[Detroit: Become Human] Connor X Reader: Attached.

Chapter 6

I was thinking about the RK900 X Reader, and just was like: You know what? Screw it, I'm doing it.

It would be published as soon as this book is done.

Also, this story is going wayyy too fast. It's only Chapter 6, and we are halfway through Connor's story.

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The ball bounced back to your hand as you threw it to the ground.

You were few feet away from your desk, leaning against your chair lousily as you threw the ball to the ground. It went flying to the edge of your desk, then at you. From there, you grabbed the ball mid-air, and the cycle started again.

Soon enough, you threw the little toy at the wrong angle, missing the edge when it bounced back up. You didn't bother picking it up and try again. You simply just stared at it as it rolled away. As soon as it slowed down and finally came to a stop, you averted your gaze, hoping to find something else to keep you entertained as you waited. Even Reese's obnoxious curses as he spilled piping hot coffee on himself (which you would usually laugh and told him to suck it) didn't seem to get a single reaction out of you.

Wait... Reese? Reed? Weed? Eh, you don't care. His ego was too big to be stored in your memory. You could barely remember his name.

"I believe this is yours, Detective."

Your little (f/c) baseball completely filled up your field of vision. From the corner of your eyes, you could see the uniform (which was a huge giveaway as to who it was) of the voice's owner, but you knew exactly who it was even before you caught the sight of his attire.

"Mmhm," you hummed, having no intention whatsoever to make it seem like you cared. You only lifted your hand to grab your possession from the android and did the cycle of throwing and catching once again.

When Hank pulled the trigger without a second thought, he didn't realize that Connor was standing right beside him— not in front of him. While you were relieved that no blue blood was spilled, the events of last night was still fresh in your mind.

Those Traci... even if they're just androids I just...

You furrowed your eyebrows as you threw the ball with a much greater force, earning a rather perplexed expression from Connor. You didn't care, of course.

They just seem so... real.

"Detective, may I ask you a question?"

You blinked once (or maybe twice. Who keeps track on the amount they blink, anyway?) at the words of Connor and raised your eyebrow, but your gaze remained on the toy. Connie assumed that your expression was waiting for him to go on.

"... Where did you get the nickname 'Pancake'?" As soon as the last word left his mouth, the ball stopped in your hand. The rhythm of hitting and bouncing ceased.

"...." for a while, you didn't say anything. The embarrassing events that led to that nickname came flooding back, and you didn't enjoy it one bit. ".... It's nothing. Just... something stupid that Hank came up..."

"It seemed that everyone is fond of calling you that."

You sneaked a glance towards Connor, who stood there, awaiting your response patiently.

"What's it to you, anyways?" You growled, throwing the ball on the desk, no longer interested in it. However, it ended up rolling away, inevitably falling off the edge. Again, you didn't care.

"I was just curious," he said, grabbing the baseball for you and placed it on your desk gently and carefully so that it would stay still and not run away.