Taylor Swift - Dress
Connor knocked briskly on the door of Taylor's hotel room and waited. The hallway was quiet. He had passed no one on his way up aside from the receptionist android at the desk. The current time was 0803, early by most standards, but he had waited as long as he could manage before heading over.
The seconds continued to tick by. He listened but couldn't make out any sounds on the other side of the door. Could she have left the building already? He didn't think it likely that she would not have waited for him. A quick scan told him that the pipes were not active; she wasn't in the shower.
He knocked again, harder, and shifted on his feet. The stillness in the hallway suddenly felt ominous. He allowed another minute to pass while he suddenly gained an appreciation for why Taylor always moved her hands when she was anxious.
Connor raised a hand against the lock on the door. Hesitated. Then his human skin peeled away to reveal his white android hand beneath, which he pressed into the lock. It took a matter of seconds to hack, and the door clicked open.
Maybe he was being paranoid, but he had to be certain. Hadn't he promised to keep her safe? Alex must have left mere hours ago, he can't have failed already. He stepped into the room. The door swung shut behind him.
The television was on, he noted first, playing the news on low just as it had been the day before. Pillows dotted the bed, covers lying twisted and askew. The bathroom door stood slightly ajar, but no one was moving inside.
As he stepped further in, he noticed her coat lying across the vanity chair. His brow furrowed softly. The current outside temperature warranted the outerwear. He glanced around, scanning, looking for anything out of place. A sign of struggle.
His feet carried him toward the bathroom. He pushed the door inward until it bounced lightly against the wall. Empty. No water collected in the shower drain. None in the sink either. Her clothes from the previous day were in a small heap on the floor. Wherever she had gone, she hadn't stopped to get ready.
Stepping back into the room, he walked slowly toward the door again, scanning more closely for some clue. A fragment of DNA that wasn't hers. Something that didn't belong. His LED was flickering a deep red as he searched.
The knob rattled. He had made it to just a few feet away from the door, and his head shot up instantly at the sound. The door swung inward and Taylor appeared. She was wearing a matching set of athletic wear, kicking off her running shoes as she stepped inside.
When she finally looked up and saw him standing there, she screamed. He startled as she stumbled backwards into the door, her chest heaving. She stared at him and he could see her processing, the change in her expression as she realized it was him.
"Jesus Christ, Connor!" Pushing off the door, she stalked closer to him, glaring. "How the hell did you get in here? You nearly gave me a heart attack."
Running, it dawned on him. Taylor liked to run in the morning. Her cheeks were rosy with exertion. The blonde hair she had pulled into a ponytail had started to escape its bonds, and locks were sticking to her skin with sweat. He could trace beads of perspiration slipping down her face, her neck, the hollow of her throat. He swallowed.
"I apologize," he said, glancing away. "When you didn't answer the door, I became concerned. I hacked the lock on the door."
She sighed in exasperation and moved to step around him. A bottle of water stood sentinel on the nightstand, and she headed for that first. She chugged it as she went for her suitcase to dig for clean clothes.
"I didn't expect you this early," she said as she tossed a pair of jeans toward the bed. She didn't look at him as she kept digging for something to wear. "You know it's far too early to go shopping, right?" A shirt went sailing over to join the pants. "Not that I don't enjoy your company."
She finally paused, smiling over at him. He hesitated, "I'm sorry. It is rather early. I can come back later."
"Don't be ridiculous. You're welcome to stay as long as you like." She waved him off as she pulled a set of undergarments from her bag. He immediately averted his gaze, suddenly awkward. "You'll have to wait while I shower, though."
"Of course." He didn't turn around, even though he could hear her moving around the room now. Until the bathroom door clicked shut, he kept his brown eyes glued to the wall beside him.
"That looks open." Taylor pointed toward the shop just ahead. The two of them had been walking for a while, past darkened windows and closed signs. They had managed to find someplace for her to eat breakfast. She had insisted she would be incorrigible if she didn't eat after running. Finding anything open that sold clothing had been a challenge thus far.
Connor followed the direction of her finger and spotted the brightly lit display window across the street. A sign in minimalist typeface above the glass doors read 'Monk's Formal Attire'. She turned to him with a smile.
"Well, we can get you some new suits anyway." They stood waiting at the crosswalk, even though the traffic hardly warranted it. Taylor stuck her hands back into her pockets, glancing up at the overcast sky. The chill in the air suggested snow before the day was out, she just hoped to be tucked inside by then.
"They might know of something else nearby that's open," she said as the light finally turned, allowing them to cross. Connor nodded. She watched him in her peripherals as they made their way down the sidewalk. "Are you sure you want to do this?"
"Yes." He said it with no hesitation. Still, he had been acting strangely all morning. Quiet, just like the night before, evasive. Maybe she had created the silence herself, fumbling over words, trying to create distance.
He held the door for her, and she stepped into the shop, still thinking about how she couldn't ever say the right thing. Not when Connor insisted, when he looked into her eyes and said he wanted to stay with her. What could she say?
"Good morning!" A falsetto toned voice rang from somewhere beyond the counter. The two of them stared at each other in confusion, not seeing anyone in the shop. A rustling sound started before the door to the backroom popped open, bouncing off of the opposite wall and nearly crashing into the man who had opened it.
An older gentleman stepped onto the floor of the salesroom, peering around for them over a pair of pince-nez spectacles perched on his hooked nose. All skeleton and skin he appeared, at least a few inches taller than Connor with only two puffs of white hair left hovering above each ear.
"Ah, welcome, welcome! I was growing bored rearranging the bowties. Alistair Monk at your service." He came closer, extending his hand to them with an enthusiastic smile. His face was ancient, a map of lines and crevices that deepened with each expression. Connor accepted his handshake and he pumped his hand with gusto.
"Are you the owner?" Taylor asked, her face twitching with mirth as her companion stared in puzzlement. Alistair turned his attentions to her next. When their eyes met, she realized his were a steely grey.
"Owner, proprietor, and just recently promoted to salesperson." He smiled cheekily at her as he took her hand. "This android business has apparently run off a few of my employees. There was no one else to cover their shifts, so..."
"You stepped up. Very admirable." Taylor was still smiling when he released her hand. He was infectious. "My name is Taylor, and this is Connor."
"Delighted. What brings you in?" He glanced between them over his spectacles, his eyes twinkling. "Wedding, perhaps? I do love weddings."
"Um," she opened her mouth and closed it again, floundering. Her face felt hot, but she forced herself to say, without looking at Connor, "Actually, my friend here would like to try on some suits. And I'm just browsing. I guess."
"Well then, right this way. I'll take your measurements." Connor sent her a fleeting look of doubt before he was led away. A chuckle escaped her before she turned to survey the rest of the store.
Aside from a substantial arrangement of men's formal wear, there was indeed a large selection of women's gowns as well. She certainly didn't need any more dresses, though most of the pieces she wore were just loans for events. A shiny ball gown wouldn't keep her warm in the Detroit winter, either.
The rack of ties drew her attention, and she started picking over the patterns distractedly. The faint sound of Alistair's chattering filtered from the back with Connor's infrequent and short responses punctuating. Her lips curved as her fingers traced the edge of a deep blue tie. At first glance the small spots looked like polka dots, but on closer inspection were actually tiny dogs.
Picking it up, she ventured further on, into the rows of dresses. Somehow, she was drawn toward the row of white lace and silk. Her fingers traced the pearl collar of one of the gowns as she thought of her mother's wedding. The second one, to Anthony Jacobsen, where she had been the flower girl.
A giant, glamorous affair, she remembered. Anthony had insisted on it. She had worn a pink satin gown and had her hair curled, scattering rose petals down the aisle of the church. Jake had been the ringbearer. The reception had been equally extravagant.
At eight years old, she had been both out of place and right at home. Intoxicated adults wandered up to her all night asking her to sing the Chloe theme song, indulgent at everything she said. In Hollywood, everything always played out like a very elaborate stage setting where the people always knew their roles.
Anthony had approached her for the first time that night, cornered her alone by a stairwell to tell her how pretty she looked in her dress. Since their very first meeting, she'd done her best to avoid him at all cost. A darkened corner at a party had been her first true taste of panic.
"Taylor?" She turned, her fingers falling away from the pearls. Connor stood at the end of the aisle, watching her with furrowed brows. She must have been lost in her thoughts for a while, for he had changed into a new suit. Simple, tapered black, absent of a blue band, of a logo, of his model number.
"How do you feel?" He looked down at his clothes, his features smoothing once more. Taylor stepped closer to him, away from the wedding dresses, nervous to be caught amongst them though she wasn't sure why.
"Strange." He lifted his dark brown eyes to her blue and smiled a bit uncertainly. "I don't feel anxious like I did before, but it is unsettling. I think I will have to adjust."
"Well, it looks good on you." She returned his smile and held out the tie toward him. "I found something else."
Connor glanced at the tie curiously, his LED flickering. When he noticed the pattern, his eyes widened just a fraction. Her smile broadened as she took another step toward him, reaching for his tie.
"I can wear this?" He watched her loosen his tie and pull it free, sliding the blue one around his neck in its place. Her fingers brushed against his collar as she tied it. With a final tug. She pulled it into place.
"I don't see why not. Isn't the point of this to wear whatever you want?" Taylor released the tie, surveying her handiwork with a nod. "It suits you. It's a shame they don't look like Sumo."
"I like it." He touched the edge of the tie, and then looked up at her again. The smile that touched his face was soft, slight, and sent her heart stumbling. "Thank you."
"Ah, there you are. What do you think?" She jumped as Alistair's cheerful tone sounded from the aisle behind her. They must have both been looking for her, she realized, after she'd wandered off into the store.
"You do impeccable work." She conceded, turning.
"I'm glad that you agree." He smiled at her over his spectacles. "Is anything out here catching your eye?"
Taylor again felt her presence in the wedding section acutely, though Alistair didn't point it out as he waited for her response. "I don't really need any formal wear per se. But you've done such a great job, how can I say no?"
"I was hoping you'd say that. I have just the thing in mind." Alistair offered her an arm, which she accepted, and led her back through the aisles, motioning for Connor to follow. He deposited the both of them near the fitting rooms.
He reached for the tape measure and began to take her measurements. Taylor stood perfectly still and straight while he did so, holding her arms out for him while he moved around her. She noticed he didn't bother to write anything down. He glanced over her, a touch of amusement in his features.
"Ballet?" He asked. She blinked and followed the direction of his gaze to her feet. The heels were touching, feet pointed outward. First position.
"When I was younger. Habit," she said, shifting so they were parallel once more.
"Why did you stop?" He raised an eyebrow at her.
"I got older. Grew hips." She gave him a self-deprecating smile. "I had enough going on in my life at the time. I didn't want to worry about whether I was the right size to be a prima ballerina."
"That's a shame."
"I didn't give up dancing." She shrugged offhandedly. "I just moved on to other kinds."
"I'll be back," He patted her arm before retreating back into the aisles. Taylor turned to glance at Connor. He had taken a seat in one of the chairs to the side. One hand one rested against his knee, but the other was still touching his tie. His hickory eyes were fixed on it, though she couldn't imagine he hadn't been listening in on the conversation.
She took a moment, again, to appreciate his features. Not only because he was attractive, she'd admitted that on their first meeting. No, something in Connor's face, in the way his expressions shifted, how his eyes stayed so intent. Every movement he made was so incredibly human. Without that glowing circle of blue on his temple, there would be no way to tell him apart.
Even before he was deviant, he had been different from other androids. She knew it instinctively and had been drawn to it then. Because a part of her knew that if he belonged to CyberLife, he was safe. Maybe that's why, now that he was deviant, free to feel whatever he wanted to, she was afraid.
Connor glanced up, caught her gaze and held it. That familiar ache bloomed in her chest and she wondered if this is what he meant when he told her that he felt compelled to touch her. She thought of the warmth of his body, the soft press of his lips, the safety in his arms. How her heart had trembled as his fingers traced along her skin.
"Here you are." Alistair appeared at her shoulder, looming unintentionally with his impressive stature. He hurried her toward the dressing room with the gown before she could get a proper look, just a glimpse of blue before he was pushing her into the small room. The door shut with an audible click. "Let me know if you need assistance, my dear."
Taylor huffed, hanging the dress on a hook by the mirror so she could see what he had chosen. The dress was a perfect blue to complement the tie she picked for Connor, with long sleeves and a beaded, square neckline. The fabric was rich, heavy velvet with a long slit up the left leg.
Certainly not her usual flashy style, but elegant. She started pulling off articles of clothing while her mind fell back into the thoughts that Alistair had unwittingly interrupted. Faintly the sound of his voice could be heard murmuring through the dressing room door, once again sparingly interrupted by Connor's responses.
She stepped into the gown, her mind still spinning in circles. So much had happened in the span of just a couple of weeks that she never really gave it serious thought, no matter how many times the people around her kept pointing it out. Reaching around, she struggled with the zipper as she struggled with the thought, turning it over and over.
With the zipper secure, Taylor turned and stared at her own blue eyes in the mirror. She couldn't look down at the dress. Her eyes were stuck on the distressed shock etched into her expression.
She was in love with Connor.
The knock on the dressing room door made her flinch. Alistair's voice came from the other side, "Is everything okay?"
No. She finally managed to spare a glance at the dress. Beautiful, and it fit like a glove of course. All she wanted to do now was crawl into a bed somewhere and rethink her life choices. Definitely not walk out of this dressing room and face Connor.
She took a deep breath, in through her nose, and opened the door. Alistair beamed down at her. "Perfect."
When he led her back out to the seating area, she forced herself to follow. Connor stood when they approached, but she couldn't look at his face, not with this new realization tumbling around inside her skull. Alistair stood her beside him, saving her the indignity of avoiding eye contact.
"Excellent. The two of you make a handsome couple." This brought her eyes up. Alistair was smiling. Connor was looking at her, and for once she couldn't read his expression. His LED was its placid blue.
"We'll take them. Connor will need more than one suit." This had the desired effect. Alistair busied himself with picking new patterns and colors, Connor his reluctant victim. Taylor retreated back to the dressing room to change out of the dress.
She emerged pulling her coat back over her shoulders. Trailing the now familiar sound of Alistair's voice, she found the two of them comparing ties and pocket squares. Connor seemed more relaxed in the older man's presence than he had been initially. She approached them hesitantly, but Connor turned immediately when he heard her coming closer.
"I believe we're done here, my dear." Alistair followed Connor's gaze and smiled at her. "Unless you would like to shop some more?"
"No, I don't think so." Taylor tried to look away from Connor's chocolate eyes, but she was trapped in his gaze, in her feelings.
"Well, Connor, let's have you change, and I can get all of this packaged up." Mercifully, he turned away. While they headed back, she went toward the counter. Groaning, she dropped her head in her hands.
"Now what, Taylor," she muttered. This had been a lot easier when she was in denial, or blissful ignorance, or whatever delusion she had broken around herself. Now she would have to face it. Connor, who could read ever beat of her heart and lie that she told, would know.
The persistent trill of her phone cut suddenly through her thoughts. She didn't know if it had been ringing for a while, but she dug it out of her coat pocket. The screen showed a private number. Her brow creased, but she slid the icon to answer, knowing if she hesitated much longer that she would miss the call.
"Hello?"
"Taylor Kolbeck," the voice on the line stated clearly. Taylor didn't recognize it immediately, but that didn't mean much in her line of work.
"Yes. Who is this?" She shifted, propping her elbows on the counter and resting the phone against the crook of her neck.
"My name is Alexis Headley." The phone almost slid from her shoulder and she had to scramble to press it back to her ear. Her heart started to pound. "I'm the Secretary of Homeland Security."
"I know who you are," she breathed. A huff of laughter sounded on the other end of the line.
"I'm sure that I have to explain who I am far more often than you do." The subtle tone of condescension was so familiar that she barely paid it any attention. "I received your number after I reached out to the leader of the android revolution, Markus. I was informed that you are their new ambassador, along with an RK800 formerly designated to the Detroit Police Department."
"That's correct." Her voice cracked on the last syllable and she swallowed. Footsteps behind her let her know that Alistair and Connor were returning again. She glanced up and then walked to the side, hunched over the phone.
"Well, Miss Kolbeck, I would like to formally invite you to Washington D.C., along with Markus and this RK800. Detroit has managed to stay relatively safe for the moment, but I would rather not waste time in getting all of this resolved."
Her teeth clenched. She took a deep breath in through her nose and closed her eyes. "Markus will not be coming. There is a lot of work to do here in Detroit." She paused, letting it sink in, wondering how much she should say. "Connor and I will come, but I would like something in return."
"It's a little early to be making demands, Miss Kolbeck." Again, her voice on the line came across as apathetic. No derision, no anger.
"And yet." Taylor shifted on her feet. "I would like to request requisitioning the CyberLife building as a temporary base of operations."
"With all due respect, Miss Kolbeck, I am Secretary of Homeland Security. I do not have the authority to grant you possession of private corporations." This time she could hear the irritation creeping in.
"I'm not asking for a corporation. Just one building." Again, she hesitated. She didn't want to overstep. But then again, Markus and the others had put her in this position, for better or for worse.
"Consider it a gesture of goodwill. There are a lot of androids here. More and more refugees show up every day. When people start to return to Detroit, it's not going to make any of this easier if they find deviant androids squatting in their homes."
Silence permeated the connection for almost a minute. Her chest started to hurt, and she realized she was holding her breath.
"Very well, I will see what I can do. If you will be ready to fly out."
"I will speak with Markus." The line went dead. The quiet became the emptiness of no one there rather than no one speaking, and when she pulled the phone from her ear, she saw that Secretary Headley had indeed hung up on her.
"Are you okay?" Connor's fingers brushed against her shoulder and she jumped. He retracted his hand but hovered close to her as she turned, his brows drawn down over his eyes while he watched her. She glanced between him and the phone in her hand before tucking it back into her coat pocket.
"I'm okay. I'll tell you later." Taylor was conscious of Alistair watching them curiously from the counter. He was ringing up their purchases at the same time, but she didn't want to reveal too much in front of a near stranger no matter how personable and friendly he had been.
She returned to the counter with Connor trailing behind her. Alistair was peering at her over his pince-nez as he wrapped their things in tissue, garment bags, and boxes. "I feel as though I may be missing something here."
"You know, work follows wherever you go. I was going to ask you what else might be open but I'm afraid our shopping trip might be over for the day." She smiled nonchalantly. "I appreciate you being here, though."
"At 84 years young, no less." He gave her another smile. Taylor felt her eyes widen, and it was all she could do to keep her jaw from dropping. His hands paused in their work as he looked between the two of them, considering. "You know, I was ten years old when they passed the Civil Rights Act."
She glanced at Connor, almost reflexively. Connor had turned to her as well, clearly surprised. Neither of them knew what to say. "It was a moment that I certainly will never forget. I never thought that I might get to see something like that happening again in my lifetime."
"It will." Taylor said softly. "It's going to happen."
"I may be old, my dear, but that much I do know."