Connor suppresses the flush threatening to heat underneath his artificial cheeks when she takes his hand again and says...that. He knows realistically she means that they'll need to learn in their own way, not necessarily with each other, but...it's not hard to let preconstructions start formulating. He opens his palm more than willingly, letting their fingers lace together.

He hesitates just for a moment, a little overcome by the sentiment that he holds any measure of importance to the people that he once was meant to hunt down and betray. There are at least three bodies hung up on the wall at the DPD or in FBI storage that are a physical testament to that. And yet...it's like Markus had said. He wants badly to believe that he's one of them now too, that he can have a second chance to understand what it means to have his own identity, hopes and desires like any human.

So he lifts their hands together slightly, just enough to brush his fingers lightly across her knuckles in an affectionate manner before glancing up through his lashes.

"I'd like that, Chloe."

He doesn't quite pick up on her implication, though it'll be a topic of conversation in the near future. It doesn't seem polite to bombard her with questions about the man she's just walked out on so soon. He'd rather have her settle in a bit before prying into the circumstances, out of a sense of duty and his own personal curiosity. At the time he'd been disturbed by the effect it had on his psyche--the way his hand had been forced and he'd been pushed into his deviancy--but he has to wonder if that's something that was familiar to Chloe. He frowns slightly, fingers flexing just enough to be noticeable.

"I'm glad I was the one to find you, and that I'll be able to keep you safe for now."