—

Tony's smile is empty, and Connor could almost feel the chill throughout the empty room. The room was stark white, with one massive window overlooking over New York City. They were on one of the highest floors and Connor was seated on a plush white office chair, with a small side table next to him. On the side table were various medical tools for collecting data, including a scale on a shelf underneath the initial table top.

The is no sound, except Tony's shoes tapping against the floor as he walks around the room and Connor's coin flipping through the air.

Tony stops pacing, and stands up tall in front of where Connor is sitting in the middle of the room.

"Do you know why I've called you up here?" Tony's voice is clipped, but looking for an answer.

Connor shakes his head.

"I can only assume, Dr Stark."

"Look, kid, the team at Stark Industries have been worried about you. you've shown excellent potential but we're worried about you." He returns to pacing around the room, pulling up holograms that project themselves onto the glass, which has now dimmed into a dark translucent colour.

"A neighbour has reported seeing your father, Lieutenant Anderson, point a gun at you through you're window. They looked away for a while and when they saw you again, you were reportedly hugging." He doesn't say it as if it's an accusation, but instead phrases it like its a well versed fact.

Tony continues, ignoring the look of slight panic that Connor's face is morphing into. "And what about the fact that none of your friends have seen you ever eat anything, besides that liquid diet you're on. You don't seem to be recovering any weight, and you're severely underweight."

Tony opens a white styrofoam box that is also sitting on the white table, and takes out a egg and cheese sandwich, on white bread and tears it in half. He hands Connor one half and places the other back into the food container.

"Can you eat this, Connor?" Connor takes a quick look at the food contents that now sit in his hands. Sure, he could eat it, but he's never eaten anything. His model certainly supported the act of eating, but the process of breaking down the calories and fibres into energy was messy, and often made android sluggish for this process was an unreliable way of retaining energy.

SCAN:_COMPLETE

-EGG_AND_CHEESE_SANDWICH

-ROUGHLY_146_GRAMS

-CALORIES:364

-TOTAL_FAT:19_GRAMs

-SATURATED_FAT:7_GRAMS

-POLYUNSATURATED_FAT:2.6_GRAMS

-MONOUNSATURATED_FAT:8_GRAMS

-CHOLESTEROL:290.5_MILLIGRAMS

-SODIUM:804.5_MILLIGRAMS

-POTASSIUM:188.3_MILLIGRAMS

-TOTAL_CARBOHYDRATE:26_GRAMS

-PROTEIN:16_GRAMS

He looked down at the sandwich, trying to decide what exactly to do. The sandwich feels disgusting in Connor's hands and he knows he shouldn't, he knows he can't. Androids shouldn't have sandwiches prepared by humans. Androids shouldn't have things that only humans were supposed to have.

He wasn't human, he couldn't bring himself to take a bite out of the sandwich. Tony looks disappointed after watching Connor debate silently on whether or not to eat it after five full minutes of staring.

"I'm not hungry." He finally decides, and it's true, android's simply couldn't 'get hungry'. It just wasn't possible. And it wasn't like they deserved to be on equal ground with humans, having the right to eat.

They were just machines. Just machines.

Tony sighs and buries his head into his hands. He motions Connor to follow him, and Connor gets on the scale without hesitation or trouble at all. Tony frowns when he see's Connor's weight being exactly the same as it was two weeks ago when he last saw him.

Connor doesn't even batt an eye when he see's the number on the scale. 51.8kg (114lbs) , or rounded up to 52 kg. It's the same number it's always been and always will be.

"You haven't even changed weight. What's the real reason you don't eat, Connor?" This time when Tony asks him, they both make direct eye contact, and Connor can tell that Tony means it. He's really asking for an excuse and Connor doesn't think saying that he wasn't hungry was going to cut it.

"I j-just don't deserve it." The stutter is unintentional but surprisingly not out of place. It's the truth, and they both know it, except their minds are both thinking about drastically different scenarios.

It's really about Connor believing android's are on a different level to humans, and don't deserve to perform the same socially acceptable actions as each others. Humans created androids, so shouldn't they be instructing the androids on what to do?

That's a situation Tony couldn't even dream to think up on, so his conclusion is much more mundane. Tony believes that this might be some sort of psychological conditioning performed on by somebody who had once more power than Connor, making Connor believe he wasn't worthy.

It was somewhat on the right track, but leaning more onto the path of eating disorders rather than racial segregation.

Tony swears, a sharp curse and Connor wisely ignores it. He guides Connor back into the chair he was sitting on before getting up to stand on a scale, and Tony takes out a rather small looking needle.

"There isn't anybody else here, you're going to be fine. It won't even hurt, you won't even feel it." He tries to console Connor, but Connor's stress levels are rising every single time Tony waves that needle around. He did not need to be discovered now. No way, not today.

He quickly stands up, his six foot frame taller than Tony, and insists he doesn't get the needle taken, ever in fact. Tony rolls his eyes and exhales rather loudly before finally setting down the needle. He places both hands in the air in the universal 'surrender'.

Connor's stress decreases from 79% down to 40%. It's an improvement, but not enough for optimal functionality. Tony tries his final tactic.

He pulls out a voice recorder.

"All you need to do is say anything you need to tell the authorities and there will be no more problems. You can be free of whatever's plaguing you." Tony's voice now has a sharp edge to it, as if he's urging Connor to press record and start speaking. He knows he can't force the kid to do it, but he'll be damned if he doesn't try.

"What are you insinuating, Dr Stark?" Connor's tone is clipped in retaliation. Tony snaps his head back around to look more directly at Connor, casually pacing around the chair.

"Oh, nothing. Maybe I just find it a little weird how your father seems to be encouraging your 'weight gain diet' yet you gain no weight? Or how he pointed a gun to you yet you 'hugged' it out? Your relationship with him seems to be… rocky at best." He stops pacing agin and realigns his posture.

"Look, kid, if there's 'anything going on' at home, I can help you. You're a great kid and I really like you, but I can't do anything unless you accept my help." Connor bites his bottom lip and stands up confident.

"Nothing. There is nothing going on. I'll be sure to notify you if anything changes." Connor grabs his suit jacked from the coat rack by the door and lets himself out. Tony doesn't bother following him.

Once Connor is out of the building, Tony talks to the ceiling, nonchalantly.

"Jarvis, did you get the scan?"

"Of course, sir."

—