The place Connor had driven them to appeared to be a rather uncommentable, squat building squeezed uncomfortably between two taller, more modern structures that towered well over the uncommonly understated exterior of the coffee shop. The small building’s exterior lacked the flashing lights and bright, glimmering shine of innovation dominating the current culture and was rather formed from rust shaded bricks with oak trimmings melding smoothly into the demure exterior with little contrast as most stores and restaurants capitalized on in this day and age. The only prominent piece of decor the building had to speak for in its entirety was a slightly askew wooden sign with the words “Jerries Java” printed across it in bold, black lettering that curled upwards on the tail of every a and twirled each curl of a j into an elaborate flourish.

Even the spelling of this bust joint was lackluster...

Connor was already pushing open the large, wooden door and stepping inside by the time Hank managed to fight his way free of the restrictive confines of the drastically undersized car, struggling far more than he would like to admit with the task of carefully unfolding his cramped limbs and pulling his large body through the crunched door of the vehicle. The android nearly let out a disgruntled huff as he finally slammed the passenger door shut with a keen note of victory to the way he flung the metal door closed and perhaps with a touch more force than was strictly necessary but the robot quickly reigned in any such frivolous reaction and forced himself into rigid motion after the detective.

The first thing Hank noted about the shop was the overall lack of light existing in the shady place, naught but a few dimly glowing, caged, hanging light bulbs and the occasional warm shaded wall lamp fighting back against the overbearing darkness threatening to swallow the tiny coffee shop whole. All of the furniture was wooden: The long oaken tables, the circular stools shoved alongside said tables, and even the low rising counter running the length of the back of the shop to separate the seating area from the exposed kitchen all proved to be entirely wooden - 100% oak with a resin preservative laid over top to prevent wear and ruin, according to Hank’s automatic scan.

The overbearing aroma of cigarette smoke and coffee flooded the android’s olfactory sensors, more of a plethora of data abruptly converging over the robot’s processors than anything but a tad overwhelming in its strength nevertheless. Hank’s systems flashed informative description after description across the machine’s field of vision as his programming fought to analyse the onslaught of data the instant it was made available: Nicotine, caffeine, sweat…

“Con-man!” A chipper voice chirped merrily just as Hank pulled the door shut behind him and turned to see the guy he was following leaned, elbows propped, against the oaken counter on the far side of the joint, smiling lightly at a younger looking male standing behind the counter.

The dude who had spoken had a kind sort of face, plump cheeks constantly cresting his forest eyes the slightest bit as a continuous smile tugged persistently at the man’s thin lips. Short ginger hair swept gently to the right and lay combed neatly flat on the opposite side of the shop worker’s head, paired with a light dash of gentle orange freckles splattered across the guy’s face to cross over the bridge of his nose and decorate his cheeks. A rapid facial scan indicated him to be a Jerry Cove, born June 22, 2013, no criminal record to date, and owner of Jerries Java.

“Hey, Jerry!” Connor greeted easily, pushing himself up so that only one elbow braced him against the counter as he reached the freed up hand into his coat pocket to produce his cigarette pack. “How’ve you been?” Detective Anderson questioned companionably, tilting his pack slightly so that its contents slid forward a bit before plucking a cigarette from the top of the pile free with his ring and middle finger while keeping the box firmly clasped within the rest of his digits, tapping the butt of the container lightly against the countertop to even the remaining items left inside back out.

“Good! We haven’t seen you in awhile.” Jerry replied, the familiarity ebbing through his energetic voice clearly indicating some previous level of friendship already established between the pair. This fact may have been of interest to Hank, however, the android was too caught up on the odd use of the term “we” to really analyze the previous discovery too far in depth at the moment.

“Sorry, Jer, Amanda’s really run me through the ringer this past week.” Connor sighed tiredly, pushing himself up into a full-on standing position to pass his newly retrieved cigarette to the opposite hand where he twirled it between two fingers and flipped the cap back over his container with the other hand before slipping the box away in the abyss that was his huge coat pockets once more.

“You work too hard, Connor.” Jerry scolded with a light shake of his head sending a few flaming strands of his neatly combed hair falling free of their proper place but the detective merely dismissed the comment with a light laugh that left nothing more to be said. “The usual?” The coffee shop owner inquired, already pushing back from the counter and beginning to move about the kitchen before Connor even had a chance to respond, indicating the answer was already well known and the question merely a polite courtesy.

“You know it, Jer-Bear.” Detective Anderson threw back easily, shooting the man a companionable grin and taking a few steps back from the counter, tucking his hands deep into the never ending black holes of his jacket pockets once more as he went.

“It’ll be brought out to you!” Jerry threw over his shoulder as he reached for a fraying burlap sack of coffee beans and dipped a plastic measuring scoop far into the shadowy recesses of the beige bag but Connor was already strolling away, the detective apparently frequenting the shop enough to have a routine already well established.

Connor aimed for a small circular table tucked away in the far corner of the shop. Two tall oak stools were pulled up alongside the wooden platform that rose well off the ground and the area was nearly shrouded in the practically lightless edge of the stuffy room. The detective gripped the round top of one of the wooden seats, carefully keeping his cigarette poised delicately between two fingers so that it wouldn't be crushed with the action, and pulled himself clutzily up the thing, all but climbing the stool with his foot catching messily on the bottom peg before resting solidly atop it and using it to boost his body the remaining distance to the top. It was ridiculous…

Hank raised himself up slightly with a simple shift of his weight to the front of his feet and placed his ass with much more poise and dignity atop the stool opposite the detective, letting his eyes scan over the place and its patrons the moment he was settled. Jerry apparently didn’t believe in windows as not a single one lined the walls of the shop but was a big fan of twinkle lights like one might see lining a carousel at a children's amusement park, the warm glowing things lining the ceiling in place of where a well positioned window might’ve provided perfectly adequate illumination for free.

A few misplaced crates of coffee beans sitting among the seating area rather than kept safely behind the kitchen caught Hank’s critical eye but overall there was nothing too negative about the place to comment on. The android couldn’t even find fault in the patrons, his atutomatic, rapid facial scans informing him few of the people milling about the shop had any serious history of crime, a few minor violations of smaller laws here and there of course, but overall nothing too startling came back from the preliminary assessment the android ran of the place. The worst Hank could find was a Ralph Camden, a blonde man with a long scar running down over the left side of his face to maim one eye and trail in a vicious, jagged wound across his cheek, who was responsible for stealing a house plant. Crime at its worst, truly.

“Fuck.” Connor grumbled unhappily, the words slightly misshapen around a cigarette clasped between his jaws and instantly drawing Hank’s wandering attention back to the man who was currently fighting with his dying lighter once more - Though, perhaps dead would actually be a better term for it at this point as, no matter how many times the man desperately struck his finger over the tiny, steel wheel of the lighting mechanism, the thing couldn’t be bothered to give even a weak flicker.

The android blinked blankly at his companion, watching the detective fight with the malfunctioning device fruitlessly for a few minutes before finally breaking off his analysing stare. Hank hesitated only a moment longer, face twitching involuntarily, before the machine finally snapped his fingers once and brought forth a small, burning flame that twisted merrily over his digits to cone skywards in a dancing blaze. The prototype policeman wordlessly extended the hand towards his companion, gaze carefully measured as unfeeling blue eyes met startled brown ones and Connor gaped unintelligibly at the robot for a pace too long.

A bright blue arrow gleamed across the android’s vision.

“You’re a savior, Hank.” Connor sighed softly, relief flowing smoothly through his lilting voice as the detective leaned forward to touch the cigarette still clasped gently between his teeth to the carefully controlled blaze, the small, orange flame flickering merrily to light the detective’s soft face in a warm, wavering glow that made his coffee eyes gleam under his long lashes and deepened the shadows below his soft cheeks

“I’m not a savior.” Hank replied stoically, watching the detective carefully as Connor raised chocolate orbs to gaze at him through thick lashes before slowly pulling into his own seat, keeping their gazes locked as he went. “I’m an android.” The HK800 model corrected resolutely, his companion dropping his ever steady gaze to look at some random speck upon the table instead, apparently finding the particle of dust to be far more intriguing than anything else in the coffee shop.