Criminal Analysis {Connor x Reader}

Chapter 5

You went over the scenario several times in your head, wondering what you could've done differently. Why did he jump the fence? Why didn't he just listen?

Hank rolled to a stop outside of Chicken Feed, his usual lunch stop. He climbed out of the car, leaving you and Connor. The tension was thick and you ground your teeth.

"I'm sorry if I may have caused you any distress, Doctor," Connor apologized from the back seat.

You whipped around in your seat, facing him, "Fuck you," you hissed before turning back around. You ran your fingers through your hair, and your voice softened, "We're partners, and you can't be a very good partner if you're scattered across the highway." Before Connor could respond you exited the car, hoping to take your mind off of this whole morning.

You stood next to Hank as he greeted an old friend, tuning them out as they talked animatedly about gambling. You watched as Connor crossed the road glaring at him before moving to stand at one of the tables nearby.

Hank wanded over, two boxes in his hands while Connor carried your drinks. "Thanks, Lieutenant," you mumbled, taking one of the boxes from him. Connor handed you your drink, and your eyes met. The fire burning inside you was slowly subdued and you sent him a smile.

Connor leaned on the table next to you as you began to eat your meal: chicken tenders with fries and a large drink. The lunch of champions. "Your meal contains 1.4 times the recommended daily intake of calories and twice the cholesterol level," he leaned in closer, raising his brows, "you shouldn't eat that."

You snorted, "See, Lieutenant, I always told you you should've gotten the tenders."

"Everyone's gotta die of something," Hank sighed, raising his burger.

Connor continued, "Is there anything you'd like to know about me?"

Hank's response was immediate, "Hell no." He paused, "Why did they make you look so goofy and give you that weird voice?" His question makes you snort into your drink, almost choking on the bubbly liquid.

"Cyberlife androids are designed to work harmoniously with humans. Both my appearance and voice were specifically designed to facilitate my integration," Connor replied, completely serious.

You tried to hide the smirk that was forming, "Then, why'd they pair a fancy jacket with jeans? Seems like they wanted you to dress as offensively as possible." Connor tilted his head to look at you, but you were openly laughing now. Hank raised his hand for a high-five and you gladly met his hand with yours.

"Cyberlife hires some of the most renowned designs to make sure androids are as aesthetically pleasing as possible," the corner of Connor's mouth quirked up. You liked making him smile, even if it meant making fun of him. Your mind wandered, thinking about what Connor would look like in other clothes. You thought a DPD sweatshirt would suit him just fine. Hell, even one of Hank's obnoxious button-ups would be better than his rigid uniform.

"They need to pick a different aesthetic," you replied as you gave him a lopsided grin.

"Maybe I should tell you about deviants," Connor changed the subject.

"Yes," you sighed, "please enlighten us." You leaned your head on your hand, waiting for Connor to continue.

"We believe that a mutation occurs in the software of some androids, which can lead to them emulating a human emotion," Connor elaborated.

Hank furrowed his brow and held up a hand, stopping Connor, "In English, please."

"They don't really feel emotions, they just get overwhelmed by irrational instructions, which can lead to unpredictable behavior."