Connor promptly choked on his coffee, a wet splutter bursting forth from the guy’s throat as he jerked forward and let the gagging drink spill free from his lips in a splattering mess that ran down his face and dripped onto his white undershirt to mar the once clean fabric with dark, brown splotches. “My what?” Detective Anderson coughed breathlessly, still gaping in a strangled sort of croak as he reached frantically for the small pile of napkins conveniently placed atop the table and began feverishly wiping his face and the table before him where some of the wasted drink had fell to drip sporadically onto the sleek wooden surface.

“Your account on Grindr, “ Hank restated flatly, his voice an even monotone even as Connor let out a distressed wheeze at the mere utterance of the name. “A popular dating app geared toward gay and bisexual men in search of other interested men-” The android read off, LED blinking a short burst of yellow to draw up an ancient Wikipedia page on the once popular dating service that had long since fallen from popularity as homosexuality was normalized and the need for such a specifically geared app was no longer necessary as other services began adding gender preference as a common question.

“I know what Grindr is!” Connor all but yelped, pitch and tone skyrocketing to match the man’s torpedoing heart rate as his body temperature joined the race as well before the detective seemed to remember that they were in a public place and smothered his voice back to a mangled groan of dismayed humiliation as more than one pair of eyes turned to see the cause of the sudden disruption to the quiet atmosphere.

“I would most certainly hope so, Detective.” Hank replied coolly, voice as uninformative as always even as his lips pecked up unintentionally. “Your account, xXTwinkBBYXx, was quite active back in 2024.” The android pointed out, LED cycling a continuous yellow as the machine brought up the account and leafed interestedly through the information listed there. After all, who knows when you might need to know your partner’s taste in men in your investigation? Well, that was certainly an interesting way to eat a popsicle.

“Please don’t ever let those words leave your mouth again.” Connor moaned exasperatedly, burying his face in his hands to hide the scarlet flush of his cheeks, though it looked like the detective might very well attempt to suffocate himself while he was at it. “Besides, all I found was creepy old fuckers.” The man added defensively, pulling his hands back from his face to cross his arms defiantly over his chest as he angrily slurpped a particularly noisy gulp of coffee. Hank never even knew someone could drink angrily until that moment.

“You did specifically state that you were looking for older men, Detective.” Hank pointed out helpfully, trying his damndest not to actually smirk when Connor’s heart rate gave another startled jump and kicked up to a whole new notch of embarrassment the android never even knew someone could reach. The robot should probably warn his companion to bring his heartbeat down to a more stable level sometime soon as a pace that high prolonged for any length of time could potentially be harmful.

“I meant like forties or fifties. Not 102!” Connor defended sharply, drowning his misery in a final gulp of coffee as he brought the mug to his lips and craned his neck backwards to catch every last drop before slamming the emptied mug loudly down on the table with an utterly disgruntled huff.

“Then you’re in luck, Detective.” Hank informed with a distinct note of purposeful positivity to his usually stoic tones as Connor merely gawked at him as if the man could conceive no possible way anything positive could be gleaned from this situation. “Cyberlife specifically designed me in the semblance of a man perfectly fit to your preferred age range.” The android informed professionally, the impassive tones he spoke with only seeming to leave his companion more frustrated as the detective all but seemed to power down for a moment, eyes wide and lips falling agape but no actual response or reaction making itself known across the guy’s slack features.

“Okay.” Connor breathed slowly after a long moment, letting his eyes flutter closed as he clasped his hands together in front of himself in some mockery of zen and drew in a deep breath through his nose before slowly blowing it back out again through his slightly parted lips. “Here’s what we’re gonna do.” The guy declared carefully, forcefully keeping his voice impressively even and controlled even as his heart rate pounded out a sporadic cadence in the corner of Hank’s vision.

“I’m just gonna get back in my car, delete that profile I’d gladly forgotten about, and pretend I never heard a word of that.” Connor stated slowly, cautiously lowering himself from the stool with a soft thump as his feet hit the floor and beginning to make his way toward the door without giving Hank a chance to respond.

“I can simply erase our previous conversation from my memory if that pleases you, Detective Anderson.” The android offered, pushing off his own seat to fall in pace behind his companion who was currently engaging in an intense stare off with the floorboards and appeared to be winning.

“No.” Connor muttered immediately, his lilting voice wavering with keen notes of embarrassment tugging at the word but certain nevertheless. “Just, pretend.” The detective encouraged with a tired sigh, extending a hand out to grasp the large wooden handle of the oaken door as Hank simply nodded his agreement and followed along. Pretending was a healthy coping mechanism in comparison to the rest of Connor’s habits left sitting on the table behind him.

“Con!” A chipper voice halted the pair’s retreat just as they were about to finally take leave of the dingy coffee shop, because normalcy just was far too good to be a constant in Hank’s short life.

“Hey, Jerry!” Connor greeted enthusiastically, letting his hand drop from the door handle to turn around where the coffee shop worker yet stood, grinning widely at the detective with a mop in hand and sweat from the tedious work sticking his ginger hair against the markless skin of his pale right cheek where it was swept carefully towards.

Cove, Jerry. Birth date: June 22, 2013. Criminal record: None. Owner of Jerries Java. Proudly read the results of Hank’s desperate facial scan as a now all too familiar “How’ve you been?” spilled forth from Connor’s lips for the third time that hour alone.

“Good! We haven’t seen you in awhile.” Jerry answered lightly, Connor stepping forward to grasp the guy’s free hand and tug him into a boyish shoulder bump of friendship as Hank calculated the probability of mental instability for both humans as a steady “98.7%”

“Sorry, Jer, Amanda’s really run me through the ringer this past week.” Connor admitted with an awkward laugh and Hank took a careful step back from the obviously disturbed pair, already beginning to pull up the form to report a case of insanity to the local authorities so that these men could get the help they clearly needed.

“You work too hard, Connor.” Jerry huffed disapprovingly, shaking a scourging finger at the detective as Connor gave a jovial roll of his coffee eyes and merely waved the concerned words off with a vague gesture of his left hand, digits curling through the air as the raising of the limb caused the man’s large jacket sleeve to slip a tad bit lower than usual; but Hank was unable to catch another glimpse of the elusive tattoo as the detective lowered the hand once more in an instant and the huge sleeve slid back into its usual place, swamping the better portion of Connor’s wrists and the beginnings of his hand.

“How goes the cooking classes? Getting any better?” Detective Anderson asked casually, smiling lightly at the man before them as if this bout of craziness were an everyday occurrence not worth batting an eye over.

“I made myself a bowl of cereal yesterday and didn’t burn it quite so bad.” The ginger male informed proudly, beaming excitedly so that his green eyes crested up in happy hillsides as Connor delivered him a hearty pat on the back of congratulation. “And what about you, Con? Finally nailed yourself a sugar daddy?” The coffee shop owner teased jovially, digging a playful elbow into the detective’s side as Connor merely gave an awkward laugh and shoved the guy gently, though Anderson’s heart rate did give a small flicker at the well aimed jest.

“You know I’m not that lucky, Jer.” Connor dismissed with a satirical snort, crossing his arms over his chest and giving his chocolate eyes a long roll for good measure. “Hank here is just stuck with me for a case.” The detective informed, halting the android in his hurried process of trying to find the correct paperwork to send for this issue long enough to give the equally unstable man a curt nod of greeting which was returned with a pitying smile.

“I am so sorry, you poor, poor man.” Jerry conceded gently, reaching out an arm to lightly pat the android’s shoulder and gazing at the machine as if he were under the impression someone had just ran over Hank’s puppy with a lawn mower.

“Ay, fuck you, Jerry!” Connor cursed jovially, flipping the store worker a quick middle finger before giving an indignant snort and turning towards the door once more to pull the thing open and let the glaring sunlight flood the grim darkness of the shop. Hank was honestly surprised a few of the patrons didn’t actually hiss, especially given the way Connor himself recoiled from the blazing glow, shrinking back slightly and shielding his eyes with his hand as if he hadn't seen the light of day in years.

“See you, Jerry!” The detective paused to call back over his shoulder just as he stepped fully out into the burning light basking the pale sidewalk beyond, still holding the thick wooden door open with his hand and yelling far louder than need be considering Jerry was still standing right inside the doorway.

The ginger male still holding the mop extended his fingers from the wooden pole of the thing in a small wave and Hank eagerly surged forward to escape this hellish nightmare of a shop when… Jerry popped up from the counter, apparently having been bent down to store some stuff below the cash register.

“Bye, Con-Man!” The new - or maybe the original? - Jerry called from his place behind the counter, leaving Hank to snap his gaze from one mirror image to the other when abruptly his wild processing was suddenly brought to a tire squealing halt by a third chime in.

“Good luck, Connor!” Jerry threw in, stepping out of the bathroom and adjusting his serving apron lightly as he spoke, lifting his gaze to throw the detective and his confused android accomplice a friendly wave that Connor returned easily before finally leading Hank out into the street.

Hank followed silently, trailing Connor with his LED blazing a flashing yellow as he ran through the city database and pulled up the files he was looking for… The files came through, blinking transparently into the machine’s vision as he opened the passenger side door and cast a final glance back at the coffee shop, gaze fixing to the “Jerries Java” sign hanging slightly askew above the door.

Fucking triplets.

“Yep, best coffee shop in town.” Connor conceded lightly from beside the android as Hank settled himself as best he could into the passenger seat and turned to take in the amused glimmer lighting his companion’s eyes and the knowing smile painted across the human’s lips.