By the time Hank made his way through the security gates and out the huge, glass doors opening to the busy sidewalk beyond, Connor was already halfway down the street and standing alongside a crookedly parked, burgundy hatchback that looked well beyond its glory days. The man was fiddling with something in his hands and mumbling in muttered exasperation under his breath, glaring daggers at his own digits as his breath puffed out in heavy wisps of steam formed by crisp November air.

Though initially too small and obstructed by the detective’s fumbling fingers to discern, as Hank began to approach the scene the android was able to identify the item causing Detective Anderson’s apparent irritation to be a boxy, silver lighter, the bright metal of the thing catching the diluted light of the overcast evening and glinting joyously in the dim rays. The man’s clumsy fingers, likely made inept by the frigid chill of the dropping temperature, fiddled vainly with the thing, running sharply over the small metal wheel of the lighting mechanism to little avail.

“Come on, baby.” Connor coaxed softly, his voice carefully quiet and gentle as if he were talking to an abused puppy rather than an inanimate object. “One more time for Daddy.” The detective implored the lighter desperately, frowning deeply at the metal box as he fingered a cigarette anxiously in the other hand, rolling the white paper over his finger tips restlessly as his deft fingers rolled over the lighter wheel once more. The object gave a weak spit of flame that died back down the moment it was created, pulling a fresh stream of curses from Connor’s bitten lips as he flicked his finger over the metal wheel with renewed vigor, pulling the digit jerkily down time and again with little success.

Finally, however, after a final spluttering attempt, the lighter fooshed into a steady flame, the small cone of yellow orange warmth flickering and wavering in the chilly breeze but remaining strong long enough for Connor to clasp his cigarette between his teeth and bring the fire up to touch against the white paper end. “Thank you so fucking much.” The detective praised the lighter that was obviously on its last legs, sticking the thing back into his pocket as gray smoke began to curl up from the lit cigarette and trail away from the man in ebbing whisps.

Under Form Partnership With Connor , a prompt to Reconcile with Connor sprung into existence, the small white words urging Hank to approach the scene but hesitate a moment before actually moving to enter the car even as Connor pulled open the driver side door. “I didn’t know anyone still drove manually operated vehicles.” The android stated quickly, hoping to move past the lingering awkwardity still hanging thickly in the air between them by distracting his companion with new and better topics and commenting on the first viable option he saw.

“You should really re-evaluate how much you think a city detective makes.” Connor replied rather flatly, his voice not sounding as if it were intended to be cruel but most certainly not in its usual state of openness either. “Because whatever you’ve got in mind, you’re sorely mistaken.” The man snorted dryly before climbing inside the car and pulling the door shut behind him with a definitive metal slam.

Hank followed suit immediately, walking around to the passenger side of the vehicle and pulling the door open smoothly before carefully lowering his body through the metal gateway and neatly into the gray fabric covered seat beyond. The android positioned his bulkily built frame as professionally in the cramped car seat as he could but there was only so much one could do and with his knees pressing painfully into the glove box and his back bent uncomfortably into the too far reclined chair, Hank was certain he looked far from the picture of stoic structure he was going for.

However, when Connor chanced a glance over at the disarrayed android just before slipping a shining metal key into the ignition, the man stared blankly for a second before an amused grin ghosted tentatively across his soft features, a dim blue arrow peeking through Hank’s vision as a light snicker escaped the detective and the man untensed some as he finally pushed the key into the ignition and gave it a turn.

“I apologize if I made you uncomfortable, Detective.” Hank offered hurriedly, hoping to build off the positive interaction that had just occurred and use it to boost his way into reconciled territory. “It was not my intent.” The android added carefully, cautiously watching the man in the driver seat to gauge his reaction to the apology, sensors tuned to every miniscule shift of the detective’s muscle and twitch in his face. Though the only thing the machine was able to gather was that now that Connor had a cigarette clasped between his jaws, the restless movement that had dominated the man’s actions before had subsided immensely.

The car sputtered uncooperatively under Detective Anderson’s fingertips, rumbling weakly as the key was turned before simmering down to silence once more as Connor merely groaned in exasperation before cranking the ignition again. “Don’t worry about it.” The man threw back easily, rolling his shoulders heavily in a poor excuse for a casual shrug as the car gave another grumble of protest before falling quiet once again. “I’m just an oversensitive ‘lil bitch.” Connor offered dismissively, throwing a light laugh on the end of his sentence that invited the android to simply laugh it off with him but, considering Hank wasn’t even sure he had the capacity to laugh, all the machine could offer was a slow nod. Though, honestly, the robot was quite near certain he wouldn’t have been able to laugh off the deprecating statement even had he been human.

Finally, a last ditch turn of the small, silver key brought the stubborn vehicle roaring to life, the engine growling angrily as if aggravated at being made to work and determined to snarl out its vengeance until the day it could finally enact its carefully plotted revenge. The entire car shook with the vicious tremors of the dying machinery but the unwell sounding gurgle of the mechanical mishap was all but drowned out by blaring music suddenly blasting forth from the car radio, the noise all energetic, racing cadences and bass heavy blasts pounding out by the second as if someone had decided a drive by would make a good base for a song then proceeded to snort cocaine.

Hank’s database informed him the song was titled “Cherry Pop” by some guy who couldn’t seem to decide between numbers or letters when making his stage name but the android simply labeled it “Trash” in the privacy of his own mind as the information Connor listens to shitty techno music filed itself neatly away in the shadowed Connor Anderson section of the machine’s data storage unit.

“Stop judging me, Robocop.” Connor demanded haughtily, giving an indignant snort for dramatic effect as he put the car in reverse and turned around in the seat, elbow propped against the headrest and entire body twisted about to gaze through the back windshield despite how much more sense it would've made for him to just ask Hank to look.

“I’m incapable of judging you, Detective.” The android informed curtly, keeping his gaze carefully schooled forward as he straightened his back as much as possible in the cramped space and folded his hands neatly over his lap.

“And yet you’re doing it anyway.” Connor huffed pointedly, though there was a clear edge of light humor to his gently lilting voice as the detective turned back around and pulled the car out of the parking space. “I can see it all over your face.” Anderson informed the robot easily, gesturing vaguely with one hand waving pointlessly in the air before bringing the limb to his mouth where he carefully placed his first two digits atop his cigarette and braced his thumb against the bottom of it.

“I am merely concerned by the volume at which you’re exposing yourself too.” Hank excused whatever the detective had supposedly seen on his face, despite the fact that the android was near positive his expression hadn’t altered in the slightest. “Any sound louder than 85 decibels is potentially harmful to the human ear and can cause permanent damage if exposure is continued for any length of time.” The machine railed off clinically, pulling facts from his limitless database and reciting them with the confidence of a professional. It was really no wonder androids were beginning to take the place of many professions, such as doctors, that were once held by humans alone.

“What was that?” Connor called questioningly, raising his voice to almost a yell to be heard over the blaring bass of the song that only seemed to be getting progressively faster in its seizure inducing spastic sounds.

“Point proven.” Hank all but muttered, certain Connor would fail to hear him no matter how hard the android tried and not willing to waste processing power on such a fruitless endeavor as silence fell between them only to be filled by the booming “pop”s of the trash song’s main riff.

Connor sucked in a long, slow breath and gently tugged the cigarette free from its hold between his teeth to part his pink lips and carefully blow free the dirtied air in a gray cloud of mist, letting the dark tendrils ghost up to frame his face as he placed the item back in its proper place. However, the detective then let his chocolate orbs drift over to his electronic companion and conscientiously reached a hand down to turn the plastic hand crank controlling the window once or twice before a small crack was formed and cold wind whipped in to carry the smoke away.

“Your consideration is unwarranted, Detective. My breathing is merely an artificial replication of human respiration and is completely cosmetic.” Hank informed in a business like tone, voice raised to overpower the booming music yet maintaining a careful air of professionalism about it even then. “Though I would recommend leaving the window open in the interest of maintaining your own health.” The android added as Connor merely made a slight hum of agreement and gave a dismissive shrug before pressing his foot harder down onto the gas pedal.