Just as he predicted, Connor was cleaning again when Hank got home. The android was standing by the sink, towel in hand, wiping down the dishes that had not quite dried from their spin in the dishwasher before putting them away. The whole damn house was cleaner than the day Hank had moved in at this point.

"Hello, Hank," Connor said pleasantly.

"CyberLife's crowning glory and you spend your day doing the dishes?" Hank said instead of a greeting.

He turned to Hank, head cocked to the side and a mildly bewildered expression on his face. "I haven't spent the whole day on the dishes," he insisted. "I also cleaned the bathroom, did laundry, and implemented an organizational system for the hall closet."

"Missing the damn point, Connor," Hank responded, but couldn't hide the amusement in his voice. He dropped his shopping bag onto the counter before he shrugged off his coat and hung it on the hook by the door. Connor's grey CyberLife jacket hung on the hook next to it. He wished the kid would get rid of that damn thing. "Besides," he continued. "I already had a system for that closet."

Connor closed up the dishwasher and hung the towel over the sink to dry. "But everything was just piled on the shelves without any sort of order."

"Yeah," Hank agreed. "That's my system."

Connor didn't respond, but his LED flashed yellow. Hank sighed, making his way over to the deviant. "Look, I'm just saying, a little mess never hurt anyone. You don't need to spend all damn day cleaning."

"It is scientifically proven that a tidy environment is beneficial to one's health," Connor countered.

"Tidy sure," Hank agreed, "not sterile. Connor, you're going a bit overboard, don't you think?" He put a hand on Connor's shoulder when the android didn't respond. "Look, I'm not mad or anything, just, you don't need to do all this."

"I know," Connor insisted. "I just…" he trailed off, uncertain of what he should say.

Hank gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Look, son, I know you want to help out and that's fine. I'm not gonna stop you. I just don't want you doing this because you think you owe me or some shit. It feels like you're trying to justify being here or something."

Connor's LED turned red for a moment and Hank knew he had guessed right. "I… Just wanted to be of assistance," he said, confirming his suspicion.

"And that's fine," Hank assured him. "Honestly, it's been nice having the help, but this is your home too now. You don't need to earn your place or anything alright?"

"Alright," Connor agreed with a slight smile, his LED cycled back to blue.

"Good," Hank ruffled his hair before making his way back to where he had put the plastic bag. "As long as you know that, you can clean whatever the fuck you want."

"Really?" The android almost sounded excited. "I do have an idea for some organizational adjustments to your room."

"Hell no," he shot back over his shoulder. "Everywhere except my room."

"Very well," Connor conceded, much to Hank's relief.

Hank shook his head in amusement. "Anyway, now that that bullshit is settled. I got you something."

Confusion was back on Connor's face as though the very idea that someone would give him a present baffled him. "Got me something?"

"Yeah, here." Hank retrieved the plastic bag from the counter and passed it over to Conner. "It's nothing fancy, but I thought you might get some use out of it."

Curiously, Connor looked into the bag before pulling out the items. It was a sketchbook, paired with a set of watercolors and some brushes. He stared at them for a moment as though processing what he was seeing. "Hank," he said, looking up at the man, "thank you."

Hank smiled at the pure gratitude in the android's expression and made a mental note to get him things more often. "Eh, don't mention it," he told him with a wave of his hand. He headed to the fridge so he wouldn't need to look Connor in the eye. The kid had a way of ripping out his heartstrings without even trying. "Like I said, shit's pretty cheap, not like the stuff you used over with Carl. Just figured it might be fun for you to try."

"Thank you, Hank," he said again. He watched as Hank pulled out a beer and popped off the cap. He lost his grip on it and it bounced once off the countertop before hitting the floor and rolling under the fridge. Connor's eyes followed it the whole way, but he remained silent as Hank made no effort to retrieve it. "I think I missed painting. When I was staying with Carl, I believe it was helpful in sorting through my emotions."

Hank nodded, taking a drink. "Good, I hope it helps." He knew he didn't need to elaborate on what he was hoping it would help with. If Connor couldn't talk about his nightmares, maybe he could paint them. "Besides," he went on. "You needed something to do that doesn't involve scrubbing the floors down to the damn foundation."

Connor's eyes strayed back to where he knew the bottle cap had landed beneath the fridge for a moment before he gave Hank a coy smile. "I am certain I will be able to find time for both."

-o-

Connor happily tested out the paints right away. Or rather, tasted them. He had selected an old mug from the cupboard to use for the brushes and settled down on the couch with the sketchbook, Sumo asleep next to him. Hank was relaxing in his armchair. The game was on the TV, but Connor was proving to be more entertaining to watch.

"You know, you're supposed to draw with that stuff, not eat it," he couldn't help but comment.

Connor looked up at him, two fingers still pressed to his tongue as he sampled the light green pigment. "I'm not eating them, Hank," he corrected, lowering his hand. "I'm analyzing them."

"Yeah, you've said that. Still looks like you're eating it." Hank leaned over to rub Sumo's head as the dog lumbered over to lay down at his feet. "Why are you analyzing it anyway? It's paint, not evidence."

"So I know which one to use," he answered simply, as though that explained everything. He touched his fingers to the pad of yellow paint and proceeded to run his sample.

"You need to analyze it for that? Why not just pick a color and go with it?"

Connor finished running the new sample and turned back to Hank. "I need to know the chemical components so I know which one feels right."

"Wait," Hank clarified. "You pick what paint to use by what it's made of?"

"Yes, that's right," Connor confirmed. "Each of the different elements have a different feel to them. I try to match them to the feeling I am attempting to portray." He frowned slightly, LED spinning yellow. "Is that an inappropriate way to proceed?"

"Well, no," he assured him. Sumo whined as Hank sat back in his chair, no longer scratching his ears. "I don't think there's any wrong way to do it. I just never heard of that before." He gave him a smile. "You're fine, kid, just fuckin' weird."

"I believe I can live with that," Connor responded with a smile of his own.

Hank chuckled. He grabbed his beer from where he had set it on the coffee table and took a drink before he spoke again. "There's something else I wanted to run by you."

Perceiving it as important, Connor set down his paints, giving Hank his full attention. "What is it?"

"I talked to Captain Fowler today," his thumb picked at the label of the beer bottle absently as he spoke. "What do you think about coming back to work?"

Connor was silent for a moment. Hank knew it wasn't exactly an easy answer. Not that he wouldn't want to work for the DPD. They had talked about potential career paths for him before. Hank had suggested branching out, trying something else, but Connor had determined that he enjoyed police work.

But the world wasn't safe right now, especially for Connor. The kid hadn't even left the house besides his emergency repair run to New Jericho. Hank knew he was scared. And he had every right to be. He knew Markus was making it a point to let the deviant population know Connor could be trusted, but it had only gone so far. Just going to the android sanctuary, seeing the dirty looks they were sending Connor's way, had Hank on edge. He could only imagine how the kid was feeling.

Not to mention the shady shit CyberLife was pulling. They had sent him no less than three emails asking him to report in so they could 'discuss various options for his future'. That was bullshit if Hank had ever heard it. He had no doubt that if Connor answered the summons, they'd never hear from him again.

"I thought Markus was still working on android employment laws," Connor said at last.

"Yeah," Hank confirmed. "That's still kinda up in the air. Technically speaking, you'd be a consultant. You wouldn't be working a ton and not gonna lie, the pay is shit, but you'd have your foot in the door."

"Any compensation is more than I have received previously," he noted.

"That's not really a good thing."

"No," Connor agreed. "But I suppose it's a step in the right direction." Connor glanced out the window, a gentle snow had begun to fall. Whatever he was thinking, Hank had no clue. "I believe I would like to return to work," he said, still staring at the landscape.

"Good," Hank said. He relaxed his shoulders, not having realized they were tense to begin with. "The place is a shit show, we can definitely use your help."

"I will be happy to assist," he responded with a small smile in Hank's direction.

Connor turned to go back to his paints, but Hank stopped him again, clearing his throat uncomfortably. "There's uh, one more thing," he told him.

He looked at him quizzically, the innocence in his expression almost painful for Hank to look at. "What is it?"

Hank rubbed a hand over his beard, not quite able to meet Connor's eyes. He knew the kid wasn't really going to like this. "With all the shit that's happened. Well, Jeffery wants you to pass a psych eval."

It seemed to take a few seconds for Connor to register what Hank had just said. His LED flashing red momentarily before settling on a slowly cycling yellow. "He…" Connor paused, contemplating his words. "Captain Fowler is concerned about my mental stability?"

Hank sighed. He knew Connor didn't want to talk, but things weren't going to get better until he did. "You can't deny you've been through some serious shit lately. Hell you almost died a week ago. Android or not, that stuff can fuck you up. It's just a precaution." He looked over at him, concern in his features. "And maybe you could even, I don't know, talk to them about… whatever's going on."

He could tell Connor knew he was talking about the nightmares. The android had gone unnaturally still, even his LED stopped spinning. He stared straight ahead, face unreadable as he avoided Hank's gaze. "I suppose… it is an understandable precaution," he said at last.

Hank nodded slowly, hoping that meant Connor would take this as an opportunity to get whatever was going on out in the open despite the dismissal. "Good, the precinct psychiatrist can see you tomorrow if that works for you."

Connor finally turned to look at him. There was a tension in his expression, but he was relieved to see there was still an openness there. "I suppose it is as good a day as any," he said.

"Good, I'll set it up." Hank stood, pausing only to ruffle Connor's hair on the way to the kitchen to dispose of his now empty bottle. "It'll sure as hell be nice to work with you again."

"Will we be assigned to work with each other?"

Hank didn't miss the note of excitement in the kid's voice. He smirked to himself as he tossed his bottle into the recycling bin. "Yeah, if that's ok. Jeffery wants me to keep an eye on you or some shit."

"Whatever the reason, I will be happy to work with you," Connor said as Hank returned to the living room.

He pet Sumo's head once, earning him a soft snore, before settling back into his chair. He gave Connor a warm smile that the android returned without hesitation, his LED finally returning to blue.