John Kennex sat in the interrogation room, wondering if his pants had shrunk. He shifted, in the chair, trying not to attract the attention of the perp sitting across the table. Dorian sat next to him, seemingly impassive, looking calmly at the guy who was insisting "it wasn't me; I swear, it wasn't me!"

"Mr. Taylor, we have you on video," said Dorian. "Would you like to revise your statement? I have a tablet right here."

John glanced at the stylus under Dorian's fingers. They were slowly, gently, moving back and forth along its length, imperceptibly increasing speed. John swallowed. Was this his imagination? He looked at Dorian's face. Nothing.

The perp sighed and agreed to revise his statement. Dorian pushed the tablet and stylus toward Mr. Taylor, and John, unable to sit any longer, got up to get a cup of coffee.

In the break room, John considered the last few weeks. Ever since that day in the squad car when John had learned that the DRN, unlike the MX, was designed to look – and function – like a male human in every way, he had felt like Dorian was gently mocking his discomfort. Dorian looked longer into his eyes, stood closer to him at crime scenes, and frequently "accidently" bumped into him in the break room. John shifted in his boots. The laundry service must have shrunk his pants.

…

"John, why must you eat in the car?" Dorian asked, watching John bite into his burger.

"Because it saves time. If I have to drive and I have to eat, why not do both at the same time?" John took another bite as a blob of burger toppings dropped onto his thigh. "Dammit! For chrissakes; it's 2048 – you'd think by now someone would've invented a transporter! Then ZAP, we could be where we needed to be and I could eat at a table."

"A transporter?" Dorian queried. Blue lights traced his cheek as he searched his database. "A vehicle?"

"No – a transporter! Like in Star Trek – you know, 'Beam me up, Scotty' and all that?" John looked down at the blob on his pants in frustration.

"I'm not familiar with Star Trek," responded Dorian.

"My mom loved the old shows – I've seen every episode and film, even the ones from the 20th century. Great stuff, man."

Dorian shook his head. "You'll have to show me, John. I don't have access to those film archives. What is this condiment?" He reached out a finger and scooped the blob off of John's thigh. John felt an electric jolt in the pit of his stomach.

"It's jalapeno mayonnaise. Hot and creamy at the same time. And I'd appreciate it if you'd keep your fingers to yourself."

Dorian looked at the white blob on his finger with curiosity, then licked it off, sending another spurt of blue across his cheekbone.

"What the hell, Dorian?" John almost yelled, though he knew that Dorian had sensors in his mouth that could analyze ingredients and substances. That feeling spiked in the pit of his stomach again.

"Yes," said Dorian, "hot and creamy at the same time."