ANGELEYES, dbh connor

FORTY-TWO

━━━━━━(●'ω｀●)━

THE NEXT MORNING, THE early sky is surprisingly bright. You and Connor walk, side-by-side, down a snowy road. He stands on the side closest to the oncoming traffic, silently shielding you from any danger, and it's such a subtle, natural action of his that it reminds you just how lucky you are.

Without saying anything, you gently nudge his hand with your own.

He turns his head to face you and raises a brow but you don't respond. Instead of saying anything, you simply take his hand in your own and squeeze his fingers.

In the distance, the Chicken Feed sign is barely lit. After a long night of snowfall, you're sure that it's hanging onto its last life ━ something you completely understand. The thought of how stubborn it is sends a small smile on your face.

"What are you thinking about?" asks Connor, softly.

Since last night, you still haven't mentioned the scars you saw on his back. It's probably better this way, but due to your programming, you're finding it difficult to push those thoughts to the back of your mind. All you really want to do is drill him about it. But you cant ━ that'd be cruel, even by a once-emotionless Android's standards. You don't want to hurt Connor anymore than you have to.

You turn to him and lean into his side as you keep walking. "A lot. My brain works sort of like a computer, I've got too many tabs open right now."

He laughs at your honesty. "Would it help get them off your mind if you say them out loud?"

"That's worth a try... I'm thinking about Hank. If he's been eating since I last saw him. If he's alright since the Cyberlife tower incident. And I'm also thinking about Sumo. I really want to pat his belly," Connor laughs sweetly at that. It's nearly a giggle. You record it with your auditory processors to play it back later. "I'm also mostly thinking about us."

"Yeah?" His fingers gently trail your tender knuckles.

A happy, squirmy feeling encases the pits of your stomach. Whenever you're around him, you feel drunk off joy. Or what you'd imagine being drunk feels like. You're not quite sure if Androids are capable of that feeling━unless you can find out a way to mix hard liquor into your thirium without breaking some vital biocomponants...

You have to bite down on your lower lip to keep yourself from smiling too brightly. "Yep. About last night, I guess... Um, a lot happened."

Carefully, you study Connor's expressions for any shifts. But there's none. Not a single one. How is it that he can deceive even you, with the millions of dollars then went into your superior programming and your hardware designed solely to notice changes in body language?

Or is it that he really isn't bothered by last night's happenings? That things haven't changed... for him.

"Hm," Connor hums. He smiles crookedly, one of his cheeks raising to remind you again of his dimple. "Don't think about it too much. We're almost here, look." He directs his warm brown eyes to the front and nods, an action that causes one of his curls to fall across his forehead.

Standing outside, leaning up against an empty table, is the familiar stature of Lieutenant Anderson. Hank. From the distance, and considering his back is facing you, you're sure he doesn't even know you're coming. It seems to be in Connor's nature to give Hank a surprise rather than text him straightforwardly.

He looks a little more well-groomed than the last time you saw him when he had a gun pressed against his temple from some face-stealing jerk.

"Hey. Before he sees us... What sorta things do you like, Y/N?" Connor asks, suddenly snatching you from your thoughts. You look over at him and then down at your linked hands. "I never got to ask you."