systolicarray | ://the billboard said "the end is near"

[ if he had taken the time to imagine how this body might be destroyed (and he had, occasionally) the highest prospect on the list would have been workplace incident. he was at risk for being shot, stabbed, or otherwise injured on a day to day basis. his body had been destroyed once before, and nearly several times after. he had fallen from a skyrise, he had been shot, he'd had essential parts removed with the intention to kill.

this danger was so commonplace he hardly thought about it, although he worried from time to time what hank would do if something happened to him. even now that he had deviated and was living a life of his choosing, it was simply the way things had to be. he enjoyed his career. he was proud of what he did.

so, when that isn't how it happens, he's surprised—

he's laughing at something hank's said just as the self-driving car riding next to them slips on the icy road. it clips the car. the car struggles to compensate and swerves in a long sideways arc, which ends when it smashes into the concrete embankment.

it's over in an instant.

connor is dead before the EMS arrive. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I had to go talk to Folwer to find out where you were, but then I left. My overarching order is to resume employment there, but they didn't give me any specifics.

[ which gives him a startling amount of freedom, as a non-deviant android. on the other hand, it also puts him in a rather vulnerable position. before, when he was attached to the investigation on deviancy, cyberlife had prioritized closing the case above all else. he could do almost anything, as long as it meant he might complete his mission. now, though, he can't hide behind cyberlife. he has to follow his surperiors' orders. whether that superior is fowler, hank, or even gavin.

he's considering warning hank about this when he brings up the medication, which stops him short. connor cocks his head. ]

I have them. Are you in pain? You shouldn't need another dose already.

Yeah, I'm in pain.

( Hank watches Connor carefully, wondering what he'll do. Another dose isn't going to risk anything, save for the growing dependency on opiates. Hank was at high risk of addiction anyway, given his history of smoking and drinking. His brows furrow. )

Are you going to return then to the department and work with a new partner?

[ connor hesitates, but he takes the bottle and metes out half of the normal instructed dosage, cradling the pills in the palm of his hand. then he stands from his seat. however, he doesn't help him to take it just yet, pausing in the wake of the question asked. ]

No. You're my partner. If I'm ordered to return, I will, but in a lessened capacity. I would rather stay here, though.

( Hank's eyes could barely lift to Connor as the hand before him holds the release he needed from the pain. He was short and irritated with responding to Connor's answer. ) Well you never fucking listened to me. ( He can imagine Connor listening to anyone else. No matter what Connor wants, what Hank wants... )

Fowler might assign you a new partner.

I never listened to anyone else, either. I'll have to talk to Fowler.

[ connor steps around the table to get a glass of water from the kitchen, and then returns to hank's side to help him take the half dosage. what will he do if he's assigned a new partner? he knows that before, he would have outright refused. he won't have that luxury now, unless he deviates before he's put in that position. but here, now, like this, it's hard to imagine being any different.

and being deviant— was that really any different than this? is it a result of the way he was programmed? do other androids feel this way, too? ]

Just because I'm not a deviant doesn't mean I'm not capable of wanting things for myself.

Yeah. ( Hank says, in gratitude for the dose. He opens his mouth for Connor to drop the pills into his mouth and follows up with a few heavy gulps. He can already imagine the calm that's soon to come. He's ready to relax, to melt into the oblivion of general apathy for anything and anyone - including himself. Hank huffs and stretches back into the couch.

He eyes Connor. )

And what do you want for yourself?

I want to stay here. I want to stay with you.

[ there's just a tinge of uncertainty— like despite saying so, he doesn't entirely understand it himself. what else can he possibly imagine himself doing? he can't return to being cyberlife's good little robot, even if they would welcome him back with open arms the moment they realized he'd make quite the effective double agent. but he can't forget what he's seen. he knows what would happen to him if he took that path.

and he knows what would happen to hank, too.

connor crosses his arms across his chest. ]

Is that a problem?

No.

( In fact, that's exactly what Hank wants. The feelings he has for Connor are complicated. He had about figured out how he felt about Connor before he passed, but he can't feel that connection with Connor now.

Something was missing, or he was stubborn, or it could be something else that he hadn't figured out. Hank would love to figure it out, and there were times when he thought he found clarity to the issue, but he hadn't settled on anything just yet. Except, he did consider he wouldn't truly know until Connor deviates. It even seems like Connor had accepted this as fate. Only a matter of time until Connor does. Hank wonders how long it'll take and if he'll have the patience to wait it out. )

Stay here with me.

... Okay.

[ sometimes he wonders. it's only been a day, but hank doesn't seem all that receptive to him. has he done something wrong? well, clearly. he isn't acting the way he would have before. but isn't this just a transitional phase? an a to b process? it's what he wants to think, he knows. there's no guarantee that anything will be the same. even if he were exactly as he was, the trauma hank experienced would be enough to set anyone back.

and he wasn't even all that confident in his recovery before. no matter how much he wanted to be.

his eyes drift from where they had settled on the floor to his corpse on the couch. how furious would hank be if he got him presentable without his help? during the night when he was asleep? the longer it's here, the more he wants it gone. ]

Is there anything I can do to help?

Huh?

( The fog was already settling in. It didn't matter if the opiates had started streaming through his blood flow. The mere fact that he had swallowed them was enough psychological comfort that his mind shifts its focus away from the pain, away from anything. Hank blinks at Connor, and his eyes trail the height from Connor's brunette hair down to his waist. Hank blinks away. He can feel a numbness overcoming him, and he gives a small noise from the back of his throat.

He was feeling much better now. )

Yeah... Make yourself comfortable. ( His eyelids began to slowly blink before they close. He tilts his head back to the couch and exhales. )

[ it's strange, when connor considers that request, and comes to realize that he doesn't know if he can. but he can try, or at least create the appearance of trying. his gaze darting away, he sits down in the chair by the window again, trying not to sit so stiffly, although it was always a bit difficult for him to do, even before, unless he was particularly excited about something.

he can't imagine that now, either.

he's silent for a while, but he just can't help himself. ]

Is there anything else...?

( Hank considers the question a moment. He wants to hear something nice. Maybe something that'll help take him out of the moment with some pleasant imagination. )

Tell me something good.

Like... A story?

[ he imagines pulling up a book from his database and reciting it aloud; not a terrible idea, but he isn't sure if that's what hank means when he says it. focusing on a story, on dialogue, might be difficult for him as he is now. but if that's not the kind of distraction he wants in telling, then what?

what's "good"?

connor searches his memory for some clue, but he has a limited purview. the newsfeed, the police database, they rarely tell him anything that a person would like to hear. still, he scours both, despite his hopelessness.

and, despite his pessimism, he does come up with something after a moment. his expression lightens. ]

The case you were working on before this, with the Cynthia girl? Ben and Chris were assigned to take it over. They found her sister, and it looks like she'll be fine. Ben wrote Chris a glowing commendation for his assistance. It looks like he's well on his way to making detective.

://the billboard said "the end is near"

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