"I know I...don't have any real input on that, Hank. It wouldn't be right to put any limitations on our agreement because what we have is just--the primary function is safety and convenience, right?"
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.
“I predict it was partly to do what most humans seem to do upon arrival here—seek out what is familiar to them in terms of intimacy.”
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.
“After the President called for a cease-fire, Cyber-Life tried to resume manual control over me. I would predict to either quell it outright by assassinating Markus and sending a message, or by making me some sort of....spy. Maybe they wanted to dismantle it later—or worse.”
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."
“It wasn’t like that,” he says calmly, mainly because he hadn’t viewed it that way. His own motivations were both mission and curiosity related, but Hank’s dislike if Kamski seems to be clouding it.
“I mean—it wasn’t like when I’m with you,” he says in a slightly exasperated tone.
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."
Oh. Hank is....rejecting him, in a manner of speaking. His LED flares red, something wounded flinching across his face because he’s more expressive than he still realizes and he doesn’t have time to stop it.
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."
“It was better with you,” he blurts out in a rush, a look of surprise at himself and at the unexpected response. There were no warnings, no pause for analysis to the potential reaction. He’d taken a risk in admitting it, he realizes as soon as it’s too late to correct.
“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.
His stress level ticks back down, LED whirling back into a calm blue. Why does hearing that reassure him so much? Why does he offer the tiniest little uptick of his lips?
“I just wanted to be honest. And, apparently I wanted—reassurance?”
Admitting his emotions out loud is still clearly a challenge.
“That won’t happen,” he insists. “I wouldn’t choose that—not unless it’s what you wanted, Hank.”
He pauses, knowing there’s a better way to say so.
“I like this. I enjoy what we have.”
But he feels like it’s important to add: “There’s a more thorough way to extrapolate on other circumstances, if you’d like. I downloaded an example of a contract addressing the specifics that we didn’t establish.”
“I apologize for not realizing how lax and possibly irresponsible ours was, initially. There are aspects of your living and comfort I may have been neglecting.”
None of this indicates he has any desire to change or end their partnership in any way, however.
“I know that! I don’t mean any of this to insult what you already know, Hank. I want you to have as much freedom possible here, no matter what the city dictates. If it’s better to say so in writing then....it would be remiss not to,” he says placatingly.
“The important part is just discussing it,” he agrees. But he’s a little surprised Hank can’t see the value of having it in writing after a brush with death and the unpredictable nature of this place. But Connor has always been one for rules and proper documenting.
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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."
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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.
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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.
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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?"
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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.
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"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."
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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.”
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"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.
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“I mean—it wasn’t like when I’m with you,” he says in a slightly exasperated tone.
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"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."
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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.”
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"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."
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“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.
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Hank looks across at him and, uncomfortably, identifies the plummeting sensation in his chest as emotional vulnerability.
"...Was better with you too, honey."
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“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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Hank sighs, letting some of his own stress leach out, and crosses the room to his partner.
"It's okay. It's really okay, Connor, it's just I..."
There's no good way to end this sentence.
"I can be a real dumbass sometimes, that's all."
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There’s a little bit of amusement to his tone there, before he quiets again and steps forward to meet Hank part way.
“So....we’re okay?”
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"Yeah. We're okay. Just...you can just tell me if you wanna rework what we agreed, okay? I won't - take offense, or get mad or anything."
He's not meeting Connor's gaze.
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He pauses, knowing there’s a better way to say so.
“I like this. I enjoy what we have.”
But he feels like it’s important to add: “There’s a more thorough way to extrapolate on other circumstances, if you’d like. I downloaded an example of a contract addressing the specifics that we didn’t establish.”
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"I, uh."
He can't get away from the thought that that doesn't sound...great.
"What kinda specifics?"
Specifics like fucking other people, moron, his own mind helpfully supplies.
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He looks a little sheepish.
“I apologize for not realizing how lax and possibly irresponsible ours was, initially. There are aspects of your living and comfort I may have been neglecting.”
None of this indicates he has any desire to change or end their partnership in any way, however.
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Hank just pulls a face.
"An allowance, Connor? I feel like I've managed budgeting okay for the whole of my life so far, y'know?"
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“I’m sorry. I know it isn’t easy.”
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"Yeah," Hank sighs. "I just don't know why we need it in writing when we can just talk it over."
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“I can take care of the paperwork, you know.”
He gestures vaguely to his temple.
“It would just be a precaution.”
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