Chapter Text
The seed of doubt was planted when Hank was captured by the doppelganger. Under the guise of friendship, he had let his defenses down, until the gun came into play. He surrendered without a fight and went quietly into the taxi with the imposter.
“The deviant RK800 is planning an attack on Cyberlife and must be stopped. I don’t think it realizes that it’s a machine and can be traced.” He had explained. “It already led us to the deviant hideout, but if it weren’t for their bomb, we would have already won. So many human lives lost...”
It was bait and Hank knew it. He wasn’t going to be caught up in this bastard’s games, because he knew that nobody would win. Except maybe Cyberlife. The machine looked dissatisfied with the lack of response.
“I’ve already intercepted it’s taxi and informed Cyberlife of it’s arrival. Though, I expect it won’t go down without a fight, so that’s where you come in.” He had taken a moment to look at Hank with something almost akin to fond regard. Almost. “You’re integral to the success of my mission.”
What’s with villains always wanting exposition? Hank wondered if he was using it as an intimidation ploy, or if it was just the way to fill the awkward silence while they waited for the hero to arrive. Heh, hero. I’ll have to tell Connor that when we get out of this. If we get out of this. He remembered how his stomach sank when the android began speaking again.
“You see, you mean a lot to Connor. I’d even venture to say that you personally helped break Cyberlife’s most prestigious model. But don’t worry, you won’t have to foot the bill, that will be Connor’s decision whether or not you’ll have to pay with your life.” The imposter let out an exaggerated sigh and said, with mock pity in his voice, “Androids are so versatile, but so predictable. It’s a shame seeing my own model be wasted like that.”
“You don’t have to do this.” Hank tried to look over at him with sincerity, but the gun pressed his gaze away.
“I was built solely to complete my mission, and I intend to do just that.”
“I don’t know if you’re trying to convince me or yourself.” The gun bit into his temple.
“I hardly need convincing. I am a machine and, as such, will do as I’m told.”
Hank hadn’t bothered arguing past that. That guy was nothing like Connor, talking wouldn’t remedy the situation, and for once, he didn’t feel like getting in the way of a bullet. Hank sighed and swallowed, feeling the cool metal by his brow and had thought about seeing his son.
They arrived at Cyberlife before Connor did. The guards, the slimy bastards, let them both through without batting an eye. Hank knew they were human because they bore no model or serial numbers on their attire. Amazing what a little hush money could do to people.
Deep in the bowels of the massive tower, they sat in wait. The doppelganger told him that once Connor had made it to the grounds, he would be led to the elevator with a surprise awaiting on the other end. Hank guessed he took some sick satisfaction out of his raising blood pressure, but even so, the stress in the air was tense, and Hank has known that it wasn’t just from him alone.
When the elevator descended into view, the other Connor hissed to himself, “End of the line, deviant.” and then to Hank, “Make a sound and I’ll shoot.”
He desperately wanted to shout out to warn Connor to get away, to run as far as he could, to save himself. But, something inside of him knew that Connor would try his damndest to save him. The inkling of hope had flourished, then was snuffed out when the two began to brawl.
Each were perfectly alike, with identical memories and mannerisms. Just like in the fucking movies, Hank remembered he had snarled to himself. He cycled them both through questions as a ruse to bide him enough time to read off their different serial numbers.
As soon as he knew which one was the real Connor, Hank had asked one more question; one he hadn’t been ready for the answer. His response shocked Hank, showing that Connor really had done his homework on his past. Connor’s understanding of Hank's reasoning behind his hatred for androids was humbling. In that moment, it allowed him to have his own revelation towards his muddled feelings towards androids as a whole, and towards Connor. In the moment he let the bullet fly, he felt like he had also destroyed the doubt inside of him, but as soon as he had let Connor out of his sight, the seed took root.
Public opinion had tipped in their favor. The president released an immediate order to fall back, and in its stead, an evacuation of the entire city for human safety. So far there had been no word from Connor, but Hank still had hope.
His chest had swelled with pride seeing Connor - his Connor - on TV, recorded from an android in the crowd at Markus’ speech. All the pieces were falling into place, and he felt the relief flood him at the messiah’s words. Everything was going to be fine for once. They would meet at Chickenfeed the next day as planned, and would finally move forward in their lives.
In that glimmer of hope came the chilling split of reality once Connor had reached behind him and grabbed his gun. Hank’s blood ran cold when he saw Connor close his eyes and hold the barrel of the gun to his chin. But he shook his head as if he had come out of a trance, quizzically looked at the gun, then sheepishly put it away, hoping that no one had seen.
Though no one in the immediate area had taken notice, Hank had. Hank had seen it and knew without an irrevocable doubt that it wasn’t going to be the end of it.
Upon seeing Connor, everything was okay in the world. The glint of a smile played on Connor’s lips. Hank tried his best to keep his cool, but his arms moved faster than his mind, and pulled Connor into a tight hug. He tried to wordlessly commune all of his feelings up to that point. His pride, his relief, his hope, his fear, his fear, his fear. He drowned the last part out, pulling away to remind himself with physical proof that Connor was still here.
“You, uh-” Hank’s words fell flat, his mind abuzz with everything he wanted to say. It would’ve been overwhelming if he wasn’t already so sickeningly accustomed to the shouting in his head. “You wanna go back to my place? I’m freezin’ my nuts off out here.”
“Sounds good.” Connor nodded in affirmation. The smile in his eyes calmed the lieutenant, but he didn’t want to get ahead of himself. Not until he addressed the elephant in the room, because he knew that life had a way of creeping up on him when he least expected it.
The morning waned and he found that there was no way to bring it up nicely. Hey, Con, so what made you second guess living? I guess you and I have more in common than we think, what with that little stunt you pulled, he would say, motioning to his own gun. No, no, that was fucking stupid, and insensitive to say the least. He didn’t want to treat Connor like he treated himself. So he let the topic die off, creating fuel for that deep seated worry that was growing in his stomach.
Hank didn’t come all this way as a detective to miss the clues. And what was the saying? It takes one to know one? Yeah, that sounded about right. As soon as Connor started to seem off, the alarms blared in Hank’s head.
Once they sat on the sofa and flipped on the TV, the corner of Connor’s eye twitched. His LED spun yellow, chugged, then stopped. The moment it turned blue again, Hank sighed - in exasperation or relief, he didn’t know - and asked, “So, you got anywhere to stay?”
“I could stay at Jericho.” Conner offered.
Hank could tell he hadn’t put much thought into where he would go. No plans, no future, no hope, echoed in his head. Hank clenched his eyes shut to banish them, but he knew the signs all too well. He didn’t want to jump the gun just yet, literally or figuratively, he needed more proof - solid evidence that proved that Connor needed help.
“I wouldn’t, if I were you.” Hank crossed his arms and grunted, kept his eyes on the TV, not letting on that he was watching Connor like a hawk in his peripheral.
Playing things by ear was not Hank’s forte, but he wracked his brain on how he could convince Connor to stay. He had nothing against the other androids, not anymore, but a bunch of fledgling humans in a new world, experiencing life for the first time had a way of making him worry in all the worst ways. If none of them knew the signs to look out for, then who would watch out for Connor? In hindsight, Hank knew he should’ve been more upfront about his motives, but he didn’t want to force or make him feel alienated.
Connor squined and cocked his head. “Why?”
“You must be new to Detroit.” Hank huffed humorlessly, keeping his words vague. He inhaled and blew air out his mouth like he had been running. He cut to the chase. “You should stay here. It’s safe. Down low, y’know?” Hank chanced a sideways glance at Connor, gauging his reaction. He was thinking, calculating - it was predictable, normal. Hank let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
“If Jericho isn’t safe, shouldn’t that be even more of a reason for me to stay there?”
Shit. He had a point. He didn’t think this through, but when did he ever? “Well, I mean-” Hank realized he didn’t have an argument against it. “I’m not sayin’ they can’t hold their own -” Connor squinted - taking his words under scrutiny. He opened his mouth to speak, but Hank spoke over him. “Not that, uh, your presence wouldn’t be welcomed there, I’m sure, I just-” Hank realized he was walking on eggshells, ones that he placed. He was losing this argument, which could mean losing Connor, which would mean - “I’d just be more comfortable if you stayed here.” He blurted out, but it was the truth, and luckily, it seemed to satisfy Connor.
He nodded. “Sounds good to me, lieutenant.” Another smile.
To the untrained eye, it would be missed, Hank knows for sure, but he prided himself on tuning into Connor’s subtleties. Hank let his shoulders relax, wrapping an arm on the back of the sofa and patted his thigh to call Sumo. Without question, Sumo hopped onto Hank, who wheezed in pain as he stepped on every tender part. The oversized excuse for a baby laid half on either lap - seizing control of maximum attention.
Connor couldn’t help but give Hank a lopsided smile - the biggest Hank has seen yet. Around Hank, he felt at ease. Like everything fell into place naturally, with little effort. Their start was rocky, but it built a solid foundation. There was one thing that Connor couldn’t place, though. No matter the amount of research, he didn’t understand this… happening inside of him.
It was difficult looking for an answer to a question you didn’t even know. The feeling was complex, undulating, and ever present. Something that grew, and for a time festered, but since he had deviated, the feeling felt warm. Not in the literal sense, he had to remind himself, his system was not overheating. Whatever it was, it was not unpleasant.
Putting a word to it was even worse. Connor imagined bringing it up in conversation - how would he describe it? Warm was too vague, especially for humans, what with being endothermic creatures, but the only other way he could think of that made sense was that… Hank made him feel real. He filed the thought away for further deliberation if that was a proper term or not.
Thinking about it wasn’t necessarily bad, but the lack of understanding of his own emotions, a fundamental part of being human, was bothersome. Without giving himself the time to stay around the other androids, especially the newly deviated ones, he couldn’t gauge if his progress was normal. If he could call it progress.
The last thought was drowned out by the next. His mind moved too fast. An intrusive capability to compute, observe, reconstruct, and predict - what once aided him now seemed to be at best obstructive, and at worst destructive.
Destructive. Why destructive? In the literal sense, his mind didn’t have the power to tear him apart. But he did. He and that other force - the one that he tried not to think too much about since the attempted takeover, though it begged to be analyzed, just like his fingers begged to move. He needed a distraction, and Hank supplied it in the form of mindless channel flipping.
Each channel could be analyzed the split second it was on screen. Connor would relay the video feed and match it with the series or movie. Some took a little longer than others, like the ones with live broadcasts, but all national television had some traceable media online.
Try as he might, the thought couldn’t help but creep back into his thoughts and he’d idly lose track of everything else. He wondered if Hank went through this, if any humans went through something like this. Then he wondered if any androids did, or if, as a detective model, he was doomed to overthink everything. He felt his shoulders slump.
It was gradual, but Hank could feel the atmosphere shift around Connor. Hank would notice his eye twitch a few times. Normal for Connor, sure, but after it he seemed vacant… almost devoid of life, until Hank snapped him back to reality by pausing on a channel. Each successive time made him look more and more drained. He didn’t think an android could look so broken, so human, but he had no idea how to ask him what was going on without fucking everything up.
Even though he was well versed in the matter, he had no idea how to talk to someone else about it. It was always him in that position, not the other way around, and it scared Hank to see him like this. But he didn’t bring it up. He couldn’t, even though he saw that something was troubling him.
Neither was fully watching the TV. Hank made an effort to keep it off the news. Thousands of channels and nothing to watch. Ironic. He stopped flicking through the channels and brought up the program guide. Without the constant flow of channel flipping to focus on now, Connor began to introspect.
With Sumo on his lap and Hank to his right, he was in no means of the term alone, but somehow he felt just that. Besides the clicking of channels from the TV and the occasional car, everything was quiet. His own silence suffocated him while he fought through his affliction.
After the speech, he and all the other androids had returned to the church to find that there simply wasn’t enough room for everyone. Many androids left, especially the newly awakened ones, having no emotional ties with Jericho or Markus. With their newfound freedom, they had simply struck out to find their own path, while the familiar faces had stuck around. But Connor didn’t.
Regardless if Hank had invited him to meet again, Connor knew that he’d eventually wind back up on his doorstep. Anywhere near Hank was the only place that he felt any semblance of belonging. While he did share a connection with his people, he felt that it was superficial, and that the only thing tying them together was that they were built and not born.
Besides that, he knew he had previously worked as a force against them, and though he had found himself, he knew nothing could cover the sins of his past. Logically he knew that Markus trusted him, and that he played a pertinent part in the revolution, but he didn’t feel like his trust was truly earned, especially after what happened with Amanda. Recalling the feeling of the bitter cold made him involuntarily shiver.
Hank looked over and raised an eyebrow. “You... cold?”
“No.” Hearing Hank’s voice was a relief for sorry ears.
He was able to turn his focus to Hank, even if he only kept him in the corner of his eye. The channel stayed on a commercial that was easy to recognize even without crossreferensing it, but that didn’t concern him at the moment. Connor could see that Hank was considering his response.
Hank nodded, then replied with, “Why’d you shake?”
Connor went to speak, then found himself at a loss for words. He couldn’t exactly describe what he was feeling, or how he was feeling it, because everything felt different than what it first had. Then again, nothing really had changed, except he now had control over his directive. Hopefully.
He could only say, “I don’t know.” but it was only the partial truth.
The chilling memory had brought back the feeling of being there, even though his physical body had never felt the biting winds. It had felt so real, because it was, but it made Connor question his own reality.
What separated his physical body from his mind - himself from Amanda, and by proxy, Cyberlife? The very concept of himself, what he and others perceived him as was a mere fabrication by his developers.
“Connor?”
Connor snapped to attention. “Yes?” Hank didn’t have to say anything, because the worry was plastered on his face. “I’m fine, I was just processing.”
“Processing.” Hank repeated, doubtful. “Processing can be a pretty nebulous term for you.”
“I’m just processing recent events. A lot has happened.”
“Yeah.” Hank nodded, but his voice was morose. “You’re okay though, right?” Connor looked at him and cocked his head. Hank liked when he did that. “Like, you know… upstairs?” Hank could see that Connor didn’t understand what he meant. “Your head.”
The LED spun yellow, as he thought. His brows furrowed and Hank watched as his LED began to stutter and chug. He idly wondered if it was the human equivalent of scratching their chin. It took a little longer than Hank expected for a reply, but he gave him the liberty to continue until he reached an answer.
He finally said noncommittally, “I’m fine.” It was an answer they both knew wasn’t true.
Hank made a face and raised his eyebrows, expecting something more. When he realized there wasn’t a follow up, he said, “Alright. Well, I’ll believe ya.”
Seeing and believing were two very different things. It was something that Hank knew very well, as it was a lesson not soon forgotten by any seasoned detective. But sitting there, hearing Connor deflect everything so coolly, with such an ease that he himself would never be able to muster sober or drunk, was peculiar. Something about the situation felt off, like he was missing something integral, but didn’t feel right about asking directly.
It was early afternoon on Hank’s day off, which meant he was long overdue for a drink. He began to get up, allowing Sumo time to crawl entirely into Connor’s lap. “Watch out, his paws have a way of finding what hurts most.” He warned, moving around the sofa to watch in bemusement.
Without as much as a flinch from Connor, Sumo circled once on his lap, almost fell, then settled to lay on his side. “He’s fine.” He laid both arms out to pet him in swaths.
Hank huffed and grinned, knowing how much Sumo would love Connor. Turning to head to the kitchen, he asked over his shoulder, “You want something to drink?” even though he didn’t know if he possessed the capability.
“No thanks.” Connor called, then asked Sumo like he was asking another person, “Do you want something to drink?”
Sumo’s tail thumped on the sofa. “He has no idea what you’re saying.” Hank warned, got a glass and poured some whiskey, but his stomach growled.
“I know, but it’s worth a shot to ask.” Then again to Sumo, “Isn’t it?” again as plain as simple as asking someone if they wanted tea or coffee.
Hank could hear Sumo starting to pant in the living room, any form of question always a source of anticipation. “You can’t talk to him like he’s people - he’ll just get excited thinking he’s gonna get something.”
When he opened the fridge to hopefully find some leftovers, ones that he had forgotten but were still edible, he realized the attempt was in vain. Even so, he made a point by rummaging around, just to make sure he didn’t miss anything hiding. There was no kidding himself, nothing in this fridge was even remotely palatable.
“Chinese it is.” He spoke to himself, getting out his phone to order some.
Thank god I don’t have to call people anymore, Hank idly thought, tapping a few buttons to have the food brought to him. The best part was no human contact, either. He left his drink in the kitchen until he could get some food in him.
He could hear Connor asking Sumo ‘what?’ or ‘what is it?’ like he would respond in perfect english. The further questioning only increased Sumo’s furore. There would be no calming him down at this point, Sumo would either have to get something or Hank would have to deal with his constant pestering until he caved.
“If you’re going to ask him anything,” Hank leaned over the back of the sofa. “You gotta ask him in the voice, that way he really understands.”
“What voice?” Connor stopped petting him to look at Hank.
“Sumo,” Hank spoke with a slight excited connotation, with a waver at the end. Sumo whipped his head up to look at him. “Do… you...” Sumo cocked his head between words. Then Hank told Connor in as calm and monotone voice as he could muster, “Now ask him if he wants to go o-u-t-s-i-d-e.”
“Sumo...” Connor mimicked the speech pattern. Sumo sat his front half up and turned his head to face him in one fluid motion. “Do you...” His head cocked again, making Connor’s lips start to pull into a smile.
“Want to...” Sumo whined, chuffed, then pawed at Connor’s arm. “Go outside?”
The St. Bernard licked one stripe up Connor’s face, then jumped off the sofa, pacing and panting readily at the back door. Connor looked from Sumo to Hank and broke out into a soft smile. The air lightened. Hank gave him a lopsided grin back, half proud of getting it out of him, and half hoping that it would stay.
Turning to let Sumo out the door, he couldn’t help but frown once he was out of sight, his intuition knowing that it wouldn’t last. In a way, he felt guilty, feeling like this wouldn’t be in Connor’s best interest.
Was it even beneficial to be subject to emotions? Hank honestly didn’t know. Sure, when it was good, it was really good, but when it was bad… The mental image flashed in his head of the gun pressed up against Connor’s chin, the same gun he would put to his own temple.
He shook his head and found himself in the doorway. For a moment, he watched Sumo sniff around, the overhead sun melting the top layer of snow just enough to make it cling onto his fur. It was a nice distraction, but he turned to close the door against the frigid air. Hank sighed, and tried to keep the thoughts out of his head. If he kept this up, he knew Connor would catch on, or even catch up to him. He didn’t want him to keep pace with him in suicidal tendencies.
It wasn’t a matter of choice, he just had to be better, for Connor’s sake. He had to lead by example, make sure Connor knew that life was worth living. But is it? Shit - this was going to be hard sober. Reasoning that the food would be here soon, he stepped back into the kitchen and took the shot he left out, but opted out of another one.
Allowing himself to drink would be integral to the success of his plan, but he had to hold back enough to keep his own head about him. There was a very thin line between giddy inebriation and shit-faced russian roulette with him. But now that he thought about it, he couldn’t remember the last time that he was even able to feel good emotion when he drank regardless. He shrugged. He’d just have to change that, or fake it. Yeah, he was going to need another drink.
Without a second passing, his ear splitting doorbell rang. “Sweet merciful Jesus.” Hank sighed out in relief. Food was always a great comfort.
Sumo barked relentlessly in the backyard when Hank opened the door. The little delivery robot tottered back off into the cold after Hank collected his food. Hank heard Connor let Sumo back in just as he closed the front door. He ran in and sniffed at Hank, the door, then the food, and kept his nose on it.
“No, not for you.” Hank raised the bag up out of his reach.
Connor followed them into the kitchen, watching their dynamic. Sumo would bounce his front paws slightly off the ground to smell the air, but never jumped up or impeded Hank’s path. Reaching in the cabinet, one that Sumo obviously knew what was in it, Hank procured a rubber chew toy.
It was heavily worn, but had no major pieces missing, only cuts and punctures. Hank had put his food up on the counter, away from the edge and prying eyes and paws. He got a jar of peanut butter, then a bag of treats, and stuffed some in. Connor tilted his head as Sumo began to whine, but sat completely still, aside from a ferociously wagging tail.
“Sumo… have you been good?” Sumo cried quietly, drool seeping from his jowls. “Is this something you want?” Sumo’s paws tapped on the floor as he trembled. “If I give this to you, will you leave me alone while I eat?” Sumo seemed to sneeze in confirmation. “Okay!”
Hank tossed the toy up and Sumo caught it midair and trotted off to his bed. Connor watched on, fascinated, idly looking up dog body language and treats. It allowed him to keep himself busy. Hank noticed his demeanor shift as they both sat at the table.
While Connor was preoccupied, Hank took his time to eat, and drink - in moderation, as best he could. His LED cycled yellow, but it was slow and steady. He wondered if he should engage him or let him keep thinking on whatever it was he had in mind. Hank let himself revel in the calmness of it all.
He hadn’t had a friend over at his house in ages. It felt like he had outgrown it, but he knew that it was him just being a depressed piece of garbage. He’d lived in Detroit his whole life and knew plenty of people, but didn’t keep in touch with them since…
“How old is Sumo?” Connor suddenly asked, his hands folded on the table as if he had started an interrogation.
Hank chewed on his food to think. “Uh, six, seven years now?”
Connor followed up with, “How old is he now?”
“Uh, six or seven years?” He repeated. “We got him as a puppy. He was a present.”
Connor didn’t press. “I like Sumo.”
“You don’t say.” Hank huffed sarcastically, through his food. He swallowed and then said, “He likes you too.”
“How can you tell?” He furrowed a brow.
Connor’s genuine curiosity always amused Hank. “Trust me, you’d know if he didn’t.” Connor quirked his head. “I’m honestly surprised he didn’t chew you up when you broke in.”
“Is he supposed to be a guard dog?” He asked, disbelievingly.
“Oh yeah. Helluva good one, too. He’s bitten just about everyone to step foot in that door.”
“I guess I’m lucky I chose the window.” Connor said completely deadpan.
Hank let out one loud laugh. “Yeah, you’d think, but I’ve had people break in before. Still tears the hell out of them.” Hank watched Connor consider it for a moment then added, “Honestly, it’s part of what made me have second guesses about you.”
Connor perked up, his attention caught. “Why’s that?”
“Dogs know.” Connor’s brow quirked. “They can tell who’s got good intent or not.” Hank could tell he still didn’t understand. “In my eyes, if Sumo doesn’t think you’re a threat to me, then I don’t think you’re a threat to me. I trust his judgement in character.”
The concept was completely foreign to him. “Regardless of my intent, how can he...” Connor didn’t know how to phrase the question, so he tried another. “When we first met, did you take me as a threat?”
Hank frowned and nodded. “In a sense, yeah.”
“What sense?”
“Everyone’s a threat in some way.” Hank shrugged. “Everyone’s got their vices, what they need, what they want, you know. You can’t go and trust someone all willy-nilly. If you do, you’ll wind up dead.”
Markus came to mind. How peacefully he approached Connor, his would-be assassin. How easily he leveled with him, letting him into his ranks and trusting him. Markus couldn’t have known if his intentions were good or not, especially with how Connor approached him - the deviant hunter.
For all intents and purposes, Connor could have infiltrated his ranks under that guise, gaining his trust then killing him in cold blood. He was fully capable of it, and his program even dictated his success, no matter the fallout, be it android or human. But Hank had changed something in him.
“You - you trust me?” Connor’s voice cracked - something so human that he didn’t know he was capable of.
Hank scoffed. “Well, yeah, I mean you saved my life. More than once.” In more than one way. He took a shot, not wanting to bring up his own mental health.
Connor hurriedly said, “I don’t want you to feel indebted to me-”
“Psh.” Hank waved a hand to blow him off. “I know. It’s not just that, I was only making a point.”
Connor pursed his lips and thought about Hank trusting him. Something inside him felt doubly as worse with this knowledge. He didn’t deserve his or Markus’ trust, and it made him feel like he was deceiving them. That’s because I am. How could he break it to them that he wasn’t like them - that he was just a machine?
Hank sat back in his chair and waited for something from Connor, but knew nothing was coming by the intense look on his face. He instead asked, “What about you?” Connor snapped to attention, but was lost. “Do you trust me?”
“Of course.” He answered without hesitation.
“Why?” Hank challenged, raising an eyebrow while he spun his drink in his hand.
“Why?” Connor parroted, like it was something outlandish. “Because I do.”
“That doesn’t really explain why.” Hank chuckled humorlessly. “Name one reason.” Hank couldn’t stop himself before it was out of his mouth. Of course.
It was like something inside him always wanted to prove that he wasn’t worth anything, even if it meant invalidating anyone’s higher opinion of him. He wished he didn’t get so obstinate about it when he was drunk. Wait - am I drunk? Or am I just like this? He had spent so much of the last year smashed that he honestly didn’t know anymore. Luckily, Connor seemed to understand where he was coming from, instead of taking it as an attack on his decisions like so many others had.
“You’ve - you’ve done a lot for me, but… I don’t know how to put it into words, it’s more of something I feel in here.” Connor gestured to his chest, which he knew made no sense for an android, but was worried he would miss the mark if he didn’t. Hank nodded and looked away, then smiled and shook his head at himself. “Hank?”
“I heard you, don’t worry, it didn’t fall on deaf ears. I’m just…” He shrugged. “I’m just not used to being proven wrong.” Hank smiled from his eyes and finished the last of his drink.
He put his fork and glass in the sink, threw away the empty box of rice, and put the extras in the fridge for dinner. With a steep inhale and slow exhale, he turned around and put his elbows on the counter for a moment to look at Connor. He looked back and Hank shot a quick smile at him. They shared a moment of something that Connor couldn’t quite place, but it felt warm.
“So, since we’re on mandatory evacuation,” Hank started, looking at his boarded over window. “Wanna help me fix that? There’s a Home Depot in Canton that should be out of evac’ lines.”
“Sure.” Connor looked up the route. “There is some traffic-”
“We’ll go the back way. I’ll show you.” Hank waved his hand for Connor to follow. He pulled up a map on his computer, showing him which roads that would take them around the main evacuation route. “It’ll take longer, but it’s the scenic route. You haven’t really been out of Detroit yet, have you?”
“No.” Connor confirmed.
“Well, if you like it down this way, then I’ll have to show you more of Michigan.” Hank started for the garage, then said, “It’s been a while since I’ve been out that way, so it might not all be the same, but I hope you’ll still like it.” He grabbed a leash and Sumo was next to him in a flash. “Wanna go for a ride?”