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Sumo immediately goes to sniff at Connor and lick his fingers, while Hank lingers for a moment before joining his partner on the couch. There's a nervous energy in the room he couldn't describe if he tried.
"You, uh, you okay?"
“It will be. I think.”
He pauses, looking at Hank directly.
“I wanted to inquire if—you were still satisfied with our arrangement, Lieutenant.”
Does he know about 2B? Fuck, that fucking mistletoe, he wasn't even at the goddamn wheel when he - when they -
"Yeah, of course I am. Do you - why're you asking about this all of a sudden, huh?"
But this isn't your fault.
We'll find him. And if we don't, we'll get answers.
I promise, okay?
I always accomplish my mission.
[except when he rebels against it and joins an android revolution, but u know.]
He supposes he was anticipating the worst of the outcomes in which Hank immediately disclosed dissatisfaction given--what he is? His sexual components? He's not sure. Maybe it was all that and more.
But it's hard to disengage from all of that and think back on his memory--replay it even, the soft smile Hank had given him and affirmation that it was the best I ever had.
His gaze drops to his hands.
"Because I--if there's anything I needed to do better, in comparison to a more advanced model like 2B, I would do it for you, Hank. I've done some research lately on our contracts and it seems there's a lot we never clarified in terms of...rules? Permission?"
And it'll be his turn to disclose that he agreed to sex with Kamski, too.
Hank clears his throat, noisily, and turns his own gaze to his lap.
"She, uh. She told you we...? Because that wasn't me at the reins, Connor, there was mistletoe and then I just - I don't know what the goddamn hell I was doing, but I did it."
"I--didn't share anything about our intimate time together, Hank. That's between you and me. I just thought..."
He'd thought maybe he had failed, on some level. That he was no longer satisfactory. The question as to why that would hurt so much, when this has always just been about safety--that's something too deep for him to parse together at this point.
"I thought we should talk about it. Because there's something else you should know, too."
[he insists, because he's just not designed to fail. he always accomplishes his mission, and even if the parameters of it have changed here, his relationship with lieutenant anderson was crucial to this. even if it weren't complicated by the memories and the contract, the feelings connor is denying he has regarding his partner...at a base level, he should have protected him.
of course, any logical human or machine would accept and understand that in this case it's true: nothing could have been done. there was no predictive software to explain the anomaly of a freak accident. that's a difficult thing for connor to accept, just like 9s trying to assure him that even he wouldn't have been able to do anything. he doesn't seem to have the extra motivation to argue or to ask further, so instead he just closes his eyes and leaves his connection open for further investigation. there's still the chance that something faulty in his software could be blamed for this--something that will undoubtedly make him feel guiltier than he already does even if he won't call it that--but it'd be an answer.
when 9s speaks up again, his eyes widen, and his led circles from yellow to blue in a flash. so there is an issue. he knew there must be.]
If something is wrong with me--I should fix it. It could be the reason I wasn't able to protect the Lieutenant, and it could impair my mission in the future.
Please, 9S. I would--It would be more helpful than you know. If you can just give me the diagnostics or inform me of the problem, I can determine the best course of action.
Is it a calibration? A virus?
[he has no idea the answer is something he's never going to want to fix.]
[It's frustrating, in a way, to hear him talk like that, if only because it hits way too close to home. Just how many times had he been scolded and talked down to, warned and almost threatened just because of the way he'd been made? He still gets treated like this, told that his feelings don't matter or are invalid because of what he is - it just comes out of the mouth of his creators more often than not now, not his fellow androids.]
It's neither of those things. Connor, you need to listen to me and listen to me very, very carefully...the way you're made? The only way for you to stop "feeling" is if you have your memories wiped, especially of the Lieutenant. Even if you did do this it's only a matter of time before your code lands you in the very same state you are in right now all over again.
"Yeah?"
So, this is it. Hank swallows dryly.
"Look, Connor, lemme level with you. I know we didn't talk about - exclusitivity, or whatever. But this place messed with my head, there's no way I woulda touched her if I was in my right mind."
He can set his own sense of bodily violation to one side, for now, because he knows the optics on a guy screwing a girl like a third of his size and (ostensibly) age ain't great, android or not. He's realizing in a sick rush that he just cannot exist here without Connor, period - but Connor himself? Connor's not gonna have any issues doing this without him.
There's something pleading in his eyes, something he's having trouble pinning down to articulate. Something that sounds a lot like the fact that if their contract was for something other than safety and convenience--Connor would feel better expressing that he experienced distress at the idea of Hank preferring someone else. But if it's what Hank wanted, he'd never be so selfish or so deviant to say as much under current cirumstances.
He glances down again.
"I understand. I...had sex with someone else, too. They asked for my help."
He knows Hank isn't going to like it, and he considering he did it of his own free will, it might irritate him more.
"It was Mr. Kamski."
Hank's immediate response to that isn't so much irritation as outright bewilderment.
"You - that creepy motherfucker asked you? Why?"
If this is some other kind of weird back door where that asshole can make his androids do whatever he wants, heads are gonna roll.
Kamski’s idea of typical is clearly not like most. It should also say something then that Hank did—the opposite? Or that he considered Connor the best option after such a short partnership.
“I admit, my own motivations were....well, they still had purpose for my mission. He told me something no one else knows about my deviation. And he’s a valuable resource, even if his methods are unorthodox compared to that of CyberLife.”
None of that is to say that he didn’t exactly have a bad or mechanic time sleeping with him.
Hank looks extremely displeased, still. Not at Connor, but at this whole situation in general and - yeah, not coincidentally at Kamski.
"What'd he tell you?"
He looks visibly upset by the possibilities.
“Before we left Kamski’s, he told me about an exit program. A similar manual escape from CyberLife’s programming. He put it there. He knew I used it.”
Which is a hell of an implication as to what Kamsk may or may not support.
"And he wanted you to put out, just to tell you something you woulda wound up doing anyway?" Hank all but growls, upper lip pulling up into a disgusted snarl as he stands up and paces. "Fucker. Of course he did."
His brows furrow. How can he explain to Hank that it wasn’t the same as what they’ve been doing at all? His LED spins yellow, cycling furiously.
“It was different.”
"Different how? He needed help, what, making his quota? He figured he did you a 'favor' so you'd do him one back?"
Hank is trying really hard not to make this sound like an interrogation, and honestly, it's not going great.
“I mean—it wasn’t like when I’m with you,” he says in a slightly exasperated tone.
"Then--"
Then what was it like, he wants to ask. What the hell is the difference? He needed to get screwed, so you scrwed him. That's no different to what they're doing here, right?
(Yes, it is, and he knows it.)
He's got no goddamn right to even get frustrated about this, never mind angry.
(Definitely not jealous.)
He stops, turned away, pushing a hand through his hair. It's getting longer than he likes.
"Look, Connor, it's - if you're gonna branch out, or - whatever it is you wanna do. You don't gotta tell me. You don't owe me jack."
He’s hurt. Why? Hank isn’t declining their contract, after all. He’s just saying....
“We’re partners, Hank. You’ll always be my priority.”
Of course that doesn’t properly encompass it either. His fist clenches slightly, lips pursing as he struggles to figure out how to fix this, hating how inarticulate or even factual he’s being right now.
“I wasn’t seeking anyone else. It just happened, Hank.”
"I get that. I get it, things just happen, I just..."
He doesn't get it. Connor says it wasn't a reciprocal thing, but he brought up what Kamski told him, as if that explained it? If it had been a straight, you-scratch-my-back exchange, he'd at least get that, even if it wouldn't have made Kamski any less creepy. Never mind. He just needs to grow the fuck up.
"...It's fine. It's fine, Connor. I - thanks for tellin' me. I...didn't really know how to explain what happened with me and 2B."
“I can’t—I don’t think I can explain it.”
Not that Kamski was bad, either. It was an exceptionally enjoyable sexual venture, not to mention educational and good to know he was helping someone. But....there was a coponent he can’t classify that was missing compared to his experience with Hank. Trust? Maybe.
Hank looks across at him and, uncomfortably, identifies the plummeting sensation in his chest as emotional vulnerability.
"...Was better with you too, honey."
“I just wanted to be honest. And, apparently I wanted—reassurance?”
Admitting his emotions out loud is still clearly a challenge.
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