Connor remained quiet as he made his way down the low rising steps separating Amanda’s slightly raised office from the rest of the DPD, shoulders hunched and gaze locked steadily downwards even as they came to a halt just in front of his own desk and the detective all but dropped his body into the standard issue office chair. The man’s limbs hung in a manner that suggested a heavy weight pulled down upon them as Detective Anderson let out a low groan and brought one hand up to press two fingers into his forehead, massaging his temple in a sure indication of an oncoming headache.

Hank observed the behavior silently, taking in the slight wince that passed over Connor’s face and running a quick scan of the man to bring up a list of salt levels, body temperature, heart rate, and any other such pertinent stats that might clue the android in to the cause of the sudden disturbance. While water levels were a little on the low side and stress levels were admittedly well more than a touch over where their normal resting rate should optimally sit, the only mark of immediate concern were the startlingly low energy levels picked up by the machine's advanced sensors, calculations discerning that Detective Anderson couldn’t have gotten more than an hour or so of sleep the previous evening.

“Detective Anderson, you seem to be experiencing some amount of discomfort.” Hank began clinically, carefully detached as always even as Connor lifted his head slightly to gaze questioningly at the android around his hand still pressed into his forehead. “Your headache is likely due to a concerning lack of sleep but may also stem from tension caused by anxiety or being overworked as your stress levels are higher than optimal.” The android railed off emotionlessly, deciding the need to do so probably stemmed from the low likelihood that Detective Anderson would prove to be a useful asset if unwell. It made sense.

“Caffeine withdrawal at its finest.” Connor dismissed lightly, waving the words away with a casual swipe of his slender fingers as the man leaned back so that his chair tipped backwards and the front wheels hovered a few inches above the tile floor. “We’re just lucky I haven’t started shaking yet.” The detective snickered dryly, playing the concerning statement off with a dismissive joke as a restless hand extended out to the desk and grabbed from the messy surface a sleek, black pen with gold trimming on the tip and clip.

“If you’re feeling unwell, Detective, I suggest-” Hank tried to offer a solution but was quickly cut off by a quick shake of the detective’s hand, the pen twined carefully between two fingers and held back by the man’s thumb as he faced his palm towards the android and brushed off the unspoken suggestion before the machine even had a chance to propose a thing.

“Get a coffee in my hand and a cigarette between my teeth and I’ll be fine.” Connor assured easily, twirling the pen about his digits skillfully to bring it back into his grip as he brought the hand back to himself. “Just glance through the case files real quick or whatever you gotta do and we’ll go grab something.” The detective went on before parting his lips and fitting the end of the writing utensil lightly between his teeth, gnawing gently at the very edge of the thing as his finger tapped rhythmically at the unabused tip.

Upon quick inspection, Hank realize the utensil was already well roughed up by light teeth marks littering its once sleek surface, as was the case for every other multicolor pen scattered haphazardly about Anderson's trash pile of a desk and the android had to wonder how he’d possibly overlooked this now glaringly obvious detail in his preliminary scan.

“Thanks for worrying though, Robocop.” Connor added cheekily, throwing another eccentric wink the android’s way as the machine’s processors once again struggled to classify the stupid action. A cheery blue arrow plipped briefly into the prototype’s vision though so the electronic policeman took no issue with it.

“Strange to give me a name only to not use it, Detective.” Hank commented with the defrosters turned on to ease his usual cold tones into something a little less “I want nothing less than to be here in your company” to more like a “I want few things less than to be here in your company.”

“What can I say?” Connor shrugged humorously, bringing his hands even with his shoulders as he faced his palms towards the ceiling only to cross them in front of his chest a moment later. “I’m a sucker for the classics” The detective admitted lightly, kicking his legs up to rest on the edge of his desk as he leaned his body back to angle the chair dangerously.

“Is there an unowned terminal I can access the case files from?” Hank finally questioned flatly after a long moment, still slightly hung up on the preceding conversation but placated by the fact that there was some sort of solution on the horizon, even if it wasn’t the healthiest. Besides, it held no baring over the mission.

“No one’s using that one,” Connor informed casually, uncrossing his arms to jab a finger towards a computer placed atop the completely bare desk facing the detective’s. “But I’ve already got ‘em pulled up over here.” Detective Anderson offered easily, lilting voice dancing over the sentence in cresting rises and plummeting falls as if the letters were a ballroom and the words a beat no one else could hear.

“Thank you, Detective.” Hank noted curtly, offering his companion a stoic nod of gratitude as Connor pulled his legs off the desk and kicked out slightly to roll his chair a few inches back in offerance of the indicated computer.

“Just X out of Youtube and you should see ‘em.” Detective Anderson threw over the android’s shoulder as Hank moved to stand just in front of the terminal and jiggled the blackened monitor back awake with a small jolt of the plastic mouse. The machine tried to push away the grim images of what fate had befallen him last time he’d seen that horrible video as the screen buzzed to life and greeted the robot’s eyes with Rick Astley mid chord once more, Hank focusing instead on the new task at hand and moving the small pointer over to the bold red X in the upper right hand corner of the screen.

The android gave a sharp downward tap of his digit and the video disappeared from sight, the foolish page falling away to display instead a deep blue background marked over with pages of white print text and and image of an AX400 posted proudly in the corner. The android had apparently assaulted her master and stolen away the man’s child, attacking without cause and without warning if the information presented by the victim, a Todd Williams, proved accurate. Hank’s LED flickered yellow and the screen blinked rapidly through the remaining files: A WR400 who strangled a man, a WR600 who disappeared in the inner city, a WB200 who ran off in the middle of a job… The list went on and on.