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

[toyboy]

[ 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. ]

Comments

[toyboy]

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?

[heavymetalgears]

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.

[toyboy]

... 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?

[heavymetalgears]

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. )

[toyboy]

[ 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...?

[heavymetalgears]

( 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.

[toyboy]

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.