"How'd you sleep?" Hank asked as soon as Connor came out of his room and made his way down the hall.
"My battery is sufficiently charged," he answered, shuffling into the living room. "What's all this?"
Hank smiled at him, not at all surprised the little android noticed the boxes he had stacked by the couch. "Pulled some shit out of the garage. Figured we should get you into some clothes that actually fit."
Connor wandered over to the unmarked boxes, taking a moment to register what he was saying. "You mean these are…" he trailed off, hesitant to finish his sentence.
Hank could feel his heart twisting. He knew Connor was tentative about anything involving Cole and he didn't blame him. It wasn't like he'd been great about getting over what had happened. But he had been trying. He would always miss Cole. But he didn't want that to affect his other son.
"Yeah, they were Cole's," he admitted. "You should be about the same size, so I'm sure we can find something that'll work for ya."
"Are you sure?"
Connor looked up at him with that hesitant look again, ready for Hank to take it back. Always asking him if he was sure. Always catering to his comfort levels rather than his own. The kid was a damn people pleaser if he'd ever seen one. "Yeah, I'm sure, kid," Hank insisted. "It's not like they're doing any good in the garage."
"Ok," Connor agreed, but he still looked unsure.
"Connor, listen," Hank said with a sigh. He absently picked at the corner of one of the boxes. "I wouldn't offer this kind of crap if I wasn't sure about it, ok? Hell, this'll probably be good for me. Letting go and shit, you know."
Connor's expression softened into a smile and his stance relaxed. "Well, if you put it that way," he conceded. He came closer as Hank popped the lid of the first box.
"Alright, let's get started then." Hank began pulling piles of semi-folded clothing from the box and stacking them within easy reach. "Something in here's gotta work for ya."
It wasn't long before the living room floor was practically covered in various articles of clothing. Hank's side was in far more disarray than Connor's but neither were being particularly thoughtful about where they were putting things. Sumo had decided to 'help' by napping on one of the piles nearby.
Connor held up one of the t-shirts, observing the stegosaurus on the front. "There are quite a few dinosaurs," he commented.
"Yeah," Hank let out a chuckle, a warm smile forming on his face. "Cole was obsessed. Said he wanted to be one when he grew up. I didn't have the heart to correct him."
Connor lowered the shirt gently, folding it and neatly stashing it in the pile to his right. "There is certainly a charm to the imagination of a child," he said.
"That's for sure," Hank agreed. He pulled a t-rex onesie from the box. It was practically new, Cole hadn't been fond of it. T-rexes were too common apparently. He knew damn well he'd never be able to get Connor to agree to wear it, but the mental image made him smile. "Maybe now that you're a kid, you'll grow an imagination of your own," he quipped.
"I have an imagination Hank," Connor insisted. He looked up at the man, noticing what he was holding. "For example, I can imagine what you are thinking, and there is no way in hell I'm putting that on."
"Fine, be that way," he said with an exaggerated sigh, folding up the onesie. "Have you at least found anything you like?"
Connor nodded, returning his attention to the pile of clothes. "There are a few items here that are business appropriate."
"Business appropriate?" Hank frowned. "The hell do you need business appropriate for?"
He pulled a blue hoodie from the pile, holding it out to inspect it thoroughly. "For work, of course," he responded.
Hank barked out a laugh. "I stand corrected, you do have an imagination."
Connor put down the hoodie, looking up at him confused. "What do you mean?"
"You don't honestly expect to go to work like that, do you?" Hank asked.
Connor's face turned down into a frown. "Of course I do. Why wouldn't I?"
"Because you're six!"
"Only physically," Connor retorted.
"Are you even hearing yourself, Connor?" Hank said, exasperated. "You are a six-year-old. There is no way in hell you are going to work as a homicide detective."
"It's my job, Hank," Connor argued. "My current physical limitations don't change that. We have a case to solve."
"Oh, you mean your own murder?" Hank scoffed. "I think you can sit this one out."
Connor rolled his eyes, unamused. "I'm not going to stop investigating just because I was killed."
Hank raised an eyebrow. "Are you fucking with me right now? You gotta be."
"I," he frowned, taking in what he said and acknowledging that there was an absurdity to it. "For most people, it would be cause for interruption. But I am not most people, Hank. I am perfectly capable of continuing the investigation."
"Cause for interruption?" Hank couldn't believe they were even having this argument. "Connor, your body is evidence!"
"Yes," he agreed, "and the sooner we solve the case, the sooner I can have it back."
The nerve of this kid. Hank shook his head in frustration. What would it take for him to take it easy for five goddamn minutes? "You know, there are other people who work there. People who have been solving cases since long before you were even a blip on CyberLife's radar."
"I know," Connor insisted. "I just…"
"Besides, there's no way in hell Jeffery would be on board with this."
A slight smirk found its way onto the kid's face as though he had just found exactly what he was looking for. "Very well, if you are so sure about that, then why don't we let him decide?"
Hank could play this game too. He nodded. "Alright, I can accept that." He was confident the Captain would side with him on this. True, child labor laws didn't extend to androids, but there was no way he would want a six-year-old running around his precinct even if it was Connor.
"I'll call him." Connor stared into the middle distance for a moment before his face scrunched in annoyance.
"Something wrong?" Hank asked.
Connor's frown deepened. "It would seem that this body was built without the ability to call people. Cybernetic communications appear to be offline as well."
Hank smirked, looking for all intents and purposes as though he had won the argument.
Connor shot him a dirty look. On his small face, it merely came off as petulant. "This doesn't prove your point, Hank. I don't need a phone to be a detective."
He sighed, turning back to the clothes scattered around them and starting to put the rejected ones back into one of the boxes. "You know, most people would be happy to get some time off."
"Most people don't have their own murder to solve."
Connor's voice was quiet and hesitant, causing Hank to look up at him. He wasn't meeting his eyes. He sat quietly, fingers absently tugging at a loose thread on a green and white striped t-shirt.
Hank bit down on the side of his lip, stomach twisting at how vulnerable Connor looked. "This isn't just you being stubborn, is it?" He asked.
Connor still didn't look at him. If he had an LED in this body, Hank was sure it would at least be yellow right now. "I can't just… do nothing," he admitted. "They killed me. I can't just… please, Hank?" He finally looked up at him and damn if those puppy eyes weren't more effective as a six-year-old.
He let out a groan, tossing a pair of shorts that he hadn't bothered to fold into the box. Fuck this kid. He could pluck his heartstrings like he was playing a fiddle. "We'll let Jeffery decide," he said, going back to their previous agreement. "We can head in tomorrow and talk to him. But if he says no, it's a no. Ok?"
Connor nodded, smiling up at him softly. "Thank you," he said.
"Don't thank me yet," he responded, shaking his head. "Fowler's gonna be a hell of a lot harder to convince than I am."
The little smile took on a bit of a cocky edge. "I like my chances," he smirked.
Good lord, that little asshole was gonna pull it off, Hank realized. He was good, he'd give him that. If Jeffery fell for it, that was his own damn fault. At the very least, it would be hilarious seeing everyone's reaction to the kid.
And he'd be there to look after him, that was the important part.
If he was being honest, there was a part of him that wanted him there at the precinct. He didn't want Connor investigating, didn't want him to be in any kind of dangerous situation, but he also didn't want to let him out of his sight. Who knew what he'd get up to if he left him home alone, and calling in a babysitter probably wouldn't go over well with him still technically having his adult mind.
"Alright, so we go in to work tomorrow," Hank relayed. "You give your spiel to Jeffrey and we'll go from there."
Connor nodded, almost bouncing in excitement having won the debate.
Manipulative bastard.
"Now go get changed," Hank told him. He tossed a rolled up pair of socks at his head, narrowly missing, and trying to hide the smile he felt creeping across his face. "You look more dorky than usual in those damn clothes."
