor and sits down beside him. He offers what he's found to Connor. )

Thank you.

[ connor writes down several parts numbers in his impossibly neat cyberlife sans font handwriting. it's not clear what they are just by looking at the numbers, but when hank orders he'll see that the list includes one (1) right arm, one (1) left leg, one (1) filter that looks something like a human kidney, one (1) right torso plastic panel, 3ft of wire, and 8ft of smart plastic tubing.

it's a bit pricey, altogether, but it shouldn't break the bank.

when connor's done writing, he hands the pad back to hank. ]

Here. You have a laptop in the living room, don't you? Can you take me with you? If there are any parts out of stock, I'll have to give you alternatives.

( Hank takes the sticky pad and tosses it on the bed. He moves to his closet and changes his shirt. He shoves his pants and boxers down and replaces the boxers with a fresh pair, and then he pulls on some sweatpants. He pulls out a t-shirt and a pair of boxers for Connor.

He moves back to the bed and squats before Connor, offering the one foot the hole to step in. He'll then help Connor with the shirt. Only then will he take Connor to the living room. )

[ connor watches the lieutenant change without a thought for his privacy, resisting the urge to ask him what he's doing when it's obvious. his clothes are wet from the shower, it's natural he'd want to wear something more comfortable now that the immediate danger has passed.

but when he returns with clothes for connor, that's when he really looks confused. he quirks his head, but turns so that his leg is hanging off the bed anyway, his foot extended so hank can pull the boxers up. ]

I'm not cold anymore.

Yeah, but you're fucking naked.

( He pulls the boxers up to Connor's hips, standing afterward. He frowns at the fit. He sighs. The boxers might be a problem. But he for damn sure knows he doesn't have anything smaller to fit Connor's body.

He lifts his eyes to Connor's face. He fixes the shirt and helps Connor through the holes. ) It's the best we can do until we get you something that'll fit.

Alright? ( Hank grabs the notepad and pockets it. Then Hank gestures for Connor to take his hand. He leans in, puts Connor's hand on his shoulder, and wraps his arms around the brunette. He pulls him up and walks out from the room and to the living room to set Connor down on the couch.

Connor's a lot lighter and cooperative now that he has his dead weight off of him. Hank retrieves the laptop and sits next to Connor. )

Alright, where do I go?

That's true.

[ he can't really argue the fact. he doesn't protest being helped into the shirt (it sags on his skinny frame, worse so becasue of his missing shoulder), but the boxers only last as long as it takes the lieutenant to help him upright. without any hesitation, he kicks them off onto the floor. the shirt's big enough to hide his immodesty, although he doesn't particularly care himself.

at least, not for the moment.

as hank sits next to him, he turns his body toward him. their combined weight causes the cushions to sink, and his intact leg presses against the lieutenant's, which is considerably warmer than his own. ]

Go to CyberLife.net/Store. Then type the parts numbers into the search bar.

( Hank pulls the site up, puts in the numbers for the product. He makes sure he's got the right product, with Connor, before he adds them to the shopping cart. )

Are you sure that's everything?

[ connor pauses to reassess the list, and then makes a thoughtful sound before reaching across to direct the cursor to the search bar and tap another number into the text field. the site redirects to a page with wireless cards, and connor adds the first one to the cart before returning to the checkout page. ]

There. That's it.

[ the total price doesn't escape his notice, but he can only hope that it's within the lieutenant's limit. ]

What's that for?

( Hank caught the title of the product before it disappeared into his cart. He opens up the cart and looks at the list, finding the last item on the list. He clicks on it and reads the description. )

Wireless card?

Mine is damaged. I can't connect to wifi or cell signals without it. I can't speak wirelessly with other androids, either.

[ which, to an android, is a bit like being struck mute. ]

But it's not vital, if cost is a concern.

( Hank turns his attention to Connor. He studies the other's expression, then asks: ) You're not thinking about checking in with CyberLife, are you?

( Hank waits, with a bated breath. He had asked Connor to lie to him before, and he was asking Connor to be truthful now, but, would he know? )

[ connor frowns and his LED stutters yellow. if hank didn't have a point about his current questionable status within cyberlife, he would be able to lie about this. but he's in the midst of piecing himself together on a police lieutenant's borrowed salary, and he can only hope that they'll pick up the bill if he reports in.

but he knows it's more likely that they'll refuse, refund the money, and collect the parts themselves. whether or not he's willing to admit that to himself yet, though... ]

I should at least make the attempt.

( Hank frowns. He knows, realistically, Connor could find a way to report to CyberLife, without his help. Especially when he gets that arm and leg back on him, and fix whatever the hell is going on in his insides.

Hank has reservations about the wireless card. Furthermore, the whole package to be honest, because: )

And if they tell you to come in and be destroyed? What's the point of all of this?

They'll refund your money, Lieutenant.

[ connor directs his frown down at the keyboard, although his eyes find themselves resting where their thighs are touching. it's warm, and he likes it, although he wouldn't be able to explain what reason he has to. there's something wrong with this situation, and he knows there's something wrong with this situation, but he just can't quite grasp the concept. ]

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