An Android's LED is the only outward indication of its true identity.
Connor had already had the time to read, compute, plan, and just about execute three of the different preconstructions he had formed in the time it had taken Hank to open his mouth, but as per usual, Connor's LED spun unpleasantly with annoyance.
Part of him- the baseline him- enjoyed understanding, analyzing, knowing.. but he found himself, post-deviancy, just.. wanting to listen. To slow down for a new perspective. Nines would think him deluded.
Connor didn't mind.
"-at, are you lagging or something?"
"No, Lieutenant, I'm sorry. I was just thinking."
Hank showed a disapproving look and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, like we need more of that. C'mon already."
Connor mimicked Hank's departure of the vehicle. At the location of a suspect, Connor subtly prepared his systems to be ready for anything.
For the exact sake of subtlety, Connor and Hank had come alone.
"Detroit Police! Open up!" Connor exclaimed following the second knock. He and his partner exchanged a glance.
"Behind me."
"Got it.."
As a nͨ͏̘͉e̞̘̝̜̮͂̈ͣr̦̜̬͍ͧ̊̏͌͛̐̏v͚̻̻̗̤̾ͭͩͧ̏͋ͨ͘o̫̗̓ǔͧ́҉s̰̦͓͈ͅͅ habit, he'd recently developed, Connor checked for his gun in his waistband, and felt a bit more sure.
Ugh those glitches are so a̞̹̗̳̠n̫̤͠n̼̞̫͞o̡̥̣͚̙͉y̝̫͓̗͉i̯̠̬͎ṇ̹̰̳g҉͎̮̦̰̞̙.
"You comin'?"
Connor left his mind palace and followed Hank; he felt ş̥̱̟͍̤͉̰̪̆̉͛͌̔ͩt̮̩͓͂͂̅̓͆ͣͦ̚͜u̢̢̯̟̯̜͉͒̑͌ͫͫͪ͝p̷̠̜̲̥͖͚̟̟ͦ́̈͑͑̃̂ͅi̳̠̟̖̫̼ͥͦ̔ͩ͌͟dͥ͛̐͗̈ͯ̍̇͜͏̳͖͙̝͍̰.
Ben joined them.
"Hank! On time again, that's great."
Part of that was Connor's doing. Of course, alcoholism and depression don't vanish overnight, but since Connor had begun to live with him some good habits have stuck.
They had been debriefed beforehand, some kind of android homicide and the woman who did it needed talking down.
Ben pointed towards the front door.
"Right inside. Been like this for an hour or two says she has a bomb and won't come out."
"Alright," Hank said gruffly. "Connor c'mon."
Connor analyzed the situation as they approached the front, Hank first as always.
It was a rundown, old house, and the woman hadn't exchanged dialogue with the police for some time. She was also a known red ice dealer. Connor was able to hesitantly deduce that all of this was chocked up to some stupor.
It was a bit of a hum drum job, but things had finally started to settle down in the year following the revolution.
The front door was ajar as the Lieutenant edged inside. No sign of the woman.
