Ch. IX

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"Good morning, mister Kamski." You greeted, waiting by the door as soon as he stepped in.

"Indeed, a good Friday morning." He smiled back to you and locked the entrance behind himself. You heard the rustling of paper before Elijah pulled out a newspaper from behind his back. "Here, (y/n). Finally some good news after all the casualties in Omaha."

Almost greedily, you took it from him, curious eyes scanning over the front page's gigantic headline.

"Yes!" You grinned widely, clutching the sheet of paper to your chest and squealing in an almost puerile manner

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"Yes!" You grinned widely, clutching the sheet of paper to your chest and squealing in an almost puerile manner. Your happiness ended far too soon, however, as you were reminded of a man you cared about deeply. "Oh, I nearly forgot about Brennan! Does it say anything about casualties? In general?"

Connor wordlessly watched, feeling his abdominal area clench in displeasure at the mention of a male name sliding off your tongue with such emotion...such worry. He didn't know what he was feeling, or if it wasn't just an inconvenient glitch, but he was certain he disliked it. Maybe he'd have to ask Kamski to have a look at his system later.

Elijah frowned. "Not that I remember the mention of casualties, no."

You readjusted the paper to allow yourself to scan over it with your eyes, however to no avail.

Firm, rhythmical steps clattered softly against the wooden floor as Connor approached you. "Allow me, assistant."

The RK800 positioned himself behind you, glancing at the piece of paper over your shoulder, which allowed him a clear view over it. His eyes darted from left to right with inhumane speed as his breath lightly fanned your neck. It caused a soft chill to run down your spine. "No, the word casualties hasn't been specified in this text."

"Okay, thank you, C-RK800. Guess I'll just write him a letter, then."

"If you don't mind me asking, assistant, who is 'Brennan'?" Connor desperately tried to remain professional, but it almost seemed like his voice and demeanor had their own mind. When saying that foreign, almost cursed name, his tone was sharp and unforgiving.

"My older brother. He's in Normandy right now, although he has been devised to the Utah beach, unlike you." You smiled sympathetically at the machine.

Oh. Those words, as if they were magical, had caused Connor's synthetic muscles to immediately relax and the tension fade from his stomach.

"Well then. Write the letter now and make it quick. And after that..." Kamski's eyes vigilantly scanned the room, stopping on Connor's face. "After that, tailor some clothes for the RK800. It's still walking around in the torn clothes it arrived in. Really destroys the calm, orderly ambience of this place."

"Of course."

Kamski disappeared inside his study, although the faint rustling of paper and moving of objects was audible. Meanwhile, you managed to find a piece of paper and to sit down at the nearest table you could find, already writing away.

Deciding it would be wisest to just shut down, Connor did exactly that, body and mind slipping into a slumber-like state.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

"Rk800, restart!" Connor's eyes fluttered open at the order, the first thing he had caught a glimpse of being none other than you. Holding a pile of different fabrics and materials in one hand, and locking the door behind yourself with the other, you stumbled inside the workshop.

Time: 11:26 am

"Welcome back, assistant." Connor showed one of his gentle smiles as a greeting. "How may I be of service?"

"Ah, hold these for a bit, would you?" You nodded at the materials in your arms. He rushed to take them from you, then waited patiently as you locked the door. "Sorry it took me so long, but I wanted to find quality materials for your suit. Sounds easy in theory, but...oh well, what can you do. The perks of living in a country at war, I guess."

"That's not your fault, (y/n)."

"I know." You shrugged your shoulders and guided Connor to the nearest table, gesturing for him to drop the materials on the table.

The entrance to Kamski's study opened as the man peeked over at you. "Back already?"


"I suggest you let the Android help you tailor the suit to speed up the process." Elijah added, and although his wording may have caused his sentence to sound like friendly advice, his tone allowed no disagreement on your side.

"Of course. Good idea." You smiled and nodded your head as your boss left, closing the door behind himself.

"Well, then, RK800, ready to learn how to sew?"

"My brain is equipped with a data processor which can analyze visual information in real time and allow me to imitate observed human movements almost perfectly, so yes. Technically speaking, I'm always ready to learn."

"Perfect. Watch and...imitate my movements, then. I'll show you what to do and where."

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

"Almost forgot to ask, did you finish the book?" You asked, brows furrowed and eyes fixated on the needle you pushed through the material.


"And? Anyone manage to surpass Pausanias?The philosopher you said you agreed with most, I mean."

"I didn't forget who Pausanias is. I have everything I have read so far stored safely on my memory drive. And no. No one has. About me guessing your favorite philosopher, however, I assume it's-"

The door leading to Kamski's study flew open as the man hurried outside.

"(Y/n), I've got to leave." He explained, hastily putting on his thin overcoat, preparing to step into the chilly Detroit night. Almost mechanicaly, you stood up to accompany him when he left. Connor only remined seated at the table. "I have an important meeting. Have a pleasant evening."

"You too, mister Kamski." You closed the door behind him as he left, then rested your shoulder against it, puffing air into your cheeks. That was...unexpected.

"Something wrong, (y/n)?" Connor asked, pushing his chair back and walking over to you to close the huge amount of space created between the two of you.

"No, no, I...I was just thinking."

"About what?"

"Kamski's always attending some sort of meetings or whatever. Meanwhile, I go home to my boring apartment every single night. I know I shouldn't be complaining, because he's the boss and I'm the assistant, but...I'm a human too, you know. I wanna have some fun too, go out, have a few drinks, I don't know. Maybe spice up my daily routine. Agh, sorry about my rambling. I can see why you wouldn't understand what I'm talking about. Let's just get back to work."

An idea formed in Connor's mind. It was stupid, dangerous, but it could potentially contribute to making you happier. "What if we finish my suit so I can wear something, and then I can accompany you to town so you can enjoy yourself?"

"'d do that with- for me?"

"I don't see why not."

He could clearly see why not. He just chose to ignore it.

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