He took a sip of that bourbon he was all too familiar with. The taste was the only thing that sent a chill down his spine after all these years and that's why the gentleman savored the whiskey, taking a sip every now and then. He sat at his usual seat in the rundown bar he favored at first but now didn't care much for. It was a routine; just like one would go grab a coffee after work, he'd come here. The man looked up at the television, contorting his face in disgust as the news mentioned the successful integration of androids within the Detroit Police Department. He sighed, shaking his head in disappointment as he took another sip of his drink.

"Sergeant Miller!" Gavin waved as he walked into the bar with a smile. The older man peered over his shoulder with a smirk, "Well I'll be a son of a bitch," he spun his barstool, "How've you been keepin', Gav?" Miller spread his arms, inviting the detective to embrace. "I'd be lyin' if I said good, Serg," Gavin chuckled as he hugged his mentor, patting his back. "I could tell from your phone call that something was up. Come on," Miller motioned with his head, "Let's move to a booth and catch up."

"Aye, Donny!" Miller shouted, "Two Silver Patron shots for the booth in the back, yeah?"

The bartender gave a thumbs up as he immediately took out two shot glasses and poured the tequila. The retired sergeant got up from his stool, leaving his drink as he walked over to the rear of the quiet bar. Gavin took off his rain coat and folded it over his left forearm, following his superior. The men took a seat, wood creaking under their bottoms as they scooted further into the booth. "It's good to see you, son," Miller leaned forward, tapping his subordinate's shoulder. The detective nodded as he placed his coat beside him, "It's good seeing you too, Sergeant. Sorry it took so long to meet up," the brunette scratched the back of his head, "Fowler's been bustin' my balls lately and I'm almost at my fuckin' breaking point," he continued, biting the corner of his lower lip. "Ah geez," Miller bent back, laughing as he examined his distressed mentee, "What'd he do this time?"

"God," Gavin looked to the ceiling then back to the sergeant, "Where do I even start?" he asked with a shrug. "Start from the beginning," the older man gestured with kind eyes, "I haven't seen you in what seems like ages. It's been a coupla months you've been postponing our drinkin' session," Miller raised his brows. "So tell me what's been goin' on. It's not like you to disappear all of a sudden."

The detective pressed his lips together and brought his hand to his forehead. "It all started when CyberLife fuckin' sent that twink-of-an-android to work at DPD central," he gnashed his teeth, "It's because of that goddamn bastard and the android revolution bullshit that the county department's been forcing more and more robots to work on the force."

"Oh," Miller snapped his fingers as he smacked his lips together, "That Connor guy, right? The one Hank's workin' with now," he looked to his subordinate for confirmation. "Yeah, him," Gavin bitterly stated. The retired cop crossed his arms over his chest, "Man, first they introduce androids for housework, then they commercialize service bots and now they're forcing these things to work in law enforcement?" Miller scoffed, "How the fuck is Hank dealin' with this shit?"

"You, him and Fowler grew up together, right?" Gavin asked, glancing at the older man. The sergeant pursed his lips and nodded, "Yep, we grew up on the same block and decided that we all wanted to kick ass together as cops. 'Course this was before all the cybernetic crap," Miller exhaled, yearning for the good old days. Gavin chuckled to himself, "How is it that you're so different than those two?" the detective smirked at his confidant, "I mean, you're nothing like them, Sergeant," he praised with a light tap on the table. Miller let out a faint laugh, "Don't be so hard on'em, son" the older of the two advised, "Hank lost his kid and Fowler's just tryin' to keep his job."

Gavin's expression changed to a regretful one, "I just wish that Fowler would quit dickin' around with me specifically." Miller tapped his mentee on the hand, "Hey, I'm sure the guy has his reasons," he said with a toothy grin, "Not for nothin' but you're a hard guy to get along with, Gavin," the gruff man bluntly stated, "Now I," Miller paused as he took a second to collect his thoughts, "I saw that burning desire inside you when you were a cadet in the academy," he slowly shook his head in awe, "I mean, the gumption, the vigor, the anger inside you. I knew you'd be a great addition to the DPD," the sergeant continued to commend his subordinate.

The detective knit his brows as he stared at his mentor, eyes mixed with all kinds of emotion, "Why'd you have to leave, John?" the brunette dragged the corners of his mouth into a saddened frown, "Why'd you leave me?" he asked, emphasizing the last word. Miller lifted his head a bit startled by the younger man's question, but remained fixated on the brunette's displeased expression. "We were partners," Gavin went on, "We got shit done," he squinted his eyes, "Why'd you leave me?"

The sergeant looked to the table and sighed, "Gavin," he gazed at his former colleague, "I grew up with comics and video games," he waved his hand, "Not androids."

"Here're your drinks, guys," the tapper said as he walked over to the booth and placed the shots near the men. "Thank you, Donny," Miller gestured as he took hold of the drink. The bartender smiled at both gentlemen before heading back to the counter.

Gavin crinkled his nose, frustrated by the sergeant's response. "Don't gimme that look," Miller declared with a stern tone. "I was twenty nine when I started working as a cop in Detroit," the older man started, "And I adored it. I loved breakin' down doors and bustin' bad guys," he passionately signaled with his hands, "But then, eight years later, some jackass named Elijah Kamski introduced androids to the market," his brows drew together, "And that changed everything."

The detective remained silent, trying to hide the relief he felt knowing Miller didn't know that he and Kamski were related. "Next thing I knew, I was reassigned to work on cases revolving around missing androids," Miller shook his head, "I bit the bullet and beared with it for two years but that's when I realized my talents were being squandered."

"So why'd you stay?" Gavin asked, interlacing his fingers. "Because you came along, cadet," Miller answered with a warm smile. The detective looked to the table, humbled by his superior's response. "We did make a hell of a pair, though. The department actually put me back on drug trafficking and illegal prostitution cases because of you," John chuckled, patting Gavin's forearm. "Then why'd you retire three years ago? You were only fifty one," the detective pressed onto the counter. "I left because I heard rumors that they were gonna bring in androids to work with us," Miller coldly replied. "And I couldn't have that, kid," he shook his head disapprovingly, "I couldn't have that."

The detective reclined into his seat, disappointed by the older man's answer. After a few seconds of silence, Miller clapped his hands, "All this serious talk made me forget what we came here to do," he grabbed his drink and waited for his subordinate to do the same. Gavin blinked a few times, "Oh, right," the detective took hold of the shot glass and brought it in the air. "This oughtta help loosen you up a bit, son," Miller winked, "Cheers!"

The men clanked their glasses and downed the tequila quickly. Gavin scrunched up his face as he felt the strong taste of the drink rock him to his core. "Jesus," the detective shivered, "That was disgusting," he laughed. The sergeant chuckled as he turned to Donny and waved him down, "After a few more, you'll stop complaining about the flavor."

The bartender approached the table, "What can I get for you two?" he smoothed out his slacks. "We'll have a bottle this time—Gran Platinum Patron," Miller smirked nefariously. "Wait a sec," Gavin grabbed his superior's arm, "John, I—uh," he leaned a bit closer and whispered, "I can't afford that kinda stuff. That's like a two hundred dollar drink."

"Aw, kid," the older man dismissed with a hand wave, "This is on me."

The detective's eyes went round, "A-are you sure? I mean, I'd feel ba—"

"Oh knock it off, Gavin," John demanded, "Seeing as I've let you down, it's the least I can do to say sorry, son," he explained as he glanced at Donny. "We'll have that bottle now, Don," the sergeant tapped on the bartender's arm. "You got it. I'll be right back with that, gentlemen," the tapper happily said as he scurried back behind his counter.

"Thank you, Sergeant Miller," Gavin expressed bashfully as he folded his arms on the table. "Nah, no need for that. You're like my son, Gavin. What's a coupla hundred bucks?" Miller shrugged as he observed his mentee. "Here you are, officers," Donny delicately placed the bottle of tequila in the center of the table, "Enjoy," he winked before he turned back and walked away to tend to other customers. "Alright," Miller rubbed his hands together, "Let's get down to business, shall we?" he raised a brow at the younger man. "You do the honors, Cadet Reed," the sergeant handed the bottle to his subordinate. "Gladly, sir," Gavin opened the drink up and poured the bronze colored liquid into the shot glasses. "Voila," the detective handed a drink to the other man. "Salute!"

The men downed another shot. The younger of the two tightly shut his eyes, "Damn, that's fuckin' strong," he shook his head. Miller laughed, "That oughtta put some hair on your chest, kid," he said, wiping the corners of his mouth.

"So, once upon a time we were talking about your latest spat with Fowler. Care to tell me more about that?" the sergeant asked as he grabbed the bottle and immediately poured more alcohol into the shot glasses.

"Oh," Gavin snickered, "So I got reassigned to android cases," he slid his tongue over his teeth. Miller placed the bottle of tequila down on the table with a loud clang, "You're joking, right?"

"Heh," the detective drew his upper lip between his teeth, "That's not even the best part," the younger man explained. "I got partnered up with an android."

"Jesus Christ," Miller placed a hand on his eyes, rubbing then before looking back to his subordinate, "You gotta be fuckin' with me, Gav" the man said with concern. "His name's Richard," the detective continued, mouth set in a hard line. The sergeant slumped against his seat, stunned by his former colleague's words. "So they fucking replaced me with an android," John nodded his head, "I can't believe this."

Gavin remained silent as smooth jazz played in the background. "How long's he been your partner?" the older man asked, shooting a glance at the detective. "Two days," the brunette curtly replied. "My God," the retired cop sighed, "Should I even ask how things have been going between the two of you?"

The younger of the two folded up his long sleeve, leaned forward and slammed his right elbow on the wooden table, all while glaring at the sergeant. Miller's eyes widened as he scanned the detective's black brace, "Gavin, did he do this to you?" the older gentleman delicately grasped his subordinate's arm, examining the splint. "He threw me into the DPD storage room, dislocated my wrist and synthesized my voice," the detective bitterly articulated. John raised his brows in shock, "Synthesized your voice? They can do that?" he asked, evidently alarmed. Gavin nodded as he placed his sprained arm on the counter, "He fooled Hank into believing he was me."

"I…I don't know what to say, kid," Miller blinked several times, stuttering and stumbling over his words. "There's nothin' to say," the brunette chuckled. "Me and him were workin' on a case earlier today and it was…okay I guess," he shrugged. "But then when I got back to the station, Fowler was there waitin' to just give it me."

Miller rolled his eyes, "What'd he do?"

Gavin let out a frustrated laugh, "So he drags me to his fuckin' office and proceeds to list out all the reasons I haven't been promoted yet. He berates my behavior," the detective leaned forward, "Says I got a fuckin' attitude problem that needs fixing; then he goes on about how I need to start treating the goddamn android better," the haughty officer explained, anger resonating in his voice. "You know what?" John tilted his head, "Fuck'em," he grabbed his shot glass and motioned Gavin to do the same. "Shit, old man, I'll drink to that," the detective gripped his glass and forcefully hit it against his superior's.

The pair proceeded to drink into the late evening, sharing laughs and stories. Donny watched the men from behind the bar counter as they sang and embraced to their hearts' content. By the end of the night, the two had gone through three bottles of Gran Platinum Patron and Gavin was as shit-faced as can be.

"Okay, you two," Donny clapped his hands and laughed, "As much as I'd like to stay here all night and watch you idiots fumble over each other, I have to get going," the bartender expressed with arms on his hips. "Fuck you!" Gavin shouted with the biggest grin. "Okay," Donovan glanced at the sergeant, "Johnny, you gotta take this guy home, it's past two in the morning."

"Yeah, yeah, don't worry. I'll take the kid home," the retired cop laughed as he patted the swaying detective. "We'll be gettin' out of your hair. Oh and uh, put all this on my tab will ya?" John whispered to the bartender. "Come on, Gavin," the sergeant grabbed the brunette's raincoat from the booth and gripped the younger man's long sleeve, guiding him to the exit. "Bye, bye!" Gavin waved to the tapper as Miller pushed him through the door. "Where's your car, Gavin?" the sergeant asked as he stuck his head in the street. "I took a taxi like a good boy," the detective giggled. "Okay, good. I'll drive you home then."

It took the retired cop twenty minutes to situate his wasted subordinate in the passenger's seat. Between the younger man's groaning and swinging of limbs, Miller patted himself on the shoulder for managing to buckle down the shorter officer in the car. As John sat in the driver's seat, he noticed Gavin fiddling with the radio. "The car's not on, you dingbat," the older man chortled as he placed the key in the ignition and started the vehicle. When the engine began to hum and the headlights turned on, the detective applauded his superior and pressed the button for the radio once more. Break Stuff by Limp Bizkit was playing; Gavin sharply inhaled, "AHHH! THIS SHIT'S MY JAM!" he shouted as he repeatedly slapped his left hand on the dashboard. "Jesus, Gavin relax!" Miller yelled as he tried to keep a straight face, "You'll break my dashboard, you drunken loon," he laughed, shooing at the brunette's hand.

The detective sang his heart out to all sorts of heavy metal songs during the entire duration of the car ride as his superior drove through the desolate streets of downtown Detroit.

"Okay, Gavin," John tapped the brunette's shoulder as he pulled into the curb, "This is your apartment complex," he stated, as he exited the vehicle and walked over to the detective's side, opening the car door. "Let's get you to your room, son," Miller grunted as he helped Gavin out of the car. "You're such a good guy, John," the younger officer smacked the sergeant's face, "Such a..g-good guy," he slurred, stroking the older man's stubble. "Okay, okay, that's enough," John moved his face away from the detective's hand, "Maybe I gave you a little too much to drink," he stated as he dragged Gavin up the porch and into the apartment lobby.

The two men took the elevator to the third floor and walked down the hall and to the left. "Room 302," Miller looked to the apartment door, "This is your place, right?" he asked the younger man. Gavin gave an exaggerated nod, almost snapping his neck in the process. "Alright," John reached into the detective's coat, which was in his right hand, and pulled out a set of keys. He quickly sifted through the set until he stumbled upon a key engraved with the number "302."

"Okay, this is it," the older man pushed the key into the lock and opened the door. He then proceeded to help Gavin into the living room and onto the couch. "Will you be okay, kid?" John asked with concern. Gavin smiled ear-to-ear and gave a thumbs up. The sergeant sighed as he maintained his gaze on the inebriated officer, "Just take it easy, alright? Go to bed and get some rest," he demanded, patting the detective's back. "I'll call you in the morning to check on you, son," Miller said as he walked toward to apartment door. He took one last glance at the younger officer before exiting into the hallway, door closing behind him.

After a few minutes, Gavin slowly staggered to his feet and went to his bedroom to change into boxers and a black tank top. He struggled to discern which hole was for which limb as he first slipped his head in the opening intended for his right arm. A few frustrated minutes later, the detective managed to correctly wear the tank top. He walked back into the living room and turned on his stereo system. "Play Figure .09 by Linkin Park!" he shouted as he threw himself onto the couch. Alternative music blasted through the detective's apartment, putting a smile on the brunette's face.

About twenty five minutes into listening to blaring music, a loud bang was heard coming from behind Gavin's front door. The detective tried ignoring the obnoxious knocks but it wouldn't stop. The brunette let out sounds of frustration as he pushed himself off the couch and schlepped to the door, sluggishly opening it.

"Detective," an unamused RK900 greeted with cold eyes.