“You read all that that fast?” Connor’s lilting voice inquired just as Hank finished downloading the last of the files and stored the newly gathered information away for later use, the man sounding as impressed as he did curious as the detective leaned forward slightly, propping his elbows on his knees and placing his tormented pen back between his teeth as he watched the robot.
“I don’t so much read as you’re probably using the word, Detective.” Hank replied stoneley, pulling back from the computer and standing up straight backed as always as he turned to face the detective, whose head instinctively tilted back a bit to follow the movement. “I’ve merely downloaded the information.” The android explained flatly, earning a thoughtful hum from his companion who removed the pen from his lips to tap it lightly against his chin instead.
“Could you read if you wanted to?” Connor asked after a moment, tilting his head to the side slightly as he spoke so that his curling hair fell haphazardly wayward and brushed softly over his gentle face as he twirled the abused pen between his thumb and forefinger, the sleek black sheen catching the light and reflecting it back in a series of sporadic glints as the item was shifted about restlessly.
“Yes, I am programmed with the capacity to read if necessary.” Hank replied automatically but then after a moment went on to add a tentative, “Why does it matter?” The android saw no real reason this skill should affect their investigation as it currently stood and reading most certainly held no pertinence to his programmed purpose of exterminating deviants as the android was already equipped with the capability to handle whatever weaponry existed on the market without needing to fool with something so insignificant as a users manual. (“Halt! Police! I will fire upon you, just let me read this booklet right quick!” - Was a situation the lethal machine had been programmed to avoid.)
“I don’t know.” Connor shrugged offhandedly, his lilting voice reluctant and perturbed as if he were picturing something unpleasant. “I just wouldn’t like not being able sit down and read something if I felt like it.” The detective admitted easily, gesturing vaguely with one hand while holding up the pen with the other, propping the thing up with his index finger and keeping it pressed securely against said digit with his thumb while the rest of his fingers curled over the base of the misused utensil.
“Read any good books lately?” Connor abruptly questioned before Hank could go off on a tangent about how he, as an android, didn’t like anything; the detective’s soft voice strained and forced, thick with discomfort and splitting awkwardly in places a pause shouldn’t be as the guy twirled the black pen through his fingers until it rested evenly between his middle and forefingers to beat the writing tool quickly against the table in an anxious rhythm with a series of short, hard taps.
“I was activated solely for this mission, Detective.” Hank pointed out blankly, wondering how the fuck he was ever gonna deal with such idiotic questions without slamming his head into the nearest wall every two minutes. “I’ve not had time to sit around and read. I was turned on, given a series of tests to ensure my functionality, and sent here.” The android elaborated coolly, running over his entire life story in all of two sentences only to earn a slightly dismayed groan from his companion in response.
“Gotcha.” Connor stated noncomentably, silencing his hurried tapping to pull his hands back into his coat pockets as his gaze drifted sideways and a muted frown came to rest across his lips, the man’s shoulders arching a bit before slumping in an agitated huff. A brief analysis brought back alerts of a rising internal body temperature, clearly visible in the slight flush coming to twinge the detective’s cheeks pink, and an increase in heart rate. Paired with the obvious signs of distress clearly written in the guy’s behavior, it wasn’t hard to distinguish the reaction as embarrassment.
Connor was trying to make conversation, A translucent notification flitted across Hank’s vision, the android easily coming to the logical conclusion once all the available evidence was lined up before him and the machine found himself wondering how he hadn't figured that out earlier, especially knowing the detective was already concerned over his awkward behavior as the man had it admitted to Amanda. It was a foolish mistake the android was disappointed in himself for making, he wasn’t built for such stupid miscalculations and vowed to be more aware in the future. Hank couldn’t fail this mission.
Thinking quickly, Hank scanned the man before him in search of something to comment on, looking to pursue the opportunity to further the task of Form Partnership With Connor that he’d carelessly overlooked. The material composition of the man’s jacket presented itself: Unhelpful. The level of grease currently existing in Connor’s hair showed up too: Probably not the best to comment on. The short, silvery hairs of a Russian Blue clinging to the oversized jacket: Perfect.
“You have a cat, correct, Detective Anderson?” Hank questioned sharply, the words coming out chopped and urgent in the android’s rush but any concern the prototype had about this deterring the detective was washed away as Connor’s disheartened gaze flew up to meet the machine’s own, chocolate orbs glittering with surprise as they locked with stormy blue.
“Holy shit! How the hell did you know?” The man gaped wonderingly, voice light and breathy with a sense of awe that seemed irrationally improportionate for the offhanded conversation starter. “Are you psychic? Do they make psychic androids now? Tell me your secret.” Connor pressed, scooching himself forward so that his wheeled chair rolled jerkily nearer as the detective’s amazed face twisted into a critical squint, as if the man were attempting to pry into the robot’s coding with his eyeballs alone.
“You have cat hair on your jacket, Detective.” Hank admitted slowly, feeling his lips twitch slightly before he quickly schooled them back into a hard line of disinterest and stoically adjusted the cuff of his suit jacket for lack of anything better to do.
“Shh, Hank.” Connor shushed softly, pressing a long finger to his own lips as the android stared silently at the human in a state of blank confusion. “A magician never reveals his secrets.” The detective informed in a hushed whisper, smirking slightly to himself before leaning back to bring the front wheels of his chair off the floor once more. Hank might’ve felt the urge to tip the chair into falling - Had he been human, that was. Of course.
“Tell me about your cat, Detective.” Hank prompted encouragingly, the bright white text demanding he Form Partnership With Connor blazing in the corner of the android’s vision and urging him to pursue the small talk to the utmost in consideration of the task.
“Her names Sakura and she’s an absolute priss.” Connor replied easily, smiling lightly to himself as a light blue arrow alongside the detective's name flashed into the android’s view. The man then paused for a moment, looking thoughtful and uncertain before beginning to say something only to hesitate halfway through and let his lips fall closed again. “My brother gave her to me.” The man finally added softly after a long moment, tugging lightly at the left cuff of his jacket sleeve and biting his lower lip gently.
Hank initially intended to respond to this new piece of information, however, the restless fiddling pulled the beige cloth up a fraction higher than usual and a disturbance in the pale flesh there instantly attracted the android’s keen eyes, a dark black stain of unnatural make marring the pale expanse of skin. The marking was tiny and mostly obscured by the large coat sleeve falling back over it an instant later so that the machine couldn’t quite make out what exactly it was and a human would surely have missed it entirely, but the HK800 model prototype was no human.
“You have a tattoo on your left wrist.” Hank commented monotonously, noting the small discovery with little interest but deciding it might make a decent conversation point nevertheless. Human’s usually got tattoos to represent things they liked or that were important to them and, statistically speaking, people tended to enjoy talking about the things they liked. “What is it?” The machine prompted companionably, trying his damndest to actually converse with the man he was supposed to play partner to but, apparently, the android didn’t quite read the “How To Befriend Your Dysfunctional Human” guide quite as thoroughly as he should've.
A quick flash of orange shaped into a sharp downwards arrow blinked across Hank’s field of vision, partnered with the word “Distant” printed in a heavy, bold font as Connor went still, all impatient twitching and restless movement suddenly coming to an abrupt and unexpected halt. “If you’re done with those files, we should go.” Detective Anderson stated flatly, already rising from his seat before Hank even had a chance to respond.
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