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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[ if he was in better condition, he might make a comment at that. androids didn't relax, not really, but it's difficult enough to speak and he's certain that hank is only trying to be helpful. the words i'll take care of you solidify the impression, once he's been safely tucked into hank's bed. and it's bizarre, to really stop and consider it, when before he had spent so much time in stasis at cyberlife tower, in a charging bay the size of a small closet. an android's comfort doesn't need to be considered, but the lieutenant is considering it.

although he's somewhat stiff in hank's arms, he still watches his face with some sense of expectation. he tries to imagine what would be the appropriate response to such words, but for all his advanced programming, he can't figure it out. ]

If that's what you want, Lieutenant.

[ for a moment he only meets hank's eyes, without saying anything more, and it almost seems like he might make an addendum to that statement, but— ]

I'm going to go into standby now. If you need me for anything, you only have to wake me like you would a human.

( Hank snorts, his hand comes to Connor's hair, and he brushes his fingertips down from Connor's head to his face, then to his neck. He gently tickles his fingers across the surface of Connor's flesh. It feels human, but softer and coated - like if Connor had just put on some lotion. Hank wonders about this "standby" business but is soon swept away by other thoughts as he imagines Connor sleeping, dreaming, and what it would be like to rouse him.

He imagines the sunlight creeping through the room and warming Connor's flesh with a bright light. His hair a mess and free from that comb-over Connor likes to do. Hank finds himself smirking, content to fall asleep with the thought of a morning Connor.

When Hank stirs, he can see the sunlight filtering through the curtains. For a moment, he lies in bed, allowing himself some time to stir awake. He also turns to look at Conner. The brunette seems to be sleeping. Hank shifts from beneath the sheets and sits up on the edge of the bed. He wiggles his toes and wipes his palm over his face. He treks across the room and out. He uses the restroom before he heads into the kitchen to find something to eat. After he finishes eating, he wanders around his house to find his cellphone. He sits in the front room and calls Fowler. The conversation goes as well as he anticipated it would. He promises Fowler he'll finish up the cases he's working on, but after those, he's going to be taking a long break. Fowler wasn't impressed with the sudden request for a leave of absence, and he tries to get more information from Hank about why. Hank bluntly refuses to disclose any reasoning to Fowler. After the phone call, he sits in the living room and turns on the television. Though he does a bit of thinking about what their next move should be. Should Hank and Connor go out of town for a while? Hank already expressed his wish for Connor to lie low. Hank then recalls he needs to order Connor some clothes.

He spends about an hour on his laptop, adding shit to a cart from a local store that will deliver to him today. He adds a few groceries and other household items before he finalizes his cart and puts the order through. Afterward, he makes his way back to his room to check on Connor. He sits himself down on the edge of the bed and begins to stroke Connor's hair. )

[ connor rouses, not at the first touch, but as the attention sustains. his LED flickers as his eyes come open, and he turns his head to peer at hank. the memories of the day before, freshly sorted in his mind, recall themselves to him. the lieutenant's rescue, his replacement parts arriving in the mail, his body whole and (mostly) unblemished now that the repairs were (mostly) completed.

he just needed to replenish the very thing that made him tick.

from where he's laying, he squints up at hank like he's still sleepy, somehow. ]

Lieutenant? Has my thirium arrived yet?

( Hank huffs. The first thought that comes to mind is Connor's self-preservation. Secondly, the way Connor addresses him, as if they hadn't slept in the same bed, as if there wasn't an intense encounter between them. Hank considers he's working from a different perspective. Connor doesn't share the way Hank sees him.

Where was that self-preservation the night Connor went out with the SWAT team? Would Connor just obey whatever a human asked of him? Despite what would happen to him? Does Connor feel like Hank is just some superior who has the power to delegate what Connor's next move is? Hank wants to believe there's more to why Connor agrees to remain here. Hank wants Connor to want to be here.

Hank wants Connor to feel for him. If Connor knows that, would his responses be satisfactory to Hank's desire, and how would Hank know they were genuine?

This greeting, alone, is a cold wash of realization. "Lieutenant" wasn't as familiar as Hank would have wanted. However, this is the genuine interaction he wants to keep between them. )

No, not yet.

[ connor can sense the disappointment. under different circumstances, he might even be able to guess its source. but the circumstances have currently conspired against him to keep him from acting in peak condition. he gives a lazy blink and a small, polite smile, a genuine as he's capable of being, before he shifts to sit up.

once upright, he lists to the side unsteadily, blinking hard, his LED shining yellow for a brief moment. ]

Then I regret to inform you I won't be capable of acting at full capacity.

[ he shakes his head like a human trying to shake off sleep, but it only makes him wobble. ]

( Hank nods to Connor's shake of his head. ) It'll be here soon.

I wanted to tell you that I will be taking it easy at work for the next few days, and then I'll be taking some time off. We can lie low together.

( Both of his hands settle on his lap. His eyes move from Connor's face to the soft brunette hair he had been exploring. )

All right...

[ peering closer, connor squints like he's afraid he wasn't certain of what hank had said. but reviewing it makes it obvious: there's no error. ]

What does 'lying low together' entail, exactly?

It means... We don't draw any attention to ourselves. We wait to see if CyberLife will be looking for you, what the DP is going to do... Fowler hasn't said anything about you to me, but ... I don't think he would. ( He pauses, wipes his palm down his face, then runs his fingers through his hair. It's not a seamless stroke as his gray strands are tangled; he hasn't brushed his hair yet. )

I'll need to feel the mood when I get into work. See what's going on.

[ connor presses his lips together, nodding at the appropriate moments. truth be told, it was difficult to imagine when he would be able to stop lying low. would cyberlife let him be, even if they had already given up on him? ]

And what will I do in the meantime? I have to serve some function.

( Hank tilts his head to stare up at the ceiling for a moment. He then looks at Connor and shakes his head. ) Yeah?

Well, your first function is to get better. Then we can talk about why you have to serve some function.

So you're asking me to do nothing?

[ he can't even really imagine doing nothing. he frowns, clearly unsure of these instructions, but never the less... ]

If that's what you want, Lieutenant.

I said, focus on getting better. So, if that means to do nothing... then I guess yeah, do nothing.

( His lips pull in a frown. ) Call me Hank. ( He straightens his head and looks forward toward his closet. He pulls in a deep breath, holds it, then exhales. )

I got some clothes coming for you too.

... All right, Hank.

[ but "getting better" for an android is different than it is for a human. once he has the thirium that's on the way, he'll be fine.

in theory. he gives another hard blink as he turns his head in the direction of the closet. ]

Thank you. Your clothes aren't uncomfortable, but I would prefer something that fits.

Yeah, well... They're not uncomfortable for me either. ( He snorts. Keeping the rest of the remark to himself. ) What do you want to do, while we... wait? I mean...

( Hank turns to look at Connor. )

Did you want to stay here or go in the living room...?

I'm going to have difficulty functioning until my thirium gets here. It might be best if I don't risk movement until then.

[ it would be foolish to unnecessarily risk the repair work they've already done; but as for anything else that they might do, he can't even envision it. androids don't have hobbies, and they don't relax.

his eyes flit aside, and then return to hank's face. ]

After that, it's up to you.

Right.

( Hank's eyes scan over Connor before he stands. He swallows and sets his hands on his hips. ) Okay, I'm gonna go into the living room, hang out for a bit and do a little work on some reports.

Once your juice is delivered, I'll come back, okay?

Okay, Hank.

[ he watches him a moment, and then he gingerly lays himself back on his side, his eyes lifting as though he can't help himself, can't help but try to study him in the moments he has until he leaves. his lips part, but whatever else he might have said, he suddenly isn't so sure of himself. his LED flickers, he puts down his head, and he closes his eyes. ]

( Hank pulls the sheets up over Connor's chest, and settles with a few more strokes through those brunette strands before he leaves Connor.

The package doesn't arrive until a few more hours. The time Hank had before then was spent idly on paperwork. He had hockey on the tube, but he wasn't really watching the game. Instead, he was zoning in and out of the documents on his laptop. His thoughts kept returning to Connor and how gentle and soft the other looked laid out like that on his bed.

Hank stores the excess pouches of thirium and walks six containers back to the bedroom. He sets them on the bed and sits down beside Connor. Once again, his hand finds its way to Connor's hair. )

[ connor's "sleep" is undisturbed, at least until hank graces him with his presence again. his proximity sensors adjusted to hank's unique way of rousing him, when he brushes his fingers through his hair (a bit messier than it usually is, now, from having his fingers in it so often) he blinks his eyes open.

if anything about him conveys sleepiness, it's probably due to the lack of thirium, but androids are constructed around these illusions. ]

Hank?

Hey. ( Hank has a small smile on his lips. ) They came. ( He pats one of the pouches from the pile on the bed. )

So, do you ... just drink this shit, do you need a glass?

Good.

[ there's genuine relief in his voice, which perhaps gives a clue to how he's felt about being indisposed for so long. connor sits up, listing forward, but ignores his unsteadiness to grab a pouch out from under the lieutenant's hand. his eyebrows raise a tick as he twists both caps off the top stems with slightly trembling fingers. ]

A glass won't be necessary.

[ he closes his lips around the larger stem, and sucks. on closer inspection, the pouches look a bit like IV bags. the stems even look like they're designed to be attached to that kind of equipment. but clearly, it's not necessary.

connor tips his head back as he trains the first bag, and then moves on to the next. ]

( Oh, god... He's drinking it. Hank holds his breath as he watches, in horror, the inevitable connection between Connor's lips and the blue liquid. It doesn't gross him out, but he was seriously joking. Though, now Hank can't help but compare the pouches to bags of blood and imagining a human just sucking away at the container like a fucking juice box. He relaxes soon enough; the idea of Connor refilling his systems via consumption wasn't a foreign or broken concept; that's what humans did. He suddenly feels a bit awkward loitering and watching Connor eat.

He wonders if that's how Connor feels watching others eat. Out of place and in this void of unknown. What would it taste like, what would it do? )

Erm.. good?

[ admittedly, it is one of the stranger things about android biology; they had been constructed with an obessive attention to detail to ensure their appearance of humanity, but their method of replenishing thirium is definitely odd if you compare it to the human equivalent. it's very likely why thirium bags were designed to be used in many different ways, both for the sake of convenience and to maintain "realism", in case an owner is too unnerved by the idea of their android drinking "blood".

but in his case, nothing matters more than replenishing his reserves. they had never been so low before, and he doesn't like the way it feels to be constantly on the edge of inoperable.

when he removes the stem from his mouth, there's a smear of blue blood on his bottom lip. it seems to take him a moment to comprehend what hank is asking, as he glances between his face and the bag in his hand, blinking. ]

It doesn't taste like anything, if that's what you're asking. Not that I experience taste in the same way that a human would.

[ he takes another thoughtful sip, and then draws it away, licking his lips. ]

I would offer to let you try, but Thirium 310 is extremely toxic to humans.

( Hank's brows rise on his forehead. He didn't really think about the shit being toxic to him. He was contemplating on having a dab of it just to know what it was like. Of course, that was just a thought, and he wouldn't likely actually do it. Maybe. He huffs and shakes his head. He can see the remnants of blue painted on the inside of Connor's lips, in his mouth, and he looks away with a sudden flush to his face.

His heartbeat quickens, and he tries to make sense of why he's excited suddenly. Nothing comes to mind save for the thought of potentially being poisoned by the thirium if he had tried it. Hank turns his attention back to the brunette. )

Well, there's got to be shit you don't prefer to ... have in your mouth... right?

[ hank's sudden increase in heartrate is interesting. connor considers for a moment whether he really was curious enough to want to try it before the warning, but something in his programming tells him it's not that. or it's not only that. but he doesn't know what it is, so he lets the question pass in favor of answering hank's. ]

No.

[ it's a blunt answer.

but he doesn't leave hank without an explanation, even if he takes a moment to suck down another long drink of thirium first. ]

I can analyze evidence in real time by ingesting it. Having a preference would naturally get in the way of this function.

Edited 2020-12-20 06:56 (UTC)

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