"Hey, Valentine."
The detective was sitting on a threadbare couch on the other side of the small room. The lantern between them cast an orange glow over him, warming the folds of his shirt and the angles of his worn face. June was leaning against the wall, looking outside through a splintery hole in the door. They'd arrived at the mostly-intact house at sunset and she had been sporadically keeping watch as Nick checked the inside of the house and settled in. Their bags and shoes were in a neat pile near the coat rack. There hadn't been any visible movement through the door in the past hour besides the wind shaking the dead trees. He glanced up at her voice, the yellow eyes meeting hers. She was never going to get completely used to the way they looked. The skin on her back prickled, not unpleasantly.
"Hm?"
"Does that hurt?"
She knew already, but would rather him talk over the silence of the house. Really, she would gladly listen to his nasal tenor voice ramble about anything at any time.
Nick looked closer at his skeletal right hand and finished tightening a tiny screw near his wrist. He flexed the hand open and shut a few times before wiggling the fingers in a sinuous wave.
"No, just some maintenance. Since this one lost the protective coating it's easy to get the fine control out of whack." Satisfied with his handiwork, he tossed the screwdriver down next to the lantern with a clatter. "Wouldn't get loose so often if I was a south paw, but I guess old habits die hard."
His coat was folded on the coffee table in front of him and his hat was tipped back on his head. Her eyes drifted over his face and were pulled to the sharp rift in the skin along his jaw exposing the wires, cords, and metal framework beneath. He had rolled his shirtsleeves up to the elbow, showing one grey-skinned forearm and the other made of metal and bunches of wire. He stretched his arms back, the cloth of his shirt tightening against his chest and the pistol holster he wore looped around his shoulders. One of his shirt tails had pulled out of his slacks, leaving a tiny stripe of hip and stomach exposed. He left his hands dangling behind his head and slouched further into the seat cushion, cutting a fairly evocative pose. He didn't seem to notice.
It was funny to her, the rapid evolution of how she thought about him since they'd met. The leaping fear and confusion from the first time she'd met him and seen the glow of his eyes from under the shadow of his hat brim. The fear quickly leaving as he spoke to her as casually as a friend she hadn't seen in a long time. A new blossom of curiosity as she worked with him and osmosed little bits of information about him. Curiosity shifting to interest the more he told her about his history. And the interest getting quite a bit less innocent as she saw what kind of a man he was. Smart and sarcastic, subtle and driven, honest and sometimes really scarily observant.
"I wonder if the gen threes have to deal with this sorta thing. Probably not, the bastards," he mused, sounding amiable about it. His fingers tapped a quick rhythm on the couch's back as he looked up at the ceiling. "Never put much thought into getting myself repaired by a professional but it might be time to think about it. Doctor Amari's specialty is the mind and memory, but maybe she has some connections that could do something for me," he trailed off.
June jolted back to reality, realizing she'd been staring rather obviously at the tantalizing curve of bare hip showing below his shirt. Guiltily she looked up, and mentally kicked herself at the candidly amused look on Nick's face as he watched her. She was usually so good at limiting the staring or realizing when he was about to turn towards her. I'm losing my touch, she thought, exasperated.
He chuckled and tipped a wink her way. "See something you like? Can't blame you, a good-looking fella like yours truly." He was joking with her, but he wasn't off the mark at all.
The door had been watched enough for tonight. June stepped around the splintered end table between them and sat down next to Nick, sinking into the worn seat. Her pistol went on the table, and she took off her jacket and tossed it over the back of the couch. Giving the coffee table an intense stare-down for a few minutes, she came to a decision. She propped her elbow on the cushion behind her and turned towards him. He was still sitting the same way, but he looked sideways at her, expectantly.
"I might," she said.
His brows furrowed slightly. "Might what?"
"See something I like." A brazen grin was on her face.
His smile returned, albeit puzzled, and he coughed. "You're makin' me blush, doll."
"Let me ask you something, Nick."
He finally lowered his arms, mirroring her and leaning one back in the same manner. Their hands were nearly touching. "Alright." The end of the word tilted up, close to being a question. He was keeping so still, but she could see the rise and fall of his chest as whatever air exchange system he had pulled his breaths in and out.
"Can you feel things? Like, your sense of touch."
"Ah, back to that, hm..." he paused. "Funnily enough, I can. I don't know why the institute would bother, but they did. I can feel pressure, temperature, texture, wet, sharp. Pain as well, for some demented reason."
"Pleasure too?" she asked. She was pushing it hard, but he didn't seem put off. She shifted her legs around.
Nick raised an eyebrow only the slightest bit. "Sure. At least going from memory, everything's pretty similar to what a human would feel."
Hesitantly, June reached over and touched Nick's arm; gently drawing her fingertips over the skin of his inner wrist and around over the back of his hand. He was warm. And softer than she'd expected. While the skin didn't have exactly the same give or texture as the real thing, it was close enough. The strangeness was exciting.
Nick's eyes flared open, bright golden hoops in the dim light. They shot to where she'd touched him and then darted over her face, searching for something. "Is that what this is about?"
"You sure are being dense, detective." Her heart was hammering and it sounded like his voice was coming from the moon, but damned if she didn't want to jump his robotic bones right now.
"Now, look, you crazy dame." He sounded amused and a little pained. He tipped his hand up, as if to calm someone who was about to fly off the handle. "I really think you're fantastic, but you know I'm not a human. We're two completely diff-"
June grabbed the front of his shirt in both hands and silenced him with a kiss.