VOULEZ-VOUS
━━━━━━(●'ω｀●)━
"HERE'S YOUR COFFEE, CONNOR," you tell the Detective, a pleasant smile on your face as you place his coffee on his desk.
He glances up from his computer screen and smiles broadly, "Thanks! This is exactly what I need right now." He takes a sip from the coffee and hums contentedly.
You wonder how he can stomach something so sugary.
"Wait, what happened to your shirt?" He suddenly asks, sounding concerned, which is something you're not used to.
Smiling politely, you lean against his desk, "I spilled your coffee on my shirt a little earlier. My apologies, Connor. I hope you don't mind too much."
"Christ," he frowns, his expression reading sympathy, "are you okay? That must've burnt."
What? You stay silent. Processing. Why is he concerned about you? It's not something you expected... It feels strange. Once again, your LED turns yellow.
"Although my biocomponants are capable of malfunctioning in a way similar to pain," you begin, "the coffee wasn't warm enough to burn through my synthetic skin and cause any serious damage, so your worry is unnecessary, Connor."
He clears his throat, "Right..."
"Is there a desk I can sit at?" you ask, abruptly.
Connor thinks for a moment and scrunches up his eyebrows in a way that reminds you of a sleepy animal. After a moment, he nods his head and points to the mostly empty desk next to his.
"That should work," he smiles.
You nod your head in thanks and take a seat at your new, temporary desk. Connor gets back to work. You stare at him for a moment, analyzing his desk and surroundings. His workspace is very cluttered and messy, filled with little knick-knacks.
Colorful post-it-notes are stuck all around his desk with pieces of information written on them and photos of cute animals are scattered about, near the post-it-notes.
Some are reminders, like the one that reads "Don't eat seafood ): = allergy" or "sep 28th milk goes off" and others have strange numbers scratched onto them. As you scan his desk, you also can't help but notice the faint traces of dog fur on his chair.
"Can I ask you a personal question, Connor?" you say, interrupting his work.
He stops typing and looks over at you, his heart-rate accelerating. Again. "Huh? Oh, sure!"
You smile politely. "There are seventy-five post-it-notes on your desk which is an unusual amount for one person. Might I ask why you have so many?"
Connor's ears go pink in embarrassment, just like you predicted. He awkwardly rubs at the back of his neck and averts his eyes like a teenager that's been caught doing something against the rules.
"Uh," he stammers, "I'm a bit of a scatter-brain. You know, I once forgot I was allergic to shellfish and so I didn't know why I was breaking out with hives at last year's Christmas dinner and wasted an hour at the hospital... Uh."
You blink at him.
He grimaces, "Ah, yea. I'll stop talking now."
"Why?" you frown. "I appreciate your conversation."
Connor freezes. ⍓
His warm brown eyes suddenly widen with surprise and he looks openly stunned. It was like you had just told him something he'd never heard before.
You ignore his strange response.
"I have another question, Connor... Why do you seem so skittish around me? I've noticed that your heart-rate accelerates whenever I approach you and you seem very nervous. Have I done something wrong, or do Androids, in general, bring you discomfort?"
He blinks. You blink. The two of you stare at each other for a moment as he gets over his sudden surprise.
"I- I didn't think you'd notice," says Connor. He laughs breathlessly. "Um, I'm not very good at talking to pretty women, and you... Well, you're stunnin-"
A sudden noise interrupts Connor's words as Lieutenant Anderson plonks himself on his seat with a huff.
"Hank!" chirps Connor, a friendly smile on his face, "you finally decided to rock up, hey?"
Lieutenant Anderson grumbles, "Mhm. What's that piece of scrap metal doin' here?"
"Y/N? You haven't spoken to Captain Fowler yet? She's going to be working with us on the Android case-"
Captain Fowler's voice interrupts Connor (his second interruption of the minute), "Hank! Summers! In my office!"
Connor stands up quickly, obediently, but Lieutenant Anderson simply sighs, seeming done with work for the day even though he's only just arrived. He stands up from his desk with an irritated huff and ambles toward Fowler's office with Connor trailing behind him like a lost puppy.
You watch them from a distance and decide to further explore the DPD. You step away from your temporary desk and walk away from the main office area, keeping your head straight to avoid conflict.
As you make your way around the building, you take notice of the holding cells...
The Deviant from last night is in the one closest to you. Its eyes are blank and it stares straight ahead, into distant nothingness. It's like the Deviant isn't even there but is, instead, somewhere far away.
You walk closer until only the glass separates you and you frown. How can Cyberlife get the information they need from it if it's unresponsive?
"They're going to disassemble me, aren't they?"
You look into the Deviant's empty, white cell, and nod. "There's nothing I can do... I apologize that this has happened to you."
It averts its eyes. "I'm going to die..." And its LED circles an alarming red shade.
"What did you mean this morning... When you said that ra9 would save us?"
Instead of responding to your sudden question, the Deviant stares blankly ahead. "I... am going... to die."
You stare at it with a sense of helplessness. But you need answers and your only option is to question it, so you open your mouth and get ready to repeat your words, but-
The deviant slams its head against the glass once, and then twice, and then a third time, and again and again and again. You watch as its forehead caves in and as cobalt blue blood splatters the inside of the holding cell.
The noise it makes is horrible, the same wet thump sound that you get when you run an animal over with a car. And all you can do is stare, emotionless, as it self-destructs.
An unfamiliar Officer dashes into the holding cell to try and restrain the deviant but it's unstoppable. It continues to mercilessly bash its head against the glass until...
It stops.
Its LED is clear now and its face is deformed.
"Shit," curses the Officer, "it killed itself!"
You sigh through your nostrils. "I couldn't get any more information from it..."
Without uttering another word, you slowly walk away from the scene and return to where Connor and Lieutenant Anderson are standing by their desks, talking to each other in quiet voices.
"Connor, Lieutenant," you give them a friendly smile each.
Lieutenant Anderson huffs, "I'm not dealing with you right now. We've got a case, c'mon Con." The Lieutenant storms away with his shoulders hunched forward in frustration and Connor clears his throat awkwardly.
"Um, come on, Y/N. It's a AX400 Android and a little girl." He looked at the Lieutenant's receding figure, "Hank, wait up! I'll drive!"
He runs forward to catch up with Lieutenant Anderson and you follow at a brisk pace.
But your thoughts are preoccupied. Why did the Deviant shut itself down instead of letting Cyberlife inspect it? Didn't it want Deviancy to be stopped?
But why? It's a virus among Androids. It makes no sense.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: hey! does anybody have any feedback so far? :^)
what do you think of our reader? and her relationship with connor n hank? i'd love to hear your thoughts!