"Un-fucking-believable", Lieutenant Hank Anderson loudly complained as he shivered from the cold. "Middle of fuckin' Christmas and they still want us on patrol. I should be at home drinking some hot cocoa, not freezing to death."
"It's an unfortunate, but understandable choice, Lieutenant", the ever-reasonable voice of his robotic partner interjects. "The department must be stretched thin this season. Christmas nearly always provokes a rise in thefts and other crimes motivated by greed. It's rather ironic, I think!"
"Didn't ask for your opinion, Connor", Hank replies, though despite the words involved, his tone indicates a warmth most of his friends would consider unusual.
It was a goddamn miracle he was still employed, all things considered. After all, he did contribute to a large-scale robotic uprising – the words still sound stupid as all hell when he puts them all together like that – that threw the entire country into an economic and cultural upheaval.
He did almost lose his badge, and wasn't allowed to investigate anything for a long, long time. Connor visited him semi-regularly ("Not as regularly as I would like, Lieutenant", he'd often say to him) so he wasn't bored outta his skull. Eventually, though, things worked out. The chief decided firing the two of them would be a "major dick move", in his words, after everything that went down.
Of course, now he sort of wished he was still on house-arrest.
"What do they expect us to find, looters?" He asked rhetorically. Connor opened his mouth to say something, but then realized Hank was just blowing off steam. He was getting better at that, Hank thought.
For an android designed to play well with humans, Connor sure was naïve back during their first days together. It was like he only had the data about how humans acted, but no knowledge of how to apply it. Hank wondered what benefit designing an android like that had? Then again, who knows what that Kamski bastard was thinking, anyhow.
Hank coughed. "I don't remember it being this cold last Christmas."
"I wish I could relate, Lieutenant. I turned off my sensitivity to temperature a while ago."
"Lucky bastard… Hey!" Hank stopped in the middle of his griping as he noticed a man hurriedly fleeing a supermarket.
Connor shot him a meaningful look. "You suspect that man is up to something?"
"I don't know if 'suspect' is the right word, but my gut is telling me-" Hank paused once again as he noticed a cashier exiting the supermarket in pursuit. "-Yep. Looks like this evening's not gonna be all boredom, after all."
"Race you to him!" Connor joked, winking at Hank. He'd learnt how to do that without bugging out recently.
Hank just nodded, now all business. At least this'd give him an excuse to not pay attention to the cold. The cashier stopped in her tracks, apparently happy to let the policemen do their job. Lazy bum…
They raced the apparent thief all the way to a dark alley with no exit, which was great if he wasn't armed and very risky if he was. But Hank wasn't about to let Connor die for the umpteenth time, so he unholstered his pistol and pointed it at the man. "Alright, put the goods on the ground, mister."
The criminal nodded, looking quite scared, and placed the items he was holding onto the ground, letting the duo get a good look at them.
"Hmm. Diapers, baby bottles, and several cloths." Connor remarked, looking at the perp with that eternal curiosity of his. "These are strange things to steal, don't you think?"
Hank looked uneasy. "Probably… he's probably got a baby on the way, or something." He mumbled.
The thief seemed relieved that they weren't shooting first, asking questions later. "Yes, that's exactly it! I just lost my job recently, and, and I'm going to be a father soon, but I have no way to provide for my family anymore! This was my only choice!"
Hank grimaced. These were always the worst kinds of thieves to apprehend. Not because they were bad, but because they made you feel bad. "Well, sorry to say, but the law's the law. We'll have to take you in-"
"Wait! Lieutenant, hold on. I have a gut feeling of my own." Connor told him, raising his hand. "Mister, what is your name?"
"F…Frank. Frank Thompson."
Connor paused for a moment. To a normal person, he'd appear to be sleeping with his eyes open, but Hank knew he was probably searching for some information in that huge database in his head. Finally, he spoke again. "Detective. His name and physical appearance matches with an employee who was working at CyberLife, before its dissolution."
Hank mulled the new information over. That made it infinitely worse. "So this guy – he's had to resort to stealing because of what we did?"
"That's right." Connor replied, and looking at his expression at that moment, Hank thought he seemed unusually… human.
"Damn." Hank exclaimed. The criminal seemed uncertain of what was going on, but didn't move to escape.
On one hand, he could do his job and take this man for wanting to take care of his son, or daughter, or whatever it was gonna be. On the other, he could just lie and tell the cashier they didn't manage to catch him, and give the poor guy a break. I mean, technically this is kind of their fault.
And Markus' fault… and Jericho's fault… and if you want to split hairs, Kamski and CyberLife's fault for making the androids and causing Detroit's economy to center around them. But him and Connor were the two that were here, right now.
Hank smiled a somewhat-bitter smile and addressed the desperate man cowering in front of him. "Y'know what, man? Just take 'em and go. It's the season of giving, right?"
Frank looked absolutely jubilant. "Thank you, thank you so much!" He said to them as he ran off the way he came.
Connor gave him a pleased smile. "I knew you'd come to the same conclusion I had, Lieutenant."
"Yeah, well, don't expect it to happen twice", Hank remarked.
"I'll make sure to transfer an equivalent amount of cash to that supermarket later, to make up for it", Connor stated. "With my own salary, of course. Wouldn't want a repeat of the Eden Club investigation."
Hank groaned and rubbed his temples. "Don't remind me! The other guys at the department still makes jokes about 'Hank the Horndog' every opportunity they get!"
"Oh, I'm sorry for stressing you, Hank!" Connor told him with a hint of sarcasm, disguised as it always was by his constant polite tone. "If it would make you feel better, I can always use my new income from being recognized as an actual citizen for something more to your liking. Such as… bar-hopping, perhaps?"
Hank raised an eyebrow. "You, the most straight-laced cop in all of Detroit, want to skip out on our job to go bar-hopping with me?"
Connor winked at him again. "It is the season of giving!"
Hank gave him a grin so wide, it seemed borderline uncharacteristic. "You're learning, you clever son of a bitch!"
Hank downed his fifth beer and licked his lips. "Ah, nothing beats a nice, cold beer when you've had a hard day."
"I'm curious, Lieutenant. What is it about alcoholic drinks that attracts you?" Connor asked him. "I always thought it was to forget about the loss of your son, but moving on from it doesn't seem to have diminished your appreciation for them."
"Well, that was part of it, yeah", Hank explained. "And don't worry, I don't plan to end up passing out again. But I always was a hard drinker, even in my 'good cop' days."
"You're still a good cop, I'd say."
"Well, definitely not when we're interrogating someone, that's for damn sure", Hank snarked. "Thanks for the compliment, though. But honestly, I don't have any real explanation for why we drink. Guess it's just a human thing."
"I see. Fascinating!"
"You just get excited every time I tell you something about humans, don't you?"
"I'm just always surprised about the breadth of complexity that the human condition has. I wonder if we androids will ever be able to truly replicate it."
"You mean, what… become human?" Hank scoffed. "Nah… you're way more interesting this way. Who knows, though? Ask Santa Claus for it, and he just might work his magic on ya!"
"Santa Claus? I thought he was fictional."
"He is fictional, dumbass", Hank replied. "Coca-Cola made him up, I think."
"You're not sure?"
"I forget most of the stuff people taught me as a child, honestly. Why don't you look it up?"
Connor considered the idea, and then stood stock-still for what Hank thought was a startling amount of time. "I tried to uncover the origins of the Santa Claus myth by looking it up on the internet. The results were… confusing."
"Yeah, I bet they were. It's not real, so people can make up whatever they want about it. That's the things about myths. Know what is real, though? You, me, this moment. That's the real stuff, the important stuff." Hank told him, sounding philosophical. "That's one of the things I think you taught me. Living in the moment."
"I agree our time together has paid considerable dividends. I hope I'll remain your partner for as long as you continue to work as a police detective, Hank." Connor said warmly.
Hank smiled at him, and then passed him an empty glass. "Here. I know you can't drink, but you can still use it to toast."
"What are we toasting to?"
Hank held his glass up and replied. "To being alive."