By the end of the week, Andrea's actually come to be impressed by Seven's prowess-not that she'd tell him; he'd just get cocky and act like she was flirting with him. While misogyny is thankfully not a part of Connor's nature, cheesy lines are definitely part of Bond's, and she doesn't need that in her life. Still, it's gratifying to find that Darren at least made some sort of an effort to be not entirely useless in making this damned module. There's a certain… reckless daring. As they refine the memory transfer system they're working on implementing, that will make Seven's traits increasingly desirable. They just need to tune the right balance.

Once they start sending Connors out into the world, well… it's not going to matter as much if one particular unit is preserved, because the next one will retain nearly all of the same information as the last. Still better if they live, but if they die they won't lose everything he learned, so taking calculated risks to win will be more desirable than it is now.

The reason Seven's been beating his brothers-every time making some awful quip that sets the same vein in Andrea's head throbbing, then bringing a sound of fatigued disgust from her lips-is that he cares more about impressing his team than he even cares for his own survival. And by impressing, she means earning a facepalm and groan from his handler.

'That was a hair-rowing incident!' after giving #04 a bald patch.

'I'm sorry, that was below the belt!' following a hard kick to #01's groin, which only worked because androids are given certain simulated weaknesses so as to better resemble humans.

'Have a nice trip, see you next fall!' after sweeping #05's feet out from under him.

"Is there an awful pun or joke cliche that you won't resort to?" she'd ask him, even though she knew the answer already.

No. It was no.

Connor's stupid-yet-marginally-useful Bond software always fades from that plastic grin of bravado into his normal programming. That constitutes an eager, soulful look to Andrea to see if he's impressed her-like a puppy having just successfully murdered his squeaky toy, pleased with himself on principle but realizing it only matters if his owner noticed and was somehow entertained.

Seriously, whoever designed those puppy eyes was an evil genius. Everyone is going to love the Connors-everyone he meets. You'd have to lack a soul not to be moved, whether you liked it or not.

Andrea's been thinking over the last few days. Realizing something. Normally they wouldn't talk with the droids beyond tests, but the company advised her to do as much improvisation as she could in order to glean every bit of value possible from this weird test they hadn't planned to do. So she complied, but… somehow his fucked-up software has made him interesting enough that as he keeps looking for reasons to talk to her, she keeps answering his many questions about life and the world and people. Though she told herself otherwise, she sees it now… she's acting like he's a pet. Like he's anything other than a PC she's stripping for parts that's going in the incinerator once she's done with it.

Andrea shakes her head. She can't afford to get sentimentally attached. Can't afford the churning in her gut that begs her to find a way to save him from the chopping block. He's going to die and she can't stop it. Best not to pretend otherwise.

Looking out over level -50, the top secret final level underneath the main android storage level that almost no one is allowed to go to, Andrea tries to focus on oversight. Connors #01-10, minus #09 which is in the shop getting his hardware tinkered with, are showing off their manual dexterity by picking a series of locks. Seven keeps beating the others by fractions of a second, validating the decision to pit them against each other. What he's teaching her right now, though, is that his desire to beat the others is what's setting him apart. Those fractions may not seem to matter much, but they could save his life-or someone else's, which would be quite good for the company's image.

The fights for today go similarly, with Seven landing a few more blows than his counterparts.

Insight is growing… that little spark of self-preservation and competitive drive, is that good for his performance? Sure seems to be. His slight edge is consistent. She writes that in her report-her theory that an undercurrent of constant low-grade anxiety may be key for achieving peak performance. The idea of needing to prove himself to earn his place seems to be a motivator. The desire to please someone-in this case, her-also seems to have an effect. What would Rue say? Something about negative and positive reinforcement. A two-pronged approach. The carrot, and the stick.

She makes sure to mention that she's not certain if this is a Darren thing, or whether it has more to do with Seven's apparent attachment to her, though of course the latter wouldn't have happened without Darren making Seven this way, so it's a bit of a moot point.

"Well, you edged out the competition slightly, but you're all banged up," Andrea tells Seven at the end of the session, walking over hastily. "You'll need some more of this." She grabs a large bottle of thirium and thrusts it at him-just a little bit too fast.

Andrea swears as some of the thirium spills onto Connor's suit. It's self-cleaning like most decent clothes these days, but that was still a waste of company resources, and her instinct to be polite takes over. "Oh damn, sorry, I got you all wet…" she exclaims in dismay.

Seven takes a sip of the blue liquid. "And yet, my martini is still dry." His eyes are twinkling as he takes another sip with aplomb.

She gives a pained sigh. "Why do I always walk into those? Don't answer that."

"I can step in on this one," says a familiar voice, one with an audible smirk. "Because you're secretly a masochist, just like your brother."

Andrea's face is filled with the annoyed amusement of a loving sibling as she turns. Standing there is her fraternal twin brother, Andrew, in all his fire-capped glory.

"Now, what makes my brother say that?"

"We work for CyberLife. Enough said." He takes a cheeky sip of the drink he brought down with him.

"You have a point," Andrea wryly admits.

Physically, the Stevenson twins couldn't be much more different-not just in gender, but in most other ways as well. She takes after their father most, visibly of African descent; he takes more after their mother, looking very Scotch-Irish with his straight red hair and pale skin. Even mentally, though, they diverge quite a bit: conversely, Andrea takes after her practical mechanics-minded mother, while Andrew bonded with his dad over 1s and 0s.

The twins are not completely dissimilar, however. They both have their mother's freckles, a fact which delighted their father. They're both very slender in body type. Their oval faces are laid out in the exact same structure; narrow chins, slightly longer downward-tilted noses-same distances between everything. Her eyes and lips aren't as narrow and sharp as his, but other than that there's a clear resemblance if anyone looks closely.

Unfortunately, few people do. They've had to fight most of their lives to get strangers to understand that yes, they are blood relations. For all his flaws, Seven's blasé acceptance of their siblinghood has been quite nice.

"Anyway, what are you doing down here?" Andrea asks bluntly to stop Andrew and Seven from grinning like old buddies. "More data-gathering, more tinkering with his software?"

"Uhh… yeah," Andrew says in such a way that Andrea immediately knows it's not his only reason for being here; he just chose the most convenient company-approved excuse. He's giving her that surreptitious sideways glance she's familiar with, an old tell and attempt to gauge whether she believed him, and he's noticed she caught it. "And I wanted to see how his practice was coming along," he tries.

At Andrea's narrowed gaze, he quickly adds an explanation. "You know, the coin tricks I like to do to stay sharp. He saw me doing them and asked about them, so I taught him. Quickly got better at them than I'll ever be. Make him show you sometime! I swear, he's insane."

Andrea frowns a bit. "And did you teach them to all the other Connors?"

He shakes his head in the negative. "Only him, because he's the one who showed curiosity. I felt like that should be rewarded. If the others had asked me, I would've given them the same advantage. That's how the world works, right? Put yourself out there, be rewarded. For whatever reason, that's Seven, and not the others."

"Hmm…" Andrea's intrigued by that. For a moment she wonders, is this something Darren did? Make Connor more curious? Maybe too curious...

Then a strange, cold feeling settles in around her viscera. Something is nagging at her. After a bit of mental searching, it becomes plain: 'I let him irritate me into talking about the furnace…' she remembers.

Did he take that as a reason to try and prove to CyberLife that he's too useful to be disposed of? He is programmed for a level of self-preservation regardless, but… what if it's more than that? Could this mean she inadvertently influenced the tests? Is he now more motivated to prove himself-to please her and the company, but with the ultimate goal of preventing his own demise?

His self-preservation drive is supposed to kick in for the sake of the current mission, not for his own sake...

Something's not adding up. That silly Bond module seems to be making him better at being reckless… though of course, he has no reason not to be reckless if he fears the incinerator. It's impress, or die.

No, not die-be shut down. She shouldn't think in such dramatic terms about a machine, she tells herself.

Yet something else is bothering Andrea. She's starting to feel like she's again struggling against another realization... like CyberLife has some extra top secret goal or motive she's just not seeing yet, but which isn't quite in line with what she's been told. Something more in the neighborhood of 'that info is strictly need to know, Mechanist Stevenson, and as of now you just don't need to know.'

Her puzzled brooding might have gone on longer, but while Connor's cute little flicking of his gold sovereign (where did he even get that?! Darren? Or Andrew?) amused her brother for awhile, Andrea's now noticing his hand waving in front of her face. "Sis?"

"Oh, uh… did you ask something? Sorry, Drew." She's the only one allowed to call him that; a relic nickname from childhood, just like him calling her Andy.

"Yeah, I wanted to know if you had a moment to talk."

Seven's coin is singing a lovely little song in Connor's mechanical hands. With him distracted, she doesn't feel the need to-like the parent of a toddler-keep him occupied somehow so he doesn't find any mischief to get into, like punching his brothers more. What a disturbingly apt metaphor, other than the part where his parents told him to. Then again, he does seem disproportionately eager to punch those other pre-release Connor versions.

A sigh escapes. "Sure, what about?"

Andrew draws closer. By the time he's right in front of her, he looks tense, and his cheek muscles are jumping in such a way that all of a sudden, Andrea is worried about him. The worry seems justified within seconds of him opening his mouth.

"Rue said she's seen you talking with Mr. November."

A pang hits her heart immediately. Why couldn't Rue keep her mouth shut?

Andrea doesn't want to say this, but now she has to. Rowan was to Andrew what Kalee was to her-a source of futile longings.

Unlike with Andrea and Kalee though, Andrew was Rowan's type. Her blue-haired friend thought 'glasses-wearing code monkey stick figure redhead' was the hottest shape a man came in. Neither of the twins understood caring about bodies, but it genuinely made no sense why her friend hooked up with someone less attractive to her, with fewer common interests. She could only see it as emotional self-harm, like Rue said.

Unfortunately, that self-harm not only hurt Andrea's friend, but her brother as well. He'd had partners since, but Andrea knew instinctively that there was still only one person for him.

"You're not telling anyone anything," Andrea warns. "Including Rue."

Andrew nods in acknowledgment, looking taut as a pulled bowstring.

"She's awake." Her heart sinks as she sees his relief and elation, knowing she has to deflate it immediately. "It's not good, Andrew. She's awake but it's not good."

His brow furrows darkly. "What do you mean? How can it not be good?"

"The damage to her brain was extensive. It was as bad as her dad feared and worse."

"Meaning?" he presses intensely.

"Meaning…" Andrea sighs heavily, hating this conversation but knowing she has to rip off the band-aid. "Meaning, when she woke up, she was pretty distraught. She didn't know what was real, didn't think she was in the right place; all she did was scream and rave about how everything was wrong, and fight the staff about staying in bed until they had to sedate her. And not just once-over and over and over again, every time she woke up."

She can see the dawning devastation in his eyes. Nodding soberly, she confirms his worst fears, all with a lead weight in her chest the whole time. Someone they'd known most of their adult lives was basically dead, at least mentally. "She remembers her mom and dad, but that's about it. When he asked her about her friends, she mentioned a bunch of names he'd never heard before. It's bizarre."

Andrea sees her brother's throat moving as he swallows. He's avoiding her eyes. 'So we're moving into the denial stage.'

"But she'll remember… right? It'll come back to her."

She knows what Andrew can deal with, so she softens the blow, for now. She doesn't want him to spiral. Shrugging her shoulders, she tells him, "maybe. There's just no way to be sure right now."

Unfortunately, even though she was careful enough not to lie, Andrew still seems broken by the news. His instincts are too good; he can read her like she reads him. "You know, I… I'm suddenly not feeling well. Think I'll head home early."

"Andrew…" his sister reproaches, grabbing his arm. A muscle jerks in his cheek, and his furrowed forehead crowns a face grown dark with painful emotion. "Come on, we just don't know right now… she could recover. And if not, well… is that so bad? You could have a second chance! If she's mostly herself, just without the same memories, maybe you and her could start again. After all, not remembering us means her ex is likely not a factor either."

That lifts a bit of the shadow from his face, but not enough for Andrea. He still looks unsettled and confused. Her brother nods, but just says, "I… need to think. Talk to you tonight."

All she can do is watch his retreating back.

Andrea sighs and takes a seat against a nearby wall, the padded floor as comfortable as the wall is not. She wraps her arms around her knees loosely, face grim. Whenever her twin starts brooding, she ends up brooding, too. Fraternal they may be, but not out of sync. The bond is real.

Ugh, bond... that word is ruined for her now; she can't even think it without grimacing.

It's not long before Seven brings his suited self and his flicking coin over toward her. That she expected, but she didn't expect him to take a seat in front of her, or switch to spinning the coin on his fingertip nice and quiet. She watches him blow on it to keep it turning. He lifts his gaze to watch her watch him as he switches to holding between in his fingers like a talisman.

"What upset Andrew so much?" Seven asks after a moment, sounding so endearingly and earnestly Connor, like he's supposed to, that she briefly forgets to be annoyed by his very existence in her universe. He really sounds like he cares for her brother's feelings. Like a concerned friend, unschooled in these matters but full of caring anyway. He just wants to help Drew. It makes her want to hug him, just a little bit.

Not that she'll tell him that.

"Love," she says quietly, bluntly.

Connor's brow furrows faintly in confusion. "Shouldn't love be a positive thing?"

"Unrequited love," Andrea specifies, then amends, "well… more like… requited, but resisted. Sometimes we humans do things that hurt us because we don't like ourselves all that much. So she started dating an unlikable douchebag just because he's smart, went to a good school, impressed her parents and friends before they saw his real self, and he knew how to, uh, satisfy a partner," she says uncomfortably, but thankfully Connor isn't leering for once. "He kept his inner asshole restrained until she was already so under his spell that she was no longer able to let go.

"I guess that's the investment fallacy she and Rue used to argue about. She'd already put so much effort into the relationship that she felt like she couldn't 'waste' that effort by letting go, but she should've cut her losses. Instead… well, you know the result."

Andrea waves her hand to dismiss that awful history, heaving a miserable sigh. "She had trouble believing anything good about herself. Rue talked about it being some personality disorder, I forget the name, but Rowan wouldn't hear it. Kept talking like, 'no, you don't understand, I don't have that excuse, I'm just right about how much I suck; I don't deserve anything good like your brother.' Not in those words, but that's how it sounded to me. It was the most frustrating thing about her, and I still don't get why she was like that. It never made any sense."

Connor seems to be consulting the relevant module. "Avoidant Personality Disorder seems the most likely candidate, based on that statement by itself. The disorder is associated with risk factors such as parental neglect, parental anxiety imparted to the child, overbearing or harshly critical parenting, bullying in school, and emotional trauma in childhood causing Complex-PTSD to form."

Andrea considers that, interested. She'd nearly forgotten that Connor was so well schooled in psychology, but of course he is-an investigator needs to be. "Well, I could check most of those off the list. I guess it does make sense, then. What are the symptoms?"

He lists them, and she nods down the list, ticking off on her fingers absently once he's done. "She was very reserved and uncertain around us until we sort of beat it into her head that we weren't only pretending to like her. Reluctant to believe most compliments. Criticisms hurt her badly if not gently given. She loved people, but could be awkward or self-conscious. And she was just not a risk taker. Didn't really stray out of her comfort zone very much unless we prodded her the right way. The only thing that could get her into action mode was caring; she'd take chances once she cared about someone if they needed her to... but that was also her downfall, because she just couldn't bring herself to ditch that wretched Devon. Does that track with what you just said?"

Seven nods.

"So yeah, seems like Rue was spot on."

Connor pinches his coin between his index fingers and thumbs, looking thoughtful. "Many doctors neglect their own health. It's likely that your friend had a similar tendency with her mental health. Studying psychology-and having great friends-" she smiles as he says that bit-"likely allowed her to reduce her symptoms to a manageable level, but not enough to truly move past their causes. Much like an antibiotic where the doses aren't quite finished, or a lyssavirus case with no repeat doses of treatment at the time of infection, having a positive effect but unable to cure the victim."

Andrea's head bobs up and down slightly. "She did get better on a lot of things over the years, but then her ex dragged her right back down again."

"Unfortunate that it ended so badly," Connor tells her sincerely.

"Yeah," Andrea agrees as she feels sudden tears slipping over her cheeks, affecting her voice. That kindness on his face broke through her defenses. Nothing will ever be the same again, not with one of her friend group possibly as good as dead.

When she looks back at Seven, she can see a poignant, lost expression on his face. He holds out his arms very tentatively.

Almost against her better judgment, she lets him hug her, sighing as she does so. Apparently his extra software does have its benefits, because she doesn't think Connor would normally reach for someone like this; it makes sense that Bond would be more demonstrative, with his love of trying to get into women's pants.

Luckily, Seven seems very Connor in his respectfulness. He doesn't get handsy, just hugs her very gently and lets her shed some tears. Andrea isn't much of a crier; she's usually the chill one. This is just a drastic situation and it's finally really hitting her, piercing her shock. He doesn't even make any saucy comments as she draws back.

"Sorry," she chokes out after a moment, wiping at her eyes and sniffling.

His smile is charming, now. Genuinely charming. "Goddesses need never apologize to their mortal attendants such as myself."

Something terrible happens: Andrea can't stop herself from smiling back. "Dork," she mutters.

"You wound me, dear lady." His smile doesn't budge.

"As long as you do maintenance, you're immortal and you know it. And you got my profession wrong; I'm a mechanic, not a goddess."

After a long moment or two, Connor asks something else. "Your brother, will he be all right?"

Andrea sighs. "Maybe? Maybe not. He's very sensitive under the hood. I could see him taking this to heart. Rowan was the one person he always seemed able to talk to, even though his feelings for her were a source of strain. He couldn't get over the frustration of knowing she would've been happier with him, but watching her hurt herself instead of dumping the douche for the person she actually wanted. His latest relationship seemed so promising at first, but ever since the news about her accident, Andrew's been a wreck. The tensions have been wearing on them. I'm pretty sure his guy's gonna end it soon. He doesn't seem like the type to put up with someone obviously pining for somebody else."

"Humans and their bonds seem… complicated," Connor notes, appearing pensive.

Andrea blinks, then nods. "Yup. I mean, look how complicated I am around you. All sorts of positive and negative feelings, all the time."

"That is a fine point," he agrees, seeming almost as surprised by her candidness as she was.

There's a space of silence. Finally, Andrea pushes herself up and dusts herself off, with a considerate hand up from Seven. "I'm gonna get some lunch," she tells him.

Then, after a hesitation, she spontaneously adds a phrase that she immediately regrets. "Want to come with?"

Her response is a huge grin. If Seven had a tail, he'd be wagging it.

Damn puppy eyes, reminding her of her friend's dog that she probably doesn't even remember raising.