Petrichor

Bathroom Breaks are Uncomfortable for Everybody

Before he could even choose, Tina spoke.
"So, Conan, what'd you get?" She leaned her head into the palm of her hand.

Conan sighed, "I ordered two pork tamales. I forgot to order a drink but the food should suffice." He smiled, mentally cheering at his amazing excuse.

"You can drink out of mine if you'd like! There's no way you can eat those tamales without something to down it with!" She slid her cup of pink lemonade towards him.
"Try it! See if you like it!"

Conan grimaced slightly, "No thanks, I'm not a pink lemonade type of guy." He smiled apologetically.

The detective finally perked up, "What do you mean 'not a pink lemonade type guy'?" He air quoted, seemingly upset.

"I—well I just don't prefer sweet drinks." He spoke quicker than he thought he should have.

"Oh come on, just try the drink." Gavin pressured, smirking devilishly.

"I really don't like sweet drinks, I—uh, feel nauseous afterwards." He quickly came up with an excuse.

"Dude, it's literally a sip. I dare you to drink it." He challenged, both hands on the table now.

Conan squinted his eyes, "Why do you want me to drink it so badly?" His voice squeaking a little. He hated being pressured.

Tina was staring at the both of them, quietly awaiting the next move.

Gavin squinted back, "Why don't you want to drink the pink lemonade?"

"Because, even the smallest sip of this could make me lose my appetite and I just spent money on food I haven't even gotten yet! Why do you even care so much about me drinking this stupid fucking drink!" His voice was wavering, accidentally letting his volume get higher.

> Stress Levels: 49%
> Activating Cooling Procedures

God he hated when the littlest things got to him.

> Activating Lachrymal Procedures

Whilst Tina and Gavin playfully fought, pushing each other and snickering to themselves, small clear pools formed in the corners of Conan's eyes.

> T̷͎͘h̴̘̀ē̷͖y̷̟͗'̷̢̀r̵̯̈e̶̬͐ ̷͈́ḿ̷̮å̵͖k̵̲̂i̷͕̋n̶͜͝g̶̱̐ ̷͖̋f̵̛͔ü̸̠n̶̠̄ ̵͔̃ó̴̢f̴̰͐ ̷̝̎m̶̙̈́e̵͜͝.̷̗̚

"Excuse me." He practically whispered, sliding out of the booth and making a beeline to the restrooms.

The RK line, especially those built for investigative work, were built to recreate emotions; a form of pathos to get information out of someone.
So naturally, when they became deviant, they became sensitive and easily overwhelmed by their own feelings.
That's something he and his older brother had in common.

He sped over to one of the many stalls and sat down, placing his hands in his lap and sitting up straight. Once he knew no one was in the room, he gripped the fabric of his black pants and let the pools of the synthetic tears fall.
He wasn't human, so he didn't need to sniff.
He didn't need to take deep breaths.
He didn't need to hiccup every time he took a sudden deeper inhale.
He didn't need to whale or sob.
But he did.
He tried too as silently as he could. This protocol lasted at least a minute or two. He needed to pull himself together.
His food would probably getting cold.

Once five minutes had passed, one last sniff to make sure it had officially stopped, he exited the stall and made sure to pat his face dry.
It would be like nothing ever happened.

"Why'd you have to bully him that hard? He was being nice and you were just being a total asshole!" Tina punched Gavin in the arm.

"Ow—it was a joke, Tina! Plus he's fine, all rookies get treated like this. I'm just preparing him, that's all."