“Before,” he agrees with a nod. He adds a specific reminder to his task list of priorities, overriding a few protocols to make sure he’ll have a way to get the message out to Hank, even if something unpredicted occurs.
“Thank you, Hank. For understanding.”
He doesn’t let go of his hand glancing down at it and just...enjoying the visual for a moment.
Connor sits down next to him, close enough to nudge their knees together and keep their fingers laced.
“Mr. Kamski is—unorthodox in some of his methods, and I agree there are signs of a narcissistic personality—but he seems....most interested in my choices. My preferences. The symptoms of my...”
He hasn’t broken down his wall—he hasn’t failed his overall mission parameters. He’s still monitoring Simon—the only one left. But he can’t deny that he’s experiencing anomalies too, and he’s not just cataloguing emotions that 9s shares with him. He’s actually feeling them.
“But I can accept that I’m not just an unfeeling machine anymore, Hank. When you were gone, I—mourned you. It hurt.”
He recognizes now that before all this—the things that they did were also enjoyable. But they didn’t have the same sensations tied to them, mémorable on a much more physical level. And it wasn’t just because of his own pleasure.
“I can only conclude that I have strong feelings associated with you and our time shared. Feelings that enhance overall experience.”
“It seems....complicated. More difficult to express. It’s like that phrase—something about having to go through an obstacle rather than around it. For perspective?”
Because he certainly wouldn’t be able to express any of this to Hank if he hadn’t been through the ordeal of losing him—not without significant development. It occurs to him that’s much like most other deviants: responding to a shock, experiencing tragedy or anger.
Connor leans in, immediately registering Hank's warmth and noting it as an affectionate gesture. He decides to reciprocate by--tilting his head, letting it rest against Hank's shoulder comfortably.
It's nice--he likes this. That's an easy acceptance.
"I guess what I'm trying to say, Hank, is that--I appreciate you. For more than just working with you, though I enjoyed that too, and it's a topic we need to revisit soon. But...most of my appreciation is from our shared time together, intimate and otherwise. I think we're--friends?"
Maybe more than that, but at the very least, that seems a reasonable conclusion to draw.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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"Same here. This is...this is new to me too, okay?"
Yeah, he's had relationships, he's been married. That's about as distant from this as sharing a dorm is from having a cellmate.
"Let's just...keep talking. Before shit happens, if we get the chance."
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“Thank you, Hank. For understanding.”
He doesn’t let go of his hand glancing down at it and just...enjoying the visual for a moment.
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Hank finally relaxes enough to sit on the couch, drawing Connor down with him.
"...I'm amazed that fucker didn't program you to think he's the best you ever had," he mutters.
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“Mr. Kamski is—unorthodox in some of his methods, and I agree there are signs of a narcissistic personality—but he seems....most interested in my choices. My preferences. The symptoms of my...”
He takes a shaky, artificial breath.
“Deviancy.”
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Hank squeezes his hand lightly.
"That what you're calling it now?"
Has he finally accepted the way the tide's been turning?
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He hasn’t broken down his wall—he hasn’t failed his overall mission parameters. He’s still monitoring Simon—the only one left. But he can’t deny that he’s experiencing anomalies too, and he’s not just cataloguing emotions that 9s shares with him. He’s actually feeling them.
“But I can accept that I’m not just an unfeeling machine anymore, Hank. When you were gone, I—mourned you. It hurt.”
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"And when I got back, when we - you felt that too, right?"
He told him as much, at the time.
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He recognizes now that before all this—the things that they did were also enjoyable. But they didn’t have the same sensations tied to them, mémorable on a much more physical level. And it wasn’t just because of his own pleasure.
“I can only conclude that I have strong feelings associated with you and our time shared. Feelings that enhance overall experience.”
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Hank chuckles, glancing down at their hands. Shit. He feels like he's back at high school, clumsily navigating the onslaught of hormonal emotion.
"That's how it works for humans, buddy."
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Because he certainly wouldn’t be able to express any of this to Hank if he hadn’t been through the ordeal of losing him—not without significant development. It occurs to him that’s much like most other deviants: responding to a shock, experiencing tragedy or anger.
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He lets go of Connor's hand, but only so he can wrap an arm around his shoulders and pull him closer.
Hey, here's the android I bitched and whined about having as my partner, I guess he's kinda my boyfriend now.
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It's nice--he likes this. That's an easy acceptance.
"I guess what I'm trying to say, Hank, is that--I appreciate you. For more than just working with you, though I enjoyed that too, and it's a topic we need to revisit soon. But...most of my appreciation is from our shared time together, intimate and otherwise. I think we're--friends?"
Maybe more than that, but at the very least, that seems a reasonable conclusion to draw.
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"We're definitely friends, Connor. You don't gotta wonder about that."
Hank rubs his shoulder lightly.
"And yeah, I guess we need to work out something to do with our time, huh."