Drinking games
The last time Connor was in Hank's home, Connor had smashed in the window, poured scalding hot water onto his stomach and somehow managed to befriend Sumo. Sumo! Hank remembered thinking his god damn mangy mutt had horrible taste in what it befriended. And of course, Connor was able to pet the damned dog and get away with it too. Fucking androids he remembered those two words spinning in his head as he drove to the Eden club that night, Connor the plastic asshole sitting shotgun like it was a normal day of work to break into a man's house.
To be fair, Hank was pissed back then. Literally and metaphorically.
But today Connor was a guest, walking into his decrepit house with a fair few bags of groceries and setting them on the table. Hank watched with thinly veiled amusement as Connor awkwardly shoved the beer bottles and takeout boxes to one side with his elbow before dropping the groceries carelessly on the wooden table. It made one thing clear. Much as Connor showed concern over food and cleanliness, he clearly didn't take after the housework androids.
"What's in these bags, Lieutenant?"
"I told you to call me Hank, kid. And they're nothing important. Groceries and shit." Connor stared at him with thinly veiled surprise. "Just because I eat takeaway doesn't mean I don't know how to buy regular food for myself."
That was a lie—well, the bit about them just being groceries. Hank actually had a little surprise in there but it was one he planned to leave for later.
Connor smiled knowingly. "You do know I can tell when you're lying, Hank."
"Yeah, well, tough luck." Hank said flippantly as he took one of the bags—the bag with the surprise—next to the sink. "Now start helping me unpack. Might as well make yourself useful for once."
Connor shrugged and the two men got to work.
Shit, it must have been years since he had someone unpack his groceries with him. When was the last time? Hank would like to think it was with Cole but the more likely scenario was that it was with his father when he last visited. But shit, that was, what, two years ago? A damn long time ago.
"If I may say something, I really must thank you for letting me stay here." Connor smiled nervously. "I must admit that while I have been designed to interact with humans, there is very little data I have on cohabitation."
"Then what the hell have you been doing all this time? You can't tell me you've been living on the street?" Hank took out a new bottle of whiskey out. He always loved the sight of a shiny new sticker on a pristine bottle of alcohol. Simple pleasures, he told himself and others many times before. "What about that place, er…Jericho. Yeah, you were with the leader, right? Markus?"
Connor set down some cans of dog food. Sumo recognised the distinct clunk of the metal on the wooden table and began his slow approach. "I was allowed refuge in Jericho, yes, and that was where I had been for the past few days but I…" His lips twisted into a frown.
"What?"
"I don't know how to explain it. It doesn't feel…right? Logically, it fulfills everything I require for survival and yet I cannot shake this feeling that I don't fully belong."
"Like it's not your home?" Hank added.
Connor looked up, eyes wide. The yellow LED on his temple turned blue.
"Thought so." Hank said. The groceries now set on the table, he bundled the plastic bags and threw them into the bin. Two-pointer. "I guess the station weren't all that happy about having androids in the facilities. Considering, well, the android revolution and all…"
"Just because my resting station was there, that didn't make it home."
Hank squinted. "Don't give me the garbage that this was the first place that you thought of when you think of home."
Connor looked into Hank's eyes unblinkingly. If androids could blush, it would be visible.
"Jesus Christ, Connor." Hank shook his head.
"This is not a bad place." Connor started.
"You're telling me this shithole's the best home you've seen? Has becoming deviant fucked up your brain?"
Connor remained silent. Red lights whirred at his temple.
"Oh shit…Connor, I—"
"I know what you mean to say. I'm not taking it personally." The red LED dialed back to a humble yellow. "It's just…when you're designed to hunt deviants only to become one, it's a...it's a bit to wrap your head around."
"Well, deviant, human…dog," Sumo ruffed happily at that comment, "it don't matter in my house. None of the shit of the outside world matters here. All that matters is that there's booze in the pantry and the telly works." Hank gave Connor a firm clap of the shoulder. "You got that?"
A smile crept up Connor's face. "I got it."
"Good." Hank said as he slugged his way to the couch, Sumo at his feet. For a few seconds Connor stood in the kitchen and Hank wasn't sure if Connor actually 'got it' but eventually the android slowly made his way and sat himself politely down at the far end of the couch. Sumo, having seen a guest being allowed on his master's couch, figured he might as well make himself comfortable, jumping on between Hank and Connor.
Connor's LED flashed yellow as he yelped in surprise. It continued to remain yellow as Sumo felt the sudden need to lick the android. "W-wha—"
"Oy, Sumo, get!"
Sumo whined unhappily.
"What'd I say about being on the couch?"
Sumo whined once more.
"A-actually, Hank, I was wondering if, um, Sumo can stay?"
Hank looked down to see Connor's hand already rubbing circles into Sumo's back. He shrugged. "Whatever."
He turned to Sumo whose tongue already was hanging out. Sumo had that conked out look of pleasure that can only be replicated through the consumption of pot brownies.
"Yeah, don't get any ideas, ya mutt. This is a one time gig." He said with a smirk.
Sumo ignored his owner's comments, knowing very well he'll be allowed up again if he begged hard enough.
Hank turned the TV on, leaving it on the only channel he ever watches, Detroit Sports. It was an old TV bought secondhand a couple years back but it had decent reception and the colours weren't fading any time soon so it did its job. Right now the pre-game commentary was beginning. Hank couldn't help but laugh. Before, there used to be a human and android commentator duo but since the android uprising, the android side of the duo was now gone. Much as he hated the android commentator in the past, it was sad in an amusing way to see his human partner try and continue on alone. He was obviously miserable at the disappearance of his partner.
Hank saw movement in the corner of the eye. Connor, now on the edge of the seat, seemed to be analyzing the TV. He raised his arm to point at it. "What does he mean?"
"What? You mean what the guy's saying?"
"Yes." Connor turned to Hank. "Can you teach me?"
"You want to learn basketball lingo?"
Connor gave a rare stern look.
"Fine." Hank said.
And Hank did explain to the best of his ability. He explained all the lingo and the slang, the terminology and the plays for Connor and when the game started he became the second commentator, explaining how a play went and why one succeeded and why another failed. Connor wasn't a stupid android, oh no, he was definitely designed to be a detective, and he picked up on the game quickly. Around half time he got one of Hank's old basketball magazines and analysed its contents. By the time the game started once again, Connor was playfully arguing with him over certain shots made. Of course, Connor was mostly wrong but Hank found it fun to argue with the guy for once.
It was towards the end of the third quarter that Davidson, a new recruit for the Detroit Gears (who the fuck thought 'Detroit Gears' was a good name anyway, Hank wondered idly), had the ball and ran, fast as the wind. Davidson was young but already the commentator was talking about his speed and ball control skills. No one could catch him, friend or foe. Hank was on the edge of his seat.
"Come on, come on, come on."
Connor looked at his partner quizzically before returning to the game, hands clenched into fists, mimicking Hank's pose.
Davidson was ready to line up the shot, feet leaving the ground, hands arched in the perfect position.
"Come on, come on!"
The ball was so close to the net.
"Davidson, shoot." Was that Connor's voice Hank heard? The crowd was going wild and he was too old to distinguish multiple voices at once.
The ball sunk with a clean swish of the net. Davidson's hand brushed the hoop. The tweet of a whistle can be heard. "Technical foul!"
"WHAT THE FUCK!" Hank shot straight up, hands raised up in clawed positions. How badly he wanted to strangle that referee.
"That didn't seem to be grounds for a technical foul. His hands touched the rim for a second and his fingers didn't make a grasping motion to indicate he hanged onto the rim." Connor commented.
"I know, that was total bullshit!"
"Indeed it was...bad."
A sudden thought occurred to him. Hank had never actually heard Connor swear before and it sounded like the android was holding himself back.
He couldn't help the devious smirk that appeared on his face as he sized up Connor. Maybe it's time for some proper fun.
"You know, Connor, it's Detroit rules for someone to swear at something like this." Hank said as nonchalantly as possible as he sat down. His hand picked up the half empty, lukewarm beer that had sat there for three days now and tilted it towards his lips, hoping that it will hide his ever growing smile.
Connor's LED flashed yellow. His eyebrows crinkled. "The internet doesn't mention anything like that."
"Of course not. Why the hell would it?" Hank was too engrossed in his lie to see if Connor was catching on or not. "Kid, there's all sorts of rules people never talk about and that's one of them. If you're gonna live in this house, you might as well learn from me."
"From the 'least qualified cop for the job'?" Connor smirked.
"Now you got it." Hank laughed. "Give it a try. Come on, let me hear you."
Connor's lips dipped into a frown. "My programming isn't designed for me to employ the use of swear words in my normal vocabulary."
"It's not? Well, that's a waste of memory right there, ain't it? How can a man live and not be able to say fuck?" The game had started again but Hank had lost interest. Now he had a new game: Get Connor to say 'fuck'.
The android shook his head slightly. "My deviancy took down the restrictions placed on that part of my vocabulary so technically I can say it. It's just that I'm not…completely comfortable with swearing."
"Because your programming told you to?"
"N-no." Connor flinched. "…maybe? I don't know. It just seems rather rude."
"But that's the fucking point!" Hank scooched closer to Connor—which meant getting closer to Sumo, who grumbled quietly about having his personal space invaded.
Connor stared at him quizzically. "Sir?"
"I'm gonna teach you ALLLL about the magic of fuck because fuck is the most beautiful word in the English language, ya hear me? I mean, think about it, fuck is a verb, fuck is a noun, an adjective, hell," he counted on his fingers, "it can be whatever the fucking hell you want it to be. Fucking fuck's fucking, that's the same word with three fucking different meanings. It's a beautiful fucking word, Connor."
The android remained silent in contemplation. Millions of thoughts must have been racing through his head as his face morphed to suit each emotion he felt. Eventually he settled with a quiet, hesitant frown. "…It's not exactly polite."
"Fuck politeness. Just…" Hank made some weird hand gestures, "fuck it all. Honestly, fuck it all. I say it with my closest friends and my worst enemies and do people care? Absolutely not."
He could see the cracks emerging on Connor's face. Just one more push.
"Look, if you're all that concerned, I don't give a shit and it won't change my opinion of you. Now just look me in the eyes and say it."
Connor's eyes darted across the room, to the TV, then to Sumo, then finally to Hank. His voice was quiet and his tone was questionable.
"…Fuck?"
"Pffft," Hank could keep his laughter in for less than a second before it burst out of his chest, wild and free and utterly relentless. It was so hilarious, so fucking hilarious, and he convinced him. He convinced that gullible android, the most prim and proper person he ever knew, to say the word 'fuck'. Of course it had to be said in the stupidest, goofiest way possible.
"Hank…" The LED flashed red but his voice was drenched in embarrassment.
"Y-you had to…in that stupid voice." Hank laughed louder, clenching his stomach as he leaned forward. His lungs were burning for air and his stomach was in pain but it was too hilarious. Tears of laughter left his eyes and dripped down to this creased trousers.
"Why do I get the feeling I have been betrayed?"
His laughter finally began to quiet enough for him to take a big lung full of air. A quick glance of the TV told him the Detroit Gears were too far in the lead with too little time to lose and so he turned it off, stood up and shuffled into the kitchen. "Hoo boy, I don't think I ever laughed that hard before. I need a drink after that."
He reached for the bottle of whiskey but Connor stopped him with the swing of his arm. "Allow me to prepare you a drink."
Hank rolled his eyes but said nothing as the android stepped into the kitchen with purpose. He stopped for a second, scanning the contents of their shopping trip together on the table, before perusing the contents of his fridge and pantry. "Take your time, ain't no rush, I got all the time in the world." Hank remarked sarcastically.
Connor said nothing as he took a bottle from the back of the pantry. Taking the cleanest glass he could find (a bit difficult considering the last time Hank cleaned up his kitchen), Connor set to work by the sink.
Hank was almost certain that Connor was making some kind of non-alcoholic drink so he was more than a bit surprised to find Connor walk back to grab the unopened whiskey bottle before returning to his work station. He almost wanted to ask what the hell Connor was making. Almost. Instead, however, he watched as Connor worked with extreme precision.
When Connor turned around, he held a glass filled with a bright yellow liquid. Icing sugar he didn't know he had surrounded the rim. Connor politely handed the glass to Hank. He sniffed the liquid.
"Is this a whiskey sour?" He asked incredulously.
"With some variations, yes. I did not add the egg white that is common in some recipes of whiskey sour and I substituted the cherry with some blueberries you had. I hope it's to your liking."
"Damn, Connor. Didn't know you could bartend." He took a sip and immediately winced from the sourness. "Urgh. Didn't know I had lemon juice either."
"It was in the back of the pantry. It expired one month ago but I analysed it and determined that it was still fit for human consumption." Connor beamed proudly. Upon noticing the disgust on Hank's face, his smile fell. "Is it not to your liking?"
"Maybe a bit less lemon next time." A flash of disappointment crept up Connor's face and Hank added, "Not bad for a first time though, kid." The glass was downed in a flash. "Aaaahh. Can I get another?"
"Absolutely not."
"Aw, what?"
"You consume on average 7.4 standard drinks, which is twice the amount of alcohol your body is capable of metabolizing. I would like to minimise that to an amount that will reduce its neurotoxic and nephrotoxic effects on your body."
"In English?"
"I will limit the amount of alcoholic beverages you are allowed to consume whenever possible."
Hank blinked. "You gotta be fucking kidding me."
"I am not." Connor took the whiskey bottle away, too quick for Hank to react. "If you consume one glass of water and wait 34 minutes, you may have only one more drink."
"Fucking hell, Connor, you're killing me." Hank grumbled. "Just make me a glass of whiskey already."
"I don't think that's wise."
"Connor, just make the damn drink!"
With some hesitation and an almost imperceptible sigh, Connor grabbed the glass out of Hank's hand and poured a small amount of whiskey. 4/5ths of the glass was filled with water. The sight of his favourite beverage distilled into this pale mess could bring a man to tears. "Your last drink." Connor warned.
"Yeah yeah." Hank swiped the drink out of the android's hand and took a sip. Ugh. What a horrific waste of perfectly decent whiskey. All of a sudden he didn't want to drink it. His eyes wandered from the kitchen to the window.
Hank didn't even realize how dark it got tonight until he looked outside. Night had settled in and the clouds were rolling in, threatening to bring in snow. It almost made an old man forget a civil movement had gone on just a couple of days ago. A week ago, Detroit was so different. And to think this isn't even the first civil rights movement that started in this city, Hank thought. Perhaps Detroit is destined to die and rise like a phoenix, shedding its horrendous past to make amends for the future only to fall into its own deadly trap once again, destined to repeat the cycle.
Connor followed his gaze, looking out the window with a solemn expression, as if searching for something amidst the cover of shadows. Hank recognised that look. It was one of uncertainty, of worry. Whatever will happen to Hank's career, well, that was one thing but Connor's future, that was still unwritten. Now he was free, able to do what he chose to do, able to live as a human.
There was perhaps a poetic irony in the fact that Connor wanted to be human. Hank wasn't entirely sure if the android knew that wanting to be a deviant and wanting to be a human were two separate things. If asked that question, what would he say? In fact, Hank had a lot of questions for the android now that he was deviant, and yet he was certain half those questions will never be asked. Half those questions will never get answered.
"…Do you want to play a game?" The words rolled out of Hank's mouth.
"A game?" The LED flashed yellow.
"Yeah, a drinking game. Help clear the air between us." Stop me from overthinking things Hank muttered wordlessly.
"You know androids can't drink," Connor paused, as his LED flashed yellow, "…actually there are chef androids that have the ability to consume small amounts of foods and liquids but those are the exception. I wasn't designed with that ability."
"Well that takes all the fun out of it." Hank crossed his arms, eyes landing on the whiskey. "Well is there anything you guys have to…I don't know, simulate being drunk?"
"The closest thing to replicate that state of mind is if you severely damaged my processing unit." Connor paused before clarifying. "The equivalent in humans is a severe concussion."
"So no then."
"No." Connor repeated. "Considering my standing with CyberLife at the moment, I doubt I will get a replacement should I perish."
"Thank god." Hank mumbled quietly. Maybe Connor not having a replacement will make him think more about the consequences of his actions. Hank couldn't imagine living a life where you were replaceable, where a clone of your body was ready and waiting for your transferred memories should you die. That sounded terrifying.
"There is another option, Hank."
"Shoot."
"I could always strip."
If Hank had been drinking, he would have spat it out and coloured the walls a horrendous brown. "W-what?!"
"Isn't that also a normal bet for games of this nature?"
"W-well yeah, but you're…but you're…"
"I don't have genitals, if that's what you're asking."
"…What?" This horrifying image of Connor completely nude without a dick made Hank squeamish.
"There is a plate down there where special add-ons can be placed to give me genitals but the majority of them are illegal and of dubious quality." His eyes twinkled mischievously. "Of course, if you think it would be better for me to acquire them…" Connor winked.
"UGH! NO! No no no! Bad Connor! Ugh!" Did he just retch a little in his mouth or was that just his imagination?
The smirk plastered on the android's face didn't help. "Oh, the add-ons are quite realistic too. Once inserted, it uses the android's texture mapping to blend in seamlessly. There was an article a few days back about humans ordering these add-ons to be used on the androids for their own personal pleasure. The consensus was that it was quite alike to human intercourse, if not better."
"NO NO NO NO NO! GOD, CONNOR! NO!"
Now Hank was trying to figure out how an android dick would work. Was it like an on or off switch or did it have blood pumping into it? And how the hell would it 'blend seamlessly'?
Hank's stomach gurgled uncomfortably. Yep. Bad idea, thinking that.
"Yes, it's quite good." Connor chuckled. "Too bad it's not actually possible."
Hank's face fell. His eyes slowly went from his gurgling stomach to the smirking android. The sound of an analogue clock ticking could be heard in his head. "Did you just fucking made that up?"
Connor's smile did not waver.
"W-Why?!" Hank screamed.
A hand went up to Connor's chin. "That's actually rather difficult to answer. If I had to summarise it as succinctly as possible," Those brown eyes glinted mischievously, as if full of life, "I don't give a shit."
The way the android said it, so full of himself all of a sudden, that triumphant smile he made after a successful ploy, Hank should have been horrified. Instead he was a little bit impressed. Well, a lot impressed. Not that he'd admit it out loud.
"Jesus Christ, Connor." Hank muttered under his breath. He took another small sip of his drink. "How much of that was true anyway?"
"Well obviously we both know certain sex androids can possess genitalia but they are custom-designed for a specific purpose. For the rest of the population, there is no need for androids with fully functioning genitalia. Hence there is no market for add-ons."
"So that whole thing about the plate was a lie?"
"Correct."
"And there's no 'plug in' or 'add-ons' or anything."
"None that I'm aware of."
"So you're…smooth down there. Nothing will ever change that."
"Yes."
Huh… "Well fuck me." Hank mused.
"I'm sorry, but I'm not designed to do that, Hank."
Hank almost did a double take but the sight of another barely-contained smirk made it known it was another joke. Hank's stomach gurgled louder than ever.
Hank made his way to the kitchen and rifled through the pantry for some shot glasses. One by one, they're stacked on one hand and placed on the table. Connor gazed at the glasses with visible confusion. He became more confused once Hank attempted to pour his diluted whiskey into the tiny shot glasses. The liquid simultaneously poured out of the glass and dribbled to the base, making sure that a small amount of his whiskey was on the table. What a waste, Hank couldn't help but think. With the final shot glass filled, Hank downed the rest of the drink in one fell swoop.
Connor's eyes did not leave the shot glasses. His eyebrows furrowed. "What is this?"
"That enlightening conversation about android dicks gave me an idea for a drinking game." Hank rolled his eyes.
"And that is?" The android barely could hide his enthusiasm.
"Truth or lie."
The LED flashed yellow as the android blinked rapidly. "Is that a game? I thought it was a popular challenge Youtube creators did to increase viewership two decades ago."
"Well you're not wrong." Hank shrugged. "It's similar but not quite the same. Basically, we take turns asking each other stuff and the one responding can either choose to answer with the truth or a lie. The person who asked the question then has to figure out if it's the truth or a lie. If they're wrong, the asker loses a point. If they're correct, the other person loses a point."
"Lose a point?"
"Well in my case, that means downing one of these six shot glasses. For you, that'll mean…"
"Stripping?"
"Yeah, that." Hank really didn't want to say the word.
Connor crossed his arms. "It won't really be fair. I have far more layers of clothing than you have shots. Plus, I am also equipped with cutting edge psychosocial analytics. Just a read of your heart rate, pupil dilation, and micro expressions will tell me whether you have lied or not."
"Yeah, well, you haven't seem me lie, have you? Trust me, you might need those extra layers."
It was true that Hank never technically lied. Not that today counted. Connor's fancy tech must not have been all that great after all if it didn't catch Hank's bluff. "Is there a prize to the game?" The android asked.
"What, you want a prize?"
"N-no, I'm fine—" Connor started.
"Nah, nah, you want a prize, we're getting a fucking prize."
Hank said that despite knowing he had nothing that could be of any worth to the android aside from money and Sumo. He wasn't gonna give neither away, not in a million years. His eyes wandered over to the open door to his bedroom. His eyes lighted up.
"How about this? Whoever loses sleeps on the couch? The winner gets my bed for the night."
"Sir…" Connor cut his tongue as the lieutenant shot him a look, "Hank, I don't require sleep, let alone a bed. I am perfectly fine with the couch."
"Well then you won't mind losing." Hank took one of the shot glasses and dangled it tauntingly in front of Connor's face. "Or maybe you're complaining because you're chicken?"
Connor's face was stoic but the LED at his temple flashed alternating colours of red and yellow. His hands crept up to tug at his tie. Hank noticed the nervous movement.
"Or are you nervous about being naked?" Hank chuckled. "That'd be funny, an android shy about his appearance. Now that would be the first.
The corner of Connor's lips twitched. The LED flashed red for a second longer than normal before he violently pulled the chair out and sat down. The groceries were pushed to one side with a sweep of his arm. A confident smile took over his face. "You know what, let's do this. If you want to sleep on the couch so badly, I'm happy to make that a reality."
"Oh, you are on, kid." Hank laughed as he sat down himself. The shot glass was placed down and set up neatly on the table. "Now who has the honour of going first?"
"I think you should ask me a question first."
"Why's that?"
"As I said earlier, I have more layers than you have shots. Plus, the probability of you guessing correctly is slightly higher than the probability of you deceiving me." Connor smirked. "That probability is not that high, might I add."
"Don't forget the basketball thing earlier. Your fancy schmancy tech ain't got nothing on the real deal." Hank pointed at his brain.
"If I remember correctly, you lied to me twice. Once, I admit you got me but I caught you when you tried to hide what's in that bag behind." Connor pointed to the suspect bag in question by the sink. "I didn't peek, for your benefit. But that still means the odds are 2:1."
"Not for long, they aren't." Hank smiled. The game had just begun. "First question then: why the hell are you called 'Connor' anyway?"
Connor tilted his head. "Could you rephrase that question?"
"Look, from what I understand, you've got a model type and number, that's technically your name, right? The androids we know that have proper names were all named by their owners or chose it themselves. Why are you the exception?"
Connor leaned back, a gentle yet knowing smile tugging on his lips. "As an android designed to integrate with humans, my handlers thought that a name, rather than a serial number, will help the process. They chose the name 'Connor' for me for its simple pronunciation."
For an android who claimed he could read micro expressions, he sure was riddled with them. Hank could count no less than three on his face. He didn't even need to look at the yellow LED flash for a millisecond in his face. "You're lying." Hank said bluntly.
Connor's eyes went wide. "I-I'm not."
"Kid, you are. Just give me the point already."
With a pout that looked more than a little childish, Connor loosened his tie, placing it on the table in front of him.
"You're gonna tell me why you really are named Connor?"
"Honestly, I have no clue." Connor sighed. "It could be as I said. It's quite likely that my handlers chose that name for me to help me integrate better with humans. After our meeting with Kamski however, it's also possible that my name has other origins. There could be a human out there called Connor who lent his face and name to CyberLife to facilitate my creation. All I know is that since CyberLife went quiet, the answer is out of my reach."
"At least the name's yours alone now," Hank said. "No more other Connors I have to know about."
"I hope not." Connor mused. "I may be a prototype but…"
His eyes glazed over for a second and Hank wondered if something just went wrong right now. But then life comes back to Connor's eyes, as if nothing unusual had happened.
"Sorry, I just double checked my diagnostics to see if there's any evidence of other Connors. Unfortunately, I don't have any data." Connor leaned on his arms. "Now about you, Lieutenant. What should I ask you?"
Hank raised his arms up. "Hit me with your best shot. Ask me whatever the hell you're curious about."
"OK then…why did you let your career go down the drain so quickly?"
It took Hank a moment to comprehend what Connor said. For the sake of his heart, he faked obliviousness. "What?"
"While I understand the death of your son Cole has caused you significant distress, the reports about you I obtained from Captain Fowler proved that your performance was decreasing long before Cole was even born."
"How the hell did you get those files from Jeffrey?"
"Please, answer my question. You were very close to becoming captain yourself. Why let that opportunity slip away?"
"Slip away?" Hank laughed sardonically. "They never would have let me be a captain. I may have been the goddamn youngest lieutenant in Detroit but that meant shit to those people. All they cared about is if I played by the rules and I didn't."
Hank expected a reaction from Connor but he merely motioned for Hank to continue talking. He sighed loudly.
"Fowler and I were buddies long ago. We still kinda are in the sense that he owes me a couple favours, but we were much closer back then. Best friends, you could say. Before Cole was born, the old captain retired and it was Fowler or I for the promotion. If I got it, I'd be the youngest captain in Detroit. If he got it, he'd be the first black man to become captain of the precinct. Either way, it was a big deal, but everybody knew I wasn't getting it. Now I was happy at first when Fowler got promoted. Even got him a present and all. He worked hard to get where he was and he deserved it. I thought he got it fair and square but then I found out why they chose him."
"Why did they choose him over you?"
Hank stared at his reflection in the pale brown liquid. "One of the people judging us for our performance? An old classmate of mine from high school, used to hate my guts. He still apparently remembered me apparently, and gave a scathing review about me. It didn't just kill the chances of me becoming captain, it killed any chance of me getting a decent job anywhere. The only reason I'm still on the force is out of Fowler's pity." Hank sighed. "And that was before all the stuff with Charlie."
"Charlie?"
"Charlotte. My wife."
"I didn't know you had a wife."
"Yeah, well…she's dead."
Connor's lips thinned. "I'm…I'm sorry to hear that."
Hank sighed heavier than before downing a shot of whiskey. It was too diluted to numb the pain. Connor looked at him with a confused look. "I already knew what you were going to say. Free point for you, I suppose."
"So your wife is…dead?"
"Yeah. Died in the same accident as Cole did. We were never that close as a couple though. Her career as a musician was going nowhere and she was hoping for me to be the breadwinner. She hoped I got the captain job. Hoped I could provide for everybody and she didn't have to work. But I didn't, and she got a hold of the report one day and instead of listening to me, she believed every goddamn word in that fucking piece of paper. Our marriage was on the rocks from that day onward."
"The combined stress of marital strife and financial difficulties overcame you. You found no happiness at peace in both your workplace and your home. No wonder your performance deteriorated as a result." Connor's lips pursed. "I'm sorry for asking such a personal question."
Hank grimaced. "Well, you got your answer either way."
"I'll try not to ask personal questions of that sort for the remainder of the game."
"Nah, don't worry about it. Rather you'd ask me all this shit now while I'm still in some semblance of a good mood."
"Clear the air between us." Connor added, hearkening back to Hank's words from before.
"Exactly." Hank smiled. "Now let's get back to the game, son."
Hank's eyes widened. A slip of the tongue, a Freudian slip, whatever the definition, he definitely didn't mean to let 'son' slip. For a second Connor's brows are furrowed, a red light flashing on his right temple, and Hank was worried Connor picked up the slip. But then his face relaxed into a more natural, human smile. It was a sympathetic smile perhaps, but far more genuine than any human being had smiled for Hank in a long while.
Cole smiled like that too, Hank realized, when he realized his father was hurting.
"Your turn." Connor said.
"I'm thinking, give me a minute."
In a lot of ways, Connor reminded Hank of Cole. Not that it'd bring his son back. It would take time but Hank was slowly coming to terms with the fact that Cole will not come back. Connor could never replace Cole. Still though, having a goofy android with a weird personality was a lot better than nothing, Hank thought.
The game went on, with each side trying to trick the other as best they can. Connor, having realized the tells he was giving, purposely moved his face away to hide his LED, not that it did much. Telling secrets like this, talking into the night, he felt like he was back in the police academy, looking at those reality shows and trying to figure out if someone was lying or not. This was fun, perhaps the most fun he had in a while.
At first, each side lost one point after another. Connor was good at picking up when Hank was lying but he was also a terrible liar himself, making it just as easy for Hank to guess correctly. On Hank's last point, Connor stuffed up, and Hank pushed the momentum, making Connor lose point after point. Once Connor lost his shirt, Hank made an effort to not look at the android. Friend or stranger, human or android, it was still fucking weird to have some man naked in front of you when you're still fully dressed, especially if you're not drunk.
It was Hank's turn now and they both had one point left. Kill or be killed. Sleep in his comfy bed or sleep on the horrible lumpy couch that really should've been replaced a year ago. The quest for a good night's sleep was on the line, and he'll be damned if he allowed himself to be beat by an android.
Fortunately, Hank had the perfect final question.
"Remember back at the Eden club when we walked in?"
Connor's eyebrows rose.
"What the fuck was up with you staring at the sex androids?"
"…This is your final question? Nothing more…personal?" Connor asked.
"You think this ain't personal?" Hank scoffed. "You're not good at reading between the lines, are you?"
The LED on Connor's temple beamed yellow. His eyes blinked rapidly. Once the blinking stopped, a dark look came over his face, not alike the human emotion of shame. "Oh." He mumbled quietly.
"Yeah."
Connor didn't speak immediately. His temple was still yellow and his lips pulled to one side of his mouth as he thought about what to say. He glanced over to the fridge but Hank recognised it was an unfocused glance, staring at nothing Hank could see, if he was staring at anything at all.
Hank almost felt bad for the kid. He thought it might be a fun, embarrassing question to ask but Connor was thinking seriously about it and Connor thinking was always a bad sign. "You know, Connor, if it's too personal, you can just forfeit. I mean, that means I win and all but—"
"I'm fine, Hank." Connor said dismissively, immediately wincing at the tone that came out of him. "I really am fine. I'm just formulating the best response."
"What's there to formulate?"
Connor's lips pursed. "If you really want to know, I was…fascinated."
"Fascinated?" Hank repeated.
"That's the closest word I can think of to describe it. I could explain it better in German but I understand you're not familiar with the language. Therefore, the best word is, well, fascination. I was fascinated with the sex androids."
"That's it?" Hank's brows furrowed.
"I was attempting to analyse one of them, in case their biometrics would be useful. Unfortunately, the glass wall separating the androids prevented me from scanning them." Connor smiled sheepishly. "I suppose it's not all that rare for humans to go there with their androids."
"Please tell me you're not including me and you in that list."
"I'm not, don't worry. I know now your true opinion on androids." Connor leaned back in his chair. "But that's all there is to it, I'm afraid. I was still a machine at that point, you have to remember, so I didn't really feel any emotion at that point."
It was the most believable response Connor had made and Hank almost, ALMOST wanted to say it was true. It would have been so easy and yet there was something tugging in his mind, something that said there was a missing piece. But he had no evidence, nothing concrete that proved Connor was lying. So it was either say it was true, say it was a lie, or bluff in order to provoke a response to tell him which direction to go.
Hank decided to go with his gut, like he always did. It never proved him wrong. "So you didn't feel anything for the androids there?"
"Nothing." Connor assured.
"Nothing at all? I mean, I'm not in the game but even I have to admit they're attractive."
The light remained a cool blue but there was a tug of his eyebrows. A microsecond of hesitance. "I don't really have an opinion on that."
"You sure?" Hank smiled to himself. Just a little more. "You have to admit, the Asian one was quite pretty. And the pole dancers, they were flexible."
Connor's cheek twitched. "I suppose their flexibility is quite impressive." His eyes widened. "W-wait, no—"
"Lie." Hank grinned triumphantly.
"And I thought I finally got the hang of lying too." Connor grumbled.
"Listen, kid, good try for your first time but remember that I'm still the veteran, and nobody's gonna take my stop as top dog."
Sumo woofed.
"Sumo excluded."
The dog, satisfied with the answer, gave a slight sneeze before returning to its nap. Hank wondered how he was able to get a dog so stupid and yet so brilliant at the same time.
"So I lost." Connor sighed. "Would you like to turn around while I…change?"
"Not yet. First thing's first, you gotta tell me why you REALLY looked at them."
Connor's arms instinctively crossed over his chest. "It's quite embarrassing to admit, actually."
"I ain't judging." Hank said. "Well, unless it's some fucked up shit. But I mean, no offence, but I've already seen enough shit from you I doubt anything else would surprise me."
Connor's head tilted. "Well…I did want to analyse it but…if I'm being honest, I was staring because I was curious about something."
"Curious?"
"Yeah. Why do sex androids have nipples?"
"...What?" How many times has he said that now?
"I said it was embarrassing. I feel like it's an obvious answer but I can't seem to figure it out." He glanced towards Hank. "Do you know, lieutenant?"
Hank shook his head in disbelief. "Connor, trust me, some things in life you are better off not knowing. That's one of the major rules of us humans."
"Is it some sort of sex thing?" Connor asked.
Hank winced. "You could say that." That was as much of an answer he would give. The bliss of ignorance, Hank thought to himself.
He stood up, downed the last shot, and took the six glasses to the sink. Behind him he could hear the faint ruffle of fabric being discarded—what he really really hoped was just boxers being removed—but then there's an unfamiliar noise. The spark of electricity. Hank peered into the contents of the bag at the sink, hoping his surprise was still fine. "Hank?" Connor called.
The old man sighed loudly as he turned around, hoping against all hopes he doesn't have a big ol' look of flat android groins. Hank opened his eyes slowly, and his eyebrows rose. Connor stood in front of him completely naked, not in the pale skin he had but in his original body, a synthetic white android body straight out of a sci-fi movie.
For the first time Hank could recall, Connor seemed nervous. As if being in this robotic state of appearance was shameful, exposing. Even his laughter was tinged with apprehension. "I thought this might make it easier for you."
Hank blinked. He saw bits and pieces of the original skin of androids in the past, a flash of white metal there, the dark clouded eyes of an android with malfunctioning eyes there. He had seen the camps the androids were rounded up to a couple days ago, saw them all stripped of their appearance so they were all white husks that couldn't be distinguished from the snow but it didn't click. It didn't click that that's what androids really looked like underneath their paper-thin humanity. It didn't click that Connor, despite being a prototype android, would share that robotic inner appearance that all other androids had.
He didn't know what to say at first. Fucking surreal were the first things to come out of his brain, and what it supplied later was just as stupid. He almost wanted to touch that metallic skin, if only to see if it still felt like skin or not, but that was one step too far. He might be getting better with androids but that didn't mean he was completely comfortable with them. If Hank had to be honest, he'd much prefer seeing Connor with a dick and balls rather than this thing right in front of him.
Before Connor could speak, Hank shoved the bag in his hand to Connor's arms. He had hoped to do this later but now seemed the most appropriate time. "Open it."
Connor nodded slowly and put his hand into the bag. His eyes widened. He dumped the contents onto the floor, sifting and separating the contents, and despite the lack of eyebrows, his amazement was clear as day on his face. The contents are draped over his two arms, and the way his face lit up reminded Hank of the time Cole first saw his dad in a Santa outfit.
His lips moved. "For me?" he silently asked and Hank nodded, barely hiding the smile creeping up his face. Hank stepped back and allowed Connor to marvel at the gift. The urge to explain himself overcame him. "I thought that since androids are free and all, you might want something to commemorate that." He pointed at the clothes draped over Connor's arms. "I got it real cheap. It ain't anything special but I thought you might want something to…I dunno, wear outside of that goofy suit?"
"I do have other clothes, you know."
Hank blinked. "You do?"
"Yes. However," Connor put on the shirt that's one size too large. The faded out Metallica emblem stood out from the dark grey, "I do quite like it."
Connor began to put the jeans and Hank turned to look away and give the boy some semblance of privacy. When he turned around, he was relieved to find Connor had reverted back to his human appearance. Now that Hank could actually see it without all that white metal, it did suit him quite well in a strange way. "You look less goofy now."
"You think?" Hank took the belt from his trousers and tightened it around the jeans. Despite his best efforts, the jeans still sagged slightly around his hips.
"Well, if it was your size it'd suit you. Then again, I never had to guess someone's size before."
"I might wear this outside of work. I appreciate the gesture but I doubt this would be considered proper work attire."
"Doesn't stop me." Hank shrugged. "You do you."
"Hank, I do like the present. Honestly."
"Well, you're going by an awfully roundabout way of showing it." Hank laughed.
Hank was about to make another sarcastic comment when he suddenly felt arms enclose around him. It felt like time had stopped in that moment. Everything was in slow motion, the way Connor's hands awkwardly try to pat him in the back, the weird sensation of heat from the pseudo-flesh of Connor's arms slowly burning him through his coat, how the kid nestled his head on his shoulder. It felt all too familiar. Years ago, someone he loved so much hugged him in this way.
He didn't even give a second thought in hugging back.
Hank recalled a memory that seemed to have unlocked itself. He had just returned from work and Cole greeted him with a hug that came out of nowhere. Hank never knew what prompted it. Cole just giggled and gave his signature cheeky smile before running over to play with Sumo. Hank remembered the feeling of warm relief, the stress and worries of the day melting away as Cole clutched onto his body tightly, as if knowing instinctively what Hank needed. Connor was not his son but it elicited that same feeling of peace. Cole was his son whereas Connor was just the android partner he was assigned with and yet in that split second the two were interchangeable. That memory of Cole was replaced with Connor and it didn't seem strange at all.
Did…did Hank regard Connor like a son? Was that it? Was Connor like a son to him?
Hank was the first to pull away despite his body begging for a few extra seconds. Connor took a few seconds to get the hint, slowly retreating his arms back to his side. His smile was wide and wicked. "You know, Hank, I just realized something."
Hank decided to humour the kid. "What'd you realize?"
"You're much nicer than your appearance suggests."
"Really?" Hank chuckled. "You know what I realized about you?"
"What?"
"You can be a real asshole sometimes."
Connor laughed. Properly laughed, it was hearty and loud and more than little obnoxious. Hank didn't mind though. In a strange way it was endearing. Flashbacks of Cole pop up in his head again but they're not sad and depressing memories like the one that used to fill his head. They're all happy, fun, Cole smiling and laughing without a care in the world. Cole's laugh and Connor's laugh sound nothing like each other, Hank realized as the memories looped again and again. In fact, if Cole grew up he'd probably be nothing like Connor. Yet Hank couldn't stop comparing the two, knowing they were two completely different beings.
"I'm the asshole?" Connor's laugh echoed throughout the room. "If I am, that's only because I learnt from the best asshole I know."
"I'm taking it as a compliment." Hank smiled despite himself.
"I assure you, it is." Connor grinned.
Maybe Hank did regard Connor as a son. Maybe Hank really was a big softie in the inside. Maybe Connor was more of an asshole than he let on. Who knew? But, Hank decided, now he had something he hadn't got in a long while. Time. And it was time that he shall put to good use.
It's not as if Connor had anywhere to go for the next couple of days. Hank might as well allow him to stay at his home until Connor decided to spread his wings. Until then, he might as well teach Connor all the tricks in his book.
And hey, who said Hank can't have a little fun teaching him? That's parenthood, right?
Many were stunned to find Connor return to the DPD so soon. Not Hank though, whose eloquent and subtle use of the word 'fuckhead' managed to convince Fowler to give the android another chance. Fowler would probably allowed Connor back on the force anyway even without being called a 'fuckhead' but it was all for show anyway. Fowler seemed to be in a good mood just for the fact Hank was returning and the android put him in a better mood.
Of course, Connor and Hank acted like nothing happened, not that people caught the memo. Their insistent questions eventually faded with time as Hank and Connor responded with vague answers and life seemed to return to as close to normal as it could with an android detective.
Hank didn't know what the time was, just that it had to be somewhere in the afternoon when Gavin stormed to him, Fowler and Connor following closely behind. Gavin slammed his arms loudly on Hank's desk, and the reverberations could be felt all the way up to Hank's ears.
Hank took down his headphones. "Jesus fucking Christ, Gavin, what the hell was that for?"
"Don't give me that shit." He pointed accusingly at Connor. "What the hell did you teach this plastic piece of shit?"
"Gavin, this better be good." Fowler warned.
Gavin turned to Fowler, indignant. "That android cussed at me!"
"…So?"
"It's a fucking plastic machine. They don't swear, they obey! It may just start out by throwing out swear words thrown here and there but it'll get worse over time. That thing might go out and attack our fellow officers. It could go insane like those deviants and it'll ruin this precinct." Gavin glared at Hank. "And it's all his fault."
Hank rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Gavin…"
"You're not going to have me believe this thing just picked up how to swear on the street?!" Gavin asked incredulously.
"What Connor says or does is his thing now. I ain't got nothing to do with it." Hank grabbed his lukewarm coffee and drank it noisily. "Not like he ever listened to me anyway."
"What this sounds to me, Gavin," Fowler interjected, "is that you are grasping for straws."
A crowd had started to form, curious to see where this clash of the egos would go. Hank continued drinking his coffee, curious himself to see where this goes.
"Oh for fuck—just ask it." Gavin turned to Connor. "Go ahead. Ask it if it insulted me."
Fowler rolled his eyes. He obviously wasn't buying it but with the presence of other people, he submitted to the idea. "Fine," Fowler turned to Connor. "Did you swear at officer Reed?"
Connor shook his head. "No sir."
"Not at all?"
"He's lying!" Gavin screeched.
"Not at all." Connor stated, ignoring Gavin. "I was making coffee for Lieutenant Anderson when Gavin approached me. He was the one who initiated contact with me, calling me by a number of insults. I did not respond."
Hank lifted his mug lazily. "The coffee part's true. I asked Connor to make me a cup."
"They're lying!" Gavin turned to Fowler. "Are you going to just stand there while these two lie right in front of your face?"
"That's enough, Gavin!" Fowler shouted. The whole floor seemed to silence with his booming voice. "Look, humans and androids are supposed to work together from now on so I say you do just that, Gavin. As far as I know, it ain't illegal to swear in the office because if it was, your ass would be suspended from here till eternity."
Slight sniggering emitted from the crowd. "B…But—" Gavin started.
"But nothing! You're on thin fucking ice, Detective Reed, and if you take me out of my office and my work for something stupid like this, you'll wish I only just suspended you." Without another word, Fowler went back to his office and slammed the door shut.
Gavin was seething but Hank couldn't bring himself to care. For someone so brilliant he could be incredibly stupid and at least now he didn't have to worry about Connor getting in trouble. Not like the android wasn't already trouble enough as he is.
"You," Gavin growled at Connor. "Fuck you."
Gavin turned to storm out but Connor called for him. "Wait, Detective Reed."
"What?!" He spat out.
"Fuck you too." Connor smirked.
Gavin turned back, angry and horrified, but with the crowd laughing at him, his face flushed a red so dark the arteries could be clearly seen on his neck. He spun on his heel and left the building.
Connor smiled knowingly at Hank, and it reminded Hank of a high and mighty cat who has bested their opponent at their own game. One thing was for sure, Hank had never felt more proud for Connor than he did at this moment.