Origninal Over Fakes (Connor X Reader)

Chapter 5

Your POV

"Alright, here's your uniform," I murmur, holding out a set of clothes. I decided to keep it semi-formal and simple. Dark colours and a white dress shirt. "You can change in the bathroom."

The Android nods, taking the clothes and heading to the bathroom. There is a pair of black oxfords sitting on in a box on my desk. Leaning against the desk, I cross my arms, closing my eyes and wait for the Android.

The date is drawing closer by the day.

"I'm sorry but I'm not programmed to tie a tie." Looking up, Connor is holding the black tie.

"Oh, sorry about that." I chuckle, walking up to him. Draping the fabric around his collar, I tie and adjust it. "I didn't think about giving you a tie until after."

"It's alright," he responds, smiling.

I smile to myself, fairly happy.

"You look a lot better after your midterms," he comments.

"Sleep is a miracle worker," I reply, winking before straightening up his clothes. "Alright Connor, what do you think? Can you move comfortably?"

"Yes," he answers. The LED flicks to yellow before back to a blue. "Thank you for tying this."

I shrug. "What type of human would I be if I don't help out?" His stare lingers on me as I grab a clipboard. "Okay, let's continue, yeah?"

-----

There is a lot of work to do. Sending a group email, I inform my colleagues about a minor alteration to our plan. They've been overwhelmed by the whole deviancy issue that is growing like a wildfire.

Let me just tell you a catalyst: denial of the truth.

Swivelling on the chair, I tap the pen against the table. Standing, I pull my (h/c) hair back to get to work. There has been a trade-off-- I take on the difficult android tasks and the others have the smaller ones.

This one might as well be replaced. . .

Arms shredded and legs are dented. I'm going to have to replace those, fix the memory, give more thirium, reconnect, and diagnostic report.

There are some very messed up scenarios going through my head on how this could have happened.

Grabbing the tablet, I work on printing the parts. Then the other tools and supplies are gathering to one place.

Before I can begin to work, I hear the clicks of dress shoes against the floor. Detaching the arms, I replace it quickly. It already looks like a slaughter without the addition of blood.

"What's up?" I question, not looking behind me as I work.

". . . You know a lot about programming and Androids, right?" Connor questions. I can detect settle concern in his voice.

It draws my attention. "Yes."

"I've been experiencing something wrong within my system."

Stopping the project, I turn, looking to him with eyebrow arched. "Wrong how?"

"Something. . . My. . . " He looks hesitant with LED turning yellow. Connor is having issues with forming sentences which is strange.