Deviant Behavior (Connor x Reader)

Quantic Dream

"...I should've at least stayed with you so we'd get yelled at together." You smirked, chewed the inside of your cheek, and your hands balled in frustration, "I just wanted answers.  I thought..."

"You thought, what?  You'd go up here and have a friendly chat with the androids who shot a clerk and broadcasted whatever it is you wrote on national TV?"

You bit your tongue.

"That what Special Agent Sunshine was bothering you about?"

You picked at your fingernails, scraping the dried blood and Thirium out from underneath.

"You're too damn good at your job, Miller..."  You frowned, "I keep telling you to stop asking questions."

"Kinda hard to be your wingman when I'm flying blind."

"This is a dogfight you don't wanna be a part of...Deckart didn't listen, and look how he ended up..."

"Oof...geez." The shoulders of his coat rose and fell, "Look, I'm gonna put this as delicately as I can.  You'll probably get mad at me for saying it, but I'm gonna say it anyway."

"Tch, what's new..."

The vinyl rim of his hat shined as his chin rose, "Deckart was a great cop, and an even better man, but he wasn't a trained and vetted Marine."

He wasn't wrong, but the comment did irritate you.  Still, you understood the point he was trying to make.  He was just so goddamn naïve...

"There are some threats you can't shoot, Chris."

He huffed through his nose, and looked off to the side.  The snow fell in uneven bands as the two of you honored a moment of silence, only to be disturbed by distant chatter and Chris pushing off his knees to stand.

"I'll take your word for it."

He offered a gloved hand.  Your palm slapped into his, and he pulled you to your feet.  You stretched, data pad extending towards the sky as your joints cracked and your muscles flexed.

You smirked, "10-4."

...

"SWAT just ain't my speed.  Too many rules and regulations." Gavin leaned on the railing overlooking the city, ashing his cigarette, "I'm perfectly fine with my office job that lets me shotgun my way through the occasional door."

You had your arms crossed, your weight held by the cold steel next to him.  His back faced the rest of the group, and you were a wallflower watching the CSI team pick the roof apart in the background.

"Shotguns are small game, Reed.  Imagine gunning down a flock of Bandits with one of these bad boys." Allen pointed his assault rifle in the air, the stock balanced in the crook of his elbow while he put another hand on his hip.

He was dressed to the nine in his SWAT attire; a cobra baring its fangs on his arm's patch.  His helmet was latched to his hip, an earpiece extending towards his mouth.

"Give it a rest, Sarge." Chris spit on the ground, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, "I've seen what kind of shitstorm Reed can brew up with a shotty.  He's got no business with a fully-automatic."

"Captain." Allen sneered as he slapped the barrel of the gun in his hand, rolling his shoulders, "I'm not your Sergeant anymore, soldier."

"You'll always be Sarge." Chris chuckled, "And it's officer."

"Heh, who am I kidding...We'll always be Marines, eh?"

"Semper Fi, my man."

They bumped fists, and you couldn't help but smirk at the comradery.  You wondered what kind of hell they'd been through to end up where they were.  Held a certain respect for them because their job, at one point, was to take care of it so you wouldn't have to.