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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( Hank nods slowly. His hands move to his knees, ready to place them wherever Connor will direct them. His eyes watch the tubes pulsating thirium through Connor's body. Once again, he likens them to veins. )

I can do that, sure. ( He looks up to Connor, glad he doesn't have to do anything more complicated than that. )

Good. It will make this go much more quickly.

[ connor chooses not to mention the danger inherent in the procedure if he were to attempt to do it himself. the lieutenant already seems anxious about his involvement in the process, and making him nervous could cause problems.

rather, he gets right to it. by first closing the panel open on his stomach, and then moving his hands to his side, where his skin once again slips away to reveal the white écorché. but this time, instead of sliding the panel aside, he puts his hands to the plastic and presses down until they both hear a familiar click. the expanse of plastic from just above connor's hip to just below his armpit, extending either way about four inches, separates from his body.

he tosses it carelessly aside, indicating one of the boxes on the floor at the same time. ]

Would you grab that? It has the tubing and patch kit inside.

[ connor then reaches into his body cavity and pulls out a thick, plastic tube. it isn't currently flooded with thirium, and near the middle it's been nearly bisected, the cut ragged. ]

I'll need you to hold this. One hand either side of the damaged section. I'm going to have to cut it and replace the tubing.

( Hank watches Connor dismantle his body like a jigsaw puzzle. It was fascinating, in a morbid sort of way. It also looked and felt dangerous. Hank moves for the box that Connor indicates, and he pulls it up onto his lap to pull the pieces out from it. He sets the pieces between them and sets the box down on the floor, and shoves it away from him with his foot. He turns on the seat toward Connor and waits for the next direction.

He raises his hands to hold onto the tubing. )

How you gonna cut it? Do you need something?

There should be scissors in the box. If there isn't, I'll need to borrow a pair.

[ he can feel the warmth of hank's hands on the tubing. it's different from the sensation when he touches his skin, or even the plastic beneath it. the delicate internal structures of his body have just as many, if not more, sensors embedded in their plastic, for the sake of monitoring his parts individual health.

for a moment, connor stares. then he uses the nearest hand to sort through the lengths of spare tubing and something that looks like clear adhesive bandaging. he finds the scissors beneath the tubing. ]

Here they are.

[ connor gives hank a brief smile before raising the scissors to the tube that hank is currently holding in place. he snips once either side of the damaged bit and tosses it away with the discarded plastic, then chooses a piece from the tubing lying on the couch and cuts a length of the same size.

it takes a minute to align the tubing and apply the tape, but once he has, the "tape" seems to melt into plastic of the tubing, to create a water-tight seal. a few seconds passes, his LED blinks, and thirium fills in with a faint luminescence. ]

See? That wasn't so difficult.

( Hank looks around at the mention of scissors, and is glad that Connor found them in the package. He swallows and returns his eyes to the tubing he was holding with both his hands. Once Connor snips the cord, Hank gasps. He offers a quiet apology. Then tries to keep his hands steady as Connor moves to replace the piece.

He watches the pieces meld together, and his brows raise. He doesn't understand the science, but it was pretty amazing to see it work. He's relieved when Connor indicates it was over. )

It looked... I mean, I'm glad it's over... And you can't feel any of that?

I can feel it, but it doesn't hurt.

[ the lieutenant's hands are still touching him, the heat still diffusing into the malliable plastic. his body temperature is well within normal parameters, but perhaps because of the contrast, the touch is almost too hot to bear now that he has the attention to spare for it. he wonders if the lieutenant can feel the pulse of his thirium working its way through his body.

his brow creases, eyebrows drawn together. ]

Your hands are warm. I don't remember the technicians' hands...

[ was it because they'd always worn gloves? or was it because the memory hadn't been important enough to archive? ]

( Hank's nostrils flare as he takes a breath. He removes his hands from Connor's vein and exhales. ) I'm sorry, if it was uncomfortable for you, Connor. ( He swallows and his eyes lower to Connor's hand. He wants to hold it again, bring it to his lips and kiss. He assumes Connor's talking about the techs at CyberLife, a pretty good assumption he wagers. However, he can't imagine the setting - were they fixing Connor? Was he being put together? Were they replacing things? It was all set in unknown territory. He didn't have the imagination to begin to guess. )

You're ... staying right? ( He looks up to Connor, even though he asked there was a shadow to his face that dared Connor to break the agreement. )

It wasn't uncomfortable.

[ but he can't put a pin on the word that he would describe the sensation as. his eyes focus on some distant point for several seconds longer, but he comes back to himself when hank asks his question, and his expression returns to neutral. though there's a faint hint of surprise somewhere within the depths of his dark eyes. ]

I'm staying.

And we aren't done yet, Lieutenant.

[ subsequentially, he pulls out another piece of tubing that needs to be repaired. there's one more after that, and then retrieves a length of damaged wire, a flat ribbon cable, its frayed ends exposed where it's been torn. ]

Get the other box, and then hold this, please.

Good.

( Hank was glad to hear that Connor wasn't uncomfortable, and more so, that he was intending to stay. Though, he got an uneasy feeling when he said there was more to be done.

Hank had to trust that Connor would manage. All he had to do was what Connor directed him to. Which starts with retrieving the box. He pulled the box up onto his lap and then looked to where Connor was indicating for him to hold. He offered Connor his hands and waited for further instructions. )

We need to get you some clothes.

[ when hank takes the wire in hand, connor breathes in deep and exhales slowly. like before, his fingers feel almost too warm. almost as though he can feel the residual energy in his fingertips, the electric impulses running through his nerve endings. his expression remains carefully neutral. ]

It's true that this isn't appropriate attire to go out in, but seeing as I have no need to at the moment...

[ connor takes the scissors and cuts the wire much the same as he cut the tubing, ignoring the cold bite of the scissor blades, and discarding the damaged bit before taking a fresh length of wire from the box and cutting it to size. he then begins the painstaking process of winding each of the small grade wires peeking from the insulation together one by one. ]

But I suppose you would be more comfortable if I were dressed. I'll give you my measurements and you can find something suitable. I don't have any preference.

( Connor's words were Hank's secondary focus as he helps Connor with the entrails of his body. Once Connor sets the scissors down, Hank feels like he has room to speak. )

Yeah, you can't just walk around here naked. Sumo will lick your bum, and I'm not trying to see that. You know how dogs are. They have their own set of fucking rules.

( Then... about those measurements. ) Yeah, okay, I don't need your measurements, I'm not getting a suit tailored for you. Jesus, I'm talking about something from Detroit-Mart.

Maybe, after all this dies down, we can talk about a suit... Maybe. ( His eyes were still focused on the task he was given. )

[ one of connor's eyebrows raise, and his eyes drift toward sumo. hank has a point. he should probably dress.

as hank speaks, he finishes attaching the new length of wire, and then moves on to the next, which he also has hank cut a length for and hold while he begins the painstaking process over again. meanwhile, he considers the rest of what he's said. ]

Then I'll give you my shirt and pant size? Or were you intending to guess?

No, that's fine. That'll be fine. So, you really don't have a fucking preference for what sort of clothes to get you?

( He watches as Connor continues to attend to his task. )

Erm, anything... you ... can't wear?

No? I was never intended to wear anything but my uniform.

[ when he's done with the next wire, he quickly sets up a diagnostic scan to run as he speaks. there are still some minor internal issues, but nothing worth worrying about. they should resolve themselves in time. ]

Can't wear? In what way?

That's... boring, don't you think? Anyway, I mean, like, are you allergic to... anything, or does a certain material agitate your junk, fuck, I don't know?

( He was getting anxious and irritated at having to answer Connor's question, only because it made him feel stupid for asking. )

I don't have "junk".

[ he gives hank a funny look, only because he should know. the evidence is right there if he just looks down— but he considers the question seriously for a moment before answering in earnest, considering the fact that the lieutenant wasn't particularly familiar with androids. ]

It isn't recommended to dress androids in clothing made from loose weave fabrics, because the stray threads can cause faster degradation to our artificial skin. So it might be best to avoid pure wool, hemp, or anything else that would be overly abrasive.

Does that help?

Well, fuck me, I know that Connor. ( The question was answered by Connor's comment about his skin. ) I was talking about your skin... and shit.

( Even still, he can't help an obvious glance down between Connor's legs. He huffs and averts his eyes. ) Jesus Christ.

What's wrong?

[ blinking several times, connor follows hank's eyes with his own, peering down between his legs for a moment before he reaches for the box that contains his plastic. he removes it from the packaging on his own, his innards glowing a healthy blue, his LED still yellow. (warning him about the missing panel, which he begins going about the process of replacing. it slots into the empty section easily, and once it's installed, his artificial skin covers it so that he looks, once again, whole and unbroken.)

his LED returns to blue, and connor stands. he twists one way, then the other, and then his LED blinks yellow again, and he stumbles. ]

Ah—

Oh-shit! ( Hank's hands reach out to grab onto Connor, directing the other toward him rather than toward anything else. It was a knee-jerk reaction to which Hank wanted to try and protect Connor from getting hurt. He's ready for Connor to crash on top of him and his eyes close tightly - anticipating the impact - if Connor's unable to straighten himself up. )

[ connor recovers by catching himself with a hand on hank's shoulder, but he sinks down the rest of the way once he has. he misses sitting on his thigh and sits down between his knees, instead, looking appropriately dazed, his LED flickering rapidly. his head wobbles, and he braces his cheek against hank's leg. ]

Excuse me. I miscalculated the change in thirium pressure reinstalling my damaged limbs would cause. My thirium volume is down by... by forty percent.

( Hank didn't know the particulars of what that meant, but he knew 40% meant it was low comparable to 100%. He settles a hand on Connor's head, and pets the brunette hair down and to the side. A frown settles on his lips while he huffs. )

Jesus. So, what you need another 60% to be stable? ( He couldn't help but imagine Connor wobbling around the home like he was drunk. )

[ connor gives a sluggish nod and closes his eyes, his head lolling against hank's hand. "tired" isn't something that he can imagine, but if he had a point of reference, he would also know that this sensation approximates it. his eyelids droop, sluggish, and his breathing comes a little slower, a little deeper. there are no more leaks, so he won't have to worry about the volume decreasing any further and preempting his shut down, but... ]

Why didn't I order any thirium?

[ it was a glaring omission. he must be running at lower capacity than he thought. ]

( Hank lightly chuckles, although the noise was a facade to the real genuine intention to connect with Connor in this situation. He exhales and continues to gently stroke his hand over Connor's head. He thinks about the previous night and their conversation about following Hank to bed.

What implications were left to the imagination, and Hank's ultimate refusal to start down that path. However, it was clear to him how he felt about Connor and what he wanted.

Even though he said he would wait, it didn't occur to him until now that he didn't have any certainty that Connor would ever get to that place with Hank. That Connor regarded Hank in any way other than a familiar and useful person, someone who Connor could use as a resource.

Would Hank be satisfied if that's all he was to Connor? These thoughts put a frown on his face, but he continues to comfort himself with the gentle caress of Connor's soft hair. )

... Hank?

[ he hadn't responded, had he? or had he missed it? he pries his eyes open, peering up at him. the low thirium warning flashed an angry red. if he lost another ten percent he would be in danger of imminent shut down. his vision blurred, his reflexes impaired, it would be difficult to move, but not impossible. it was a little ironic, wasn't it, that giving him his mobility back would result in its loss for a second time?

his brows draw together in a squint, like he's struggling to focus. even through his hair, his hand feels warm. ]

( Hank is still, he even holds his breath as he peers down at Connor. Those beautiful brown eyes glancing up at him, they look tired... they look human.

Hank's jaw tightens. He knows what he'll do, what he'll say. He moves his hand down from Connor's head to the front of Connor's throat. He caresses the flesh over Connor's throat, strokes the length up to Connor's jaw, then down again to his chest. )

I can order some from the website. Just... stay still.

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