New Jericho isn't near as dark and damp as it used to be on the old, abandoned ship. Their facility is clean, decorated, it even holds some pretty nifty tech for an "office". Its back rooms have also been a home for many lost deviants unsure of what to do now that they'd opened their eyes and torn away from their programmed instructions. For the most part, there's absolutely nothing intimidating about a single inch of this place in it's not-so-industrial appeal. Even the color of the walls, a commonly bland shade of eggshell white, offers a little more professional appeal than the rigid ship did.
Presumably, there's really no element of intimidation here anymore. Except for when Connor walks in. A few deviants regularly peer to the side when he steps inside, avoiding all eye contact with the ex-deviant hunter before promptly disappearing without a word, and if they do speak, they spill out gaudy excuses. North wonders what their experiences with him must have been like. According to the stories, he was quite feared during the revolution when everyone began to recognize his stature as the hunter.
And yet… he's nothing like that past image they paint with their rumors today. He pays mind to his business alone, leaves when he's finished, doesn't bother anyone. From what she can tell, deviancy has quite possibly taken a lot of his scare factor away. And if it really has, why are they all still so frightened? Whoever he was before waking up still has them shook. She really wants to know now, has to know….
So North watches him from across the room every day, devising ways to approach him without being awkward. Not gawking. Not even stalking. Just observing… Sure, Connor's smiled now and then, but it's always so… polite, too polite, as if it's just for mannerism. If anything, she thinks he just blends in more, especially his worn brown leather jacket and blue jeans keeping any intimidation at bay.
Today's likely to hold the same quiet nature, so North lounges carelessly on a chair, wondering why time feels like it's going so much slower than usual. That's probably the boredom setting in. She sighs in defeat at the silence that today has to offer yet again, almost ready to dip out until something more exciting comes along. Before she can set the idea in motion, Markus appears around a corner and walks up to her with a look of question in his eyes.
"North, have you seen Connor? He's usually in by now, and I can't get in touch with him."
A glance at the round clock on the wall tells her it's later than she thought and… ohhhh my, has Mr. Perfect (though she uses the word more out of satire than anything else) actually missed his A+ attendance streak? This is so purely ironic, such a small, amusing mark of imperfection! Connor isn't always at the top of his game after all. His deviancy actually has some imperfection!
With a shrug, North answers , "Nah, not a clue where he is." Does it really matter? His days of flawlessness are tainted and he's going to have to show for it at some point! This is the kind of excitement she wants. Trouble, defiance…
Markus doesn't sound so concerned, though. "If you see him, let me know, okay?"
North grunts to herself as he brushes it off like dust in the wind. "Yeah, will do…" If Markus won't bust Connor's chops, SHE will! It'll hopefully rouse some amusing reaction.
Ten minutes later, the doors open and in comes their belated detective…
Wait. Wait, wait! That's definitely not his usual get-up. He's wearing something much more form fitting, and it's shade of blue reminds her of... When he strides a little closer to her, she instantly recognizes it. It's something she's always run from before...
...A police uniform…
It dawns on her that this is something she's never considered. Connor's actually an official, formal member of the DPD? He's never spoken about becoming official, only that he cooperated with them during his assignments and continued investigations afterwards. But what's even more eye catching is that his attire defines his shape in such a complimentary manner with its smaller cut and it's delicious.
As he turns to send her one of his typical courteous smiles, there's something else unexpected about him today, too: a small gash on his face, given away by the blue smear of thirium brushed across his cheek. North suddenly wants to nurse his wound, caress the slice on the handsomeness that dawns on her mind in a most uninviting way. Curiosity is starting to morph into admiration and she hates it.
But he pays no attention to his wound like the strong-willed officer he stands out as now and instead pitches a hall-pass story she can't ignore. "Sorry, I'd ran out of time to change. A chase held me up longer than I thought it would," Connor says, filling North with more intrigue than she'd intended. "Luckily, I managed to catch him on the nick of time."
There's something about this look, this Connor that she likes. No…. no, NO, NO! She refuses to admit she's a uniform person. She just can't be, but damn, there's something about seeing Connor in his police attire that her eyes just won't tear away from.
North tries to look at something else. The lamp? The pictures on the wall? The television with it's depressing news? But fuck, the image won't go away! It lingers in her imagination, watching made-up scenes of his hot pursuit, danger lingering in the air as he arrests his target. It gives her a sense of adventure she's missed, makes her wish she was there by his side when he ran after them. What a ruse that would have been!
The sound of his voice pauses her imagination. "North, are you okay? You're turning blue. Perhaps you need to see someone?"
Oh she already is right now… and it's burning her cheeks.
The black and gold woven patch on his left shoulder and the black shoulder guards pressed firmly onto his shirt screams a sense of authority, domination he's never extrovertly expressed under Jericho's roof. She wonders how many assailants he's had to detain with the cuffs hanging off the clip fastened to his belt. The sight of the gun hanging opposite of it tempts an urge North has been holding in for too long. Maybe he'd even consider a day out at the shooting range with the gun hanging on the other side.
What's worse is the longer she stares at him, the warmer her cheeks continue to get, and for some reason she can't peel her eyes away. North really needs to get him out of here fast before her entire face goes royal. She can't will herself to shoo him off, so she turns to one of the things Connor knows best: duty. "I'm- I'm fine. Actually, Markus was looking for you."
"Ah. I'll go find him," Connor responds with a short nod, giving her another one of those now-surprisingly-adorable smiles. He turns to walk off, and North can't stop her eyes from following, tracing the shape of his figure she didn't know he had.
"Wait!" North calls out. She beats herself up internally, attempting to tame the fluttering in her heart that screams what-the-fuck-are-you-thinking. Is this anxiety? Or is it fright? And the word just flew out of her mouth before she could stop it or think about the consequences, or what she would even say. Especially when she'd really meant to shoo him off. It's just so stupid! So, so stupid!
It's her high hope that he hadn't paid attention nor heard her, but much to her reluctance, Connor stops mid-stride, turns back and meets her eyes again with an inquisitive gaze. She should have known his detective ears are too sharp and attentive to miss such a brash call out.
"Your wound… I think we should clean it up first." Yes… that's a perfect reason to use!
"Oh, that…" Connor gently runs two fingers down the spot where his face is cracked. "It's nothing. Don't worry about it."
"Nothing, my ass! If you're going to show up late, at least let me make sure you show up fashionably." Connor sends her a gaze of confusion, but luckily doesn't brush off her suggestion. It enlightens her to know he's truly listening, another admirable trait she didn't realize he had when they speak so little. And oh, he has another heart warming smile on again.
Something about this moment, when they are by themselves, has him sending more human vibes than she's ever seen him give. "If you insist. I suppose I should at least clean myself up."
Luckily, there's an emergency repair kit nearby. Markus was wise to plan for the possibility of this kind of thing happening. It's equipped with plastic molds, a few bags of thirium, and other various tools and materials an injured deviant in need would require within urgency. North opens the glass case, retrieving a clean cloth from one of the shelves, and walks back to Connor's side, who's waiting so so patiently. She's glad he's still there, especially when he was in such a hurry to arrive.
It's a bit of an upward stretch, but North begins where the thirium is most faded, just at his cheek bone. Being so up close to him feels strange, and yet….. so right. She's noticing more things about him than she ever realized before. His lean-cut uniform makes him look taller, and for some inexplicable reason, she's imagining how high up she'd have to stand on her toes to reach his lips with hers as they stand so close.
There's less than a foot between them, and just maybe he'd have to lean down, too. No! North silently slaps herself. She shouldn't be having these thoughts and they're definitely NOT enticed by his formal attire! Her desires definitely AREN'T sparked by the gleam of authority of the badge clipped on his chest. It's probably the light reflecting off of it that's blinding her, or so she keeps repeating to herself.
As North continues to gently wipe his face clean of blue blood, another small interesting tidbit catches her attention, her eyes fluttering back and forth between the name monogrammed on his shirt and now much cleaner face. "Anderson?"
It's Connor's turn to blush, bashful as his eyes turn to the floor and hand rises to scratch the back of his head. "Y-yeah, I figured it would be more fitting to take on Hank's name. They needed an official reference to file formalities and I didn't really know what else to do, especially when…"
North has a feeling she's been misjudging Connor for a long time. Whatever he was about to say was from the heart, guessing from the tone in the trail of his last words. "When… what?"
The detective seems hesitant as he briefly pauses, choosing his next words carefully. "Ah, I'll save that for him to share."
It's clearly a personal story, and seeing as how the two started off with a partnership from the very beginning of the android revolution, their bond is one that Connor respects greatly. North can appreciate this. His silence around the office definitely isn't just some egotistical attitude like her original assumption, and for once, she recognizes just how much she might be able to trust him.
"There, looking all clean again," North says as she steps back to glance at him. He's almost fresh enough to walk into a courtroom now. All that has to be done is to seal the tear in his oddly precious face, but she's not experienced enough in that field to comfortably attempt it.
Connor brushes his uniform off a little, straightening and smoothing out some of the leftover crinkles as much as possible. "Thank you, North. You were right, definitely better," he comments with a courteous nod and another look her way.
A hint of a smile crawls onto her expression, unable to completely hide the satisfaction of really connecting with him for once and hearing her name from his mouth in such a genuine way. She refuses to answer, else that smile might grow a bit larger than intended, so instead North nods in confirmation, a silent instruction to meet with Markus finally.
He understands her message and turns around once more to disappear around the corner, but for the second time, gets stopped by North's involuntary voice.
"Oh, and… blue suits you well." She can't stop the smile that slowly makes itself known again (and she kind of doesn't care if he sees it now). "… Lieutenant Anderson."