A glimpse of dawn~ connor x reader dbh

5

"smoking a lot of cigarettes lately,
but inside your just a little baby."

-i am not a robot, MARINA

y/n pov-

"Who was the man you were talking about, the one man your scared of? Is he the reason your hurt?"

I swallow, my throat suddenly feeling like it has a million lumps. I stare down, not daring to make any sort of contact. "Connor, that is something that I shouldn't have said, and I feel a little unprofessional answering that question."

I finish making my coffee, taking a quick gulp. "So if you would excuse me, please-" I mutter, shoving myself away from him and practically sprinting to my desk.

When I turn to look back, he looks confused.

I think cyber life missed a few social cues in their programming.

"What's got you pissing up a rock?" Chris asks, almost as soon as I plop down into my chair.

"Nothing, Chris." I say, trying to sound as normal as possible. I lean back, sighing. Suddenly, the day feels a lot longer. "You sure?" He responds, " You seem a little.. off. Were they out of the good stuff?"

I smile, turning my chin to face him. "This isn't drugs. Making me out to sound like that dead guy, Ortiz? Something." I take a sip of my drink, the warmth running down my throat.

"You have no respect for the dead." He laughs, his eyes going wide.

I lift my hands up, twirling them. "Look Chris, dead people are more concerned about their families. If he even heard me, what's he gonna do? Haunt me? I'm so spooked."  I shiver, pretending like I just got jump scared.

"Yes he will. If you come to me crying one day about how you keep seeing shadow people, then I am going to do NOTHING to help you."

I sigh, lifting my back upwards so I can continue my work. "Sure, sure you will."

That night, I go to the bar for a drink. I needed a comfort place, this time. I wasn't there to get drunk to the point where I would be on the verge of death, no. I just wanted a refresher.

I hope that's progress.

I open the door, the familiar chime ringing in my ears. "Hey, Y/N!"

"Hey, Jimmy." I say, stumbling. I practically slip into a seat, lost in thought. "Can I- I- I just want- God, just get me some wine or something."

He chuckles, "You already sound drunk."

"Funny."

He turns around as quick as he had done a minute before, already having my cup ready. "Damn Jim."

He gives me finger guns, "I've been working on my speed."

I take a sip, feeling the refreshing mix of calm and memories. "I can see that." I let my arms sink into the table, my body slouched but comfortable.

He turns to serve another customer, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

My terrible, funny, happy, sad, hopeful thoughts. A healthy dose of "I hate myself" and "I'm hot as shit". My shirt folds under me, the fabric brushing against my face as I lean my head down slightly.

All the sudden, it's like my senses are opened. I feel every movement, I hear every drunken man, and I am in tune with my feelings. That's a new one.

Although I can't seem to escape some thoughts.

i wonder how my pup is doing..
i wonder how hideous i look right now.
am i even good enough for my job?
do i deserve everything i get?