#connor is a good ol' murder-bot

[tartrazeen]

Starlight

Hank wants to see the stars. Connor tries his best. Some post-revolution, Rated-PG-13, pre-HankCon fluff as they figure this out. (Rough draft, reader beware.)

This is an idea I had, but since I don’t have time to write as its own fic, I thought I’d share it by describing what would happen: Picture Hank, some time before he and Connor get together. Imagine the two of them in the same house after Connor’s deviancy. Everything’s following the canon. The revolution came, the fear is there, and silence always feels like the calm before another storm. It’s tense for everyone, and Hank and Connor have quietly agreed to make their home some sort of escape: they don’t talk about it. It works about as well as any of Hank’s ways to cope. Not talking means it isn’t getting worse, even if those thoughts are looming in his mind. He’s curious – he wouldn’t mind knowing what Connor’s take is on the situation, if Connor sees light at the end of a long tunnel, or if Connor’s only going through the motions – but he isn’t going to ask. That might break something. He’s perfectly aware he can’t lose Connor over this, even if the ‘why’ hiding underneath is part of the tension he can’t touch. There’s nothing special about the night that it happens. Maybe it was on Hank’s mind those last few nights they were walking Sumo – Connor wants to be outside as often as he can, as if he’s overcompensating. Hank doesn’t mind the air and Sumo could sure as hell use the exercise. It’s a different escape. It takes a minute, but once they’re outside, the silence just becomes… … peaceful. He can see the stars. Hank notices Connor looking around at the other houses and streets. Never up. Just around. He didn’t realize he’d been paying attention to where Connor wasn’t looking before then. They’d made it to the park and the sky was clear, but Connor seemed calmly focused on the trees. So he asks. Well. Almost. He asked about as well as he ever asks anything.  “Nice sky,” he says. Then he waits for Connor to give his take. Connor agrees. That’s all Hank needed to hear.

He brought it up again the next time. It wasn’t a lie; it was another nice night. Connor picked up on that enough to offer to stay. And they do for a little while. It’s Connor who brings it up the third time. It’s Connor who takes it further. They’re almost home again – after they’d again agreed it was a nice night – when Connor asks him if he’d like to go another walk once Sumo’s inside. They can look at the sky. That seemed harmless. It wasn’t as peaceful as before, but it was close enough. The tension wasn’t the same as the kind he’d been shrugging off from the weight of the revolution. They looked at the sky. Hank saw the stars. That was it. He doesn’t mean to shuffle back inside the house as quickly as he does, but he wants that escape from talking again. He gets braver for the time after that. Hank outright asks if Connor wants to look at the stars that night. No Sumo this time either. Connor gives his almost-smile and assumes the sky must be nice. And it is. Sorta. Some clouds, but they aren’t too in the way. He strikes up a conversation. “Very nice.” He forgot that he’s an idiot. Luckily Connor was more of an idiot, because he asked, “The clouds?” The stars. An almost-smile. The tension turned awkward. Then uncomfortable. Hank asks if Connor wants to go in and Connor agrees to whatever Hank wants to do, and they’re outside. Their agreement was for inside. “I thought the point of being deviant was doing what you wanted,” he says. Too much bite. Less of a smile than almost one. They could go back in and leave it there. “I’m out here because I want to be,” Connor replies, not leaving it. “The rest was for your benefit.” Tension turned awkward turned uncomfortable turned bitter. But Hank knows how to cope with that. They escape inside the house and Connor agrees to leave him to it. That should be a bad sign. Instead, Hank appreciates the time it gives him to think. He’s not far into his second drink before he feels brave. “Think the clouds are done. Or – gone or… whatever.” Fourth drink, then. That was usually Hank got bad at math. And apparently bad at the weather, because when they’re outside, there aren’t any stars to be seen. He’s pissed and ready to turn around. Connor’s looking at the sky. “What are you doing?” It’s a gray mass up there. Hank checks again in case he’s a bigger idiot than he thought. No stars. “I’m watching the satellites,” Connor reports. Less bite. More awkward. “I’m sorry. We can go if you want.” Hank’s not angry – despite what’s probably still on his face – and he says as much, then asking, “You can see those?” Yes. “How many?” A lot. “Is that interesting?” Connor gives an almost-smile – more awkward, no bite – and says, “I like to track their patterns.” The patterns tell each satellite’s age and purpose, even its origin. When they stutter, it can mean they’ve hit trash. The newest ones make corrections around that. They’re ‘elegant’, apparently, and Connor likes to analyze whether each correction had to do with the amount of debris floating up there or the equipment’s sophistication. He’s named what he thinks are the trash piles – based on how many satellites have stuttered or curved around – after the problems they are. Three got named after Gavin. Connor’s been doing this for more than a night. “I meant to just keep busy while you were looking,” Connor admits. Embarrassed. “It got fun.” Relaxed. “I think I can understand why humans do it.” Hank points out that he’s been looking at stars. Humans can’t see satellites. Embarrassed. Connor offers to go. He must’ve really been on his fifth drink, because he stays. It’s not cold out, and maybe it’s a crappy night for him, but if Connor’s enjoying it, who’s Hank to take that away? “Would you like to see?” Connor takes Hank’s phone. The screen changes to black, with a series of lines streaking across in a dozen directions. Connor explains that’s from tonight. The screen changes, and Connor talks about the time they ran out of creamer in the breakroom and Gavin threw a fuckin’ fit for twenty minutes. Eight lines veer deliberately around some sight unseen – except for one, which plows through. Connor’s named the satellites too, of course, and that one’s Ben. When the screen changes for a fourth time, that’s Hank finally looks up from his phone to see Connor still staring up. Hank’s curious. He reaches out. He grabs Connor by the jaw and points his head a different way. The screen changes. A live-stream. Then Hank sees himself. “Sorry you didn’t get to see anything,” Connor says, watching him. The stream ends. His phone goes back to its default wallpaper. Hank deliberately waits for another crappy night. “Figured… th’screen – y’know…” Five drinks out of the gate. “S’bigger.” Connor streams the satellites on Hank’s TV, since Hank took the effort to haul it outside. They name a few other trash piles, since Hank’s also a fountain of knowledge on Gavin’s fuckin’ tantrums. He’s so involved that he almost forgets to check the sky himself. Stars. Patches of them. It’s clearing up again. “Guess we’re not gonna see as much now.” Not that he doesn’t like stars. They were why he’d stayed out with Connor in the first place. He’d just been enjoying their time as it was. “You can look at them,” Connor offers. “I’ll let you know if Jeff and Tina survive.” Someone took Gavin’s ‘best’ mug from the kitchen. Good luck to Jeff and Tina – Jeff was apparently set to plow through. “When it’s a nicer night, we’ll rename some normal constellations,” Hank says. Connor almost-smiles. Hank notices Connor had been smiling. “I can load a reference,” Connor reports. “If we put it on the TV, I can map the satellites against a star chart.” “Or we can point at ‘em.” More awkward. Tense. Hank’s uncomfortable. “Just figured I’d save you some work.” “We can try that,” Connor says. “You’d be doing the pointing.” Hank’s an idiot. “All that CyberLife tech and you can’t point?” Uncomfortable. Bitter. “I’m not exactly designed for stargazing.” And they were outside. “I can work with a chart.” The stream had ended, but the sky had been clearing up before that. There weren’t any stars while Hank had been watching. “Oh.” Connor helps him inside. It’s a different kind of embarrassed. “Why not?” He’d been feeling particularly brave the next morning. “It takes a certain sensitivity and steadiness to capture objects that faint. Some androids might be designed for it. Most can’t since it’s not necessary. I was built with other targets in mind.” Oh. “Pretty sure my phone can –” Connor wasn’t a phone. He reminded Hank of this as frankly as he could, considering their no-talking rule. There weren’t many other nights he could wait for. Finding a ‘good’ one seemed… bad. They just took Sumo for his walk and occasionally lingered outside of the house until it got too tense. He thought he could pick a day and surprise Connor – surprising Connor seemed to be a thing for Hank lately – but it went about as well as any other surprise. In that it didn’t. Connor, for his part, kept to their unspoken agreement. Hank didn’t pry even if he’d wanted to. It seemed uncomfortable. Things didn’t change until a sunny afternoon, when Connor announced that Ben had died. That stupid almost-smile was practically a grin as Hank twisted to find the context. “When’d that happen?” Today. “You get a newsletter or something?” Connor saw it at lunch. That’s what he looks at lately. It’s not as if he can eat, and Hank – oddly enough – doesn’t appreciate the cholesterol updates. He doesn’t mean to drive home as quickly as he does. He just reminds himself that he’s an idiot. Sumo gets all of two minutes of their time before Hank throws Connor back in the car. They don’t talk about it, even as the tension gets awkward. Even as it gets uncomfortable. Even as it gets bitter. By then, any questions that Connor could’ve asked were answered by the planetarium itself. So Hank asks his own. “You wanna… see?” They go back to awkward. Connor agrees. That’s all Hank needed to hear. The tour was kinda hokey. It was informative in that pity-for-the-parents way. But the star projections were why they were here. Everything should’ve bright enough for an android to see, including one that was built with other targets in mind. Sure, it wasn’t the same but… Close enough. “We should get a dome,” Connor says. Relaxed. “Sumo might like it.” ‘We’. “Where exactly do you think we’d get a dome?” “We could take their dome,” Connor suggests. They’re outside. They could talk about it. “Pretty sure that’s illegal,” Hank says in the meantime. “What are you, a cop?” “Sometimes.” He’s on the edge of breaking something. It feels tense, suddenly. Awkwardly. “I could quit, you know. I’ve got that option. If I wanted it.” Uncomfortable. “Just because I’ve been one way, it doesn’t mean I can’t be something else. That’s… free will for you.” He’s an idiot. Hank’s trying, but he’s an idiot. “You’re sweet.” Oh. More of a smile than not this time. “We’re still taking their dome.” “… Now?” No. It could wait, according to Connor. The forecast said it’d be clear tonight and that had usually set their plans. They could relax together. In their own way.

[wolveria]

Inside Your Wires - Ch 6

Pairing: Human!Connor x Android!Reader

Series Warnings (18+ only): Eventual smut, slow burn, fantasy bigotry, violence, brief noncon elements, angst with a happy ending

Chapter summary: Connor gets his new assignment. He's not thrilled.

AO3

Story moodboard by @uh-kitty-got-wet​

Chapter 5 art by @semains​ (18+ only)

November 6th, 2038

Saturday 09:56AM

There was a time when Connor didn’t have to come in on Saturdays. He remembered the days when mandatory overtime was few and far between.

Not anymore. 2038 seemed to be the year shit just kept happening, and now that he thought about it, quite a few of it seemed to be because of androids. Ones gone missing. Disobeying orders. And now, homicidal.

Connor rubbed the bridge of his nose after putting his car into park, regretting how enthusiastically he’d hit the bottle last night. It wasn’t too bad this time, just an annoying throbbing behind his eyes, but it made it more difficult to see and he’d had to squint through his windshield.

Whatever. The reason for his shame-drinking was no longer relevant. Connor just had to survive until lunchtime, and if he were lucky, Hank would let him go early. He tried not to itch at the butterfly bandages on his cheek, applied himself after he’d woken up in a haze with blood on his pillow having completely forgotten the injury existed.

Connor kept his head down as he walked through the lobby of the station and through the security checkpoint to the bullpen proper. He tried not to be completely antisocial, however, and sent weak smiles at the coworkers who bothered to notice he was there.

Helen, Alexander, and Rupert all acknowledged him with various degrees of warmth, some colder than others, and all pretty much deserved. Ralph gave Connor a nervous smile from his chair, though it quickly faded as his eyes flickered to something across the room.

Frowning, he followed Ralph’s eye line across the bullpen and scowled when he spotted Colin leaning casually against Connor’s desk, talking to… someone. He couldn’t see who, Colin’s figure blocking them from view.

Against his better judgement, Connor drew closer, pressure building at the back of his neck, an uneasy feeling of dread that increased with each step.

“Con’s just gonna love this. But seriously, if he bitches about it too much, or gives you a hard time, you can always partner up with me. I won’t mind one bit, promise.”

Connor would have rolled his eyes at his brother’s typical cocksure demeanor, but instead, he went stock still at the familiar voice that answered.

“While the offer is appreciated, Lieutenant, my instructions stipulate that I must assist Detective Anderson with his new, specialized caseload. I’m sure you can understand that CyberLife only wishes to cooperate with the DPD and does not want to interfere with police procedure—“

“What the hell are you doing here?”

The YN800 model blinked and turned its head to meet Connor’s eye, its little blue light blinking for a moment before solidifying again.

It was sitting in Connor’s chair.

“It’s good to see you again, Detective,” it answered, chipper as ever as a fake smile graced its features.

Connor looked the prototype over, his nose crinkling at its appearance. The suit must have been brand new, there were no stains or bullet holes, and her—its hair was once again pinned upwards into a perfect knot.

He felt his insides churn at the near slip, at thinking for even a split second that this thing was a person. Shoving down the crude thoughts of the night before, Connor gave the order through gritted teeth.

“Get. Up.”

The prototype did as it was told, for once. It rose out of his chair, not even having the decency to look chagrined as it straightened its jacket of nonexistent wrinkles.

“I’m sorry, Detective, but I tried to call your phone and left you a message. It was not my intention to surprise you—“

“Oh, no, it’s never your intention to do anything, is it?” Connor snarled back. His headache was in full force now, and he swore he could see the bright lights of the station brighten in time with his heartbeat.

“Aw, c’mon!” Colin slapped him on the shoulder. “Be nice to the temp.”

“Temp?” Connor answered, voice pulled as taut as a wire.

“Yeah, you know. The temporary assistant. The new girl. The—“

He shoved Colin’s hand off his shoulder, leveling a glare at both of them. Colin merely shot him a shit-eating grin while the YN800 stood there, hands clasped behind its back at parade rest, polite and perfect as ever.

“Connor!”

All three of them turned toward the voice booming across the room.

“Get in here!”

Connor glared at the android, as if Hank’s shouting were its fault, which was probably the case.

He turned without a word and stalked to the captain’s office, shoulders hunched as his heart raced and his hands shook at his sides. He let the glass door fall shut behind him, but when he didn’t hear the whoosh of it close, he glanced over his shoulder to see the YN800 had followed him inside.

Great.

Connor stood in front of the desk with his arms crossed.

Hank sat down in his chair, pointedly looking at the chairs in front of his desk. Connor remained standing.

The older man glared, answering Connor’s attitude with a look and a heavy sigh.

“Bet you’re wondering what that’s about.” Hank jerked his chin over Connor’s shoulder. The prototype had taken a spot at the back of the office, observing politely with its hands clasped in front of its hips.

“Yeah, I am.” Connor was a little too cranky this morning to try a more diplomatic approach. “What the hell is it doing here?”

“I’ll get to that. First on the docket, I got a shit ton of android-related cases filling up our database every day and I’m at wit’s end.” Hank took a deep breath, bracing himself as he met Connor’s eye. “Which is why I’m assigning all of these cases to you.”

“You’re what?”

Connor stared at him, dumbfounded.

“You think that case last night was a one-off? We’ve got more android-related crimes rolling in, including assaults and homicides just as bad as the Ortiz case, and right now, you’re the one with the most experience.” Hank leaned his elbows on his desk as he leveled a formidable glare his way. “Is that going to be a problem, Connor?”

 “Yeah, it is a problem, Hank! Why the hell do I have to do this? What about Colin? He was with me at the crime scene and was there for the interrogation!” Connor shoved a finger at the glass wall to prove his point.

Hank’s jaw tightened. Connor had seen that behavior enough times to recognize how he was pushing his luck.

“CyberLife asked for you specifically.”

“What?” Connor blinked, dumbfounded once again, racking his brain but coming up empty. “Why?”

“The hell if I know!” Hank barked back, rising to his feet as he pointed a finger at Connor, “and frankly, I don’t give a damn. Colin’s got enough on his plate—“

“—and I don’t?” Connor interrupted, scowling. Hank sighed and rubbed a hand down his face, and Connor almost felt guilty for his outburst.

Almost.

“That’s not what I said.”

“But it’s what you implied.” He tried not to sound like a hurt child, but, well, that’s exactly what he sounded like.

“For fuck’s sake, Connor! There are more people that are gonna start dying from this!”

“Yeah, I know, but—“

Hank lifted his hand, palm forward, effectively shutting Connor up.

“You saw what one of those deviants was capable of last night, and that was with three of you and another android trying to get it under control! You think the average person stands a chance against one of these fucks? That a little ol’ grandma can defend herself against the murderous robot gardener coming at her with a pair of shears? What the hell happens when a nanny bot decides to take a human kid for itself? Oh, wait, that’s already happened, and you would know that if you checked the goddamn case files I sent you!”

Connor was silent as Hank deflated. The older man leaned back against his desk as he looked through his glass wall out over the bullpen. His voice was rough but much quieter for the next round.

“We’re totally in the dark, Connor. We don’t know how bad this is gonna get and how many androids we’re dealing with. This has the potential to turn into a fucking nightmare with Detroit as ground zero.” Hank’s gaze drifted over Connor’s shoulder to the elephant, or the machine, in the room. “CyberLife was gracious enough to send us a state-of-the-art prototype until this issue is contained. It’s gonna be your partner until such a time that these androids are no longer a threat, and then you’re free to go back to being a misanthropic son-of-a-bitch as much as you like.”

Connor was thoroughly shamed by the end of Hank’s speech, that old familiar feeling of disappointment making his gut roil with nausea, but his anger hadn’t entirely flagged. He clenched his hands tightly to his thighs, fingers desperate for either his coin or his cigarettes.

Connor hadn’t felt the need for one in months. This was bad.

“Hank,” he tried again, his voice soft and pleading in that way he knew Hank couldn’t ignore. “I’m not saying this just to be a pain in your ass. I understand the stakes, but I genuinely believe I’m not qualified for these types of cases. I’m not a CyberLife technician, or an AI specialist, or a computer engineer. I’ve never even owned an android.”

That last one was technically true but only in the barest sense, and Hank gave him a knowing look. It wasn’t without sympathy, and his own answer was given with more kindness than he probably deserved.

“I know, Connor. I also know you’re the sharpest pair of eyes on the force, not to mention the quickest brain and the best instinct. You see shit other people don’t, even Colin, and you’ve got this creepy knack for taking one look at a person and knowing what makes ‘em tick. I’d say you’re almost like an android yourself, but I know how much that’d piss you off.”

Connor gave him another narrow-eyed scowl, and Hank immediately put up his hands as a sign of surrender even as a smirk played on his lips.

“My point is, I need you on this, son. I know it’s not ideal, hell, it downright sucks, but I know you can do this. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

And there it was. As effective as Connor’s pleading expressions could be, they were nothing in comparison to his need for Hank’s praise. The old geezer knew it, too.

And throwing a “son” into the mix was a goddamn dirty move, but Connor couldn’t even muster up annoyance. He just sighed, gave Hank the smallest hint of a smile, and said, “All right. But only until these cases are solved. Once the deviancy issue is addressed, the prototype is going back to CyberLife and you never give me an android case again.”

“I’ll pay for the postage to ship it back myself,” Hank said, smile wide and pleased as he patted Connor on the shoulder before returning to his desk. “And I want daily reports on the progress you and your new partner are making. Gotta make sure CyberLife’s best is pulling its weight.”

“I can assure you, Captain Anderson, I am worth every penny. And considering it took a small fortune to build me, I—“

“Yeah, yeah,” Hank interrupted the prototype, using that catchphrase that Connor and all of his brothers had picked up years ago. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

The android blinked almost comically before giving a slow nod. It then turned to face Connor, straightening its back at attention, and he rolled his eyes. He was still being handed the shit end of the stick, but he couldn’t deny that the cases were piling up and Hank really did need the extra help.

But why, out of all the androids in the world, did it have to be one like that.

Exhaling sharply through his nose, Connor turned and left Hank’s office, not waiting to see if the android would follow, knowing with a sinking feeling, it would.

Next Chapter

[tartrazeen]

Random HankCon Reverse AU Post

I wrote this on Discord some months back, and very luckily somebody fantastic helped me out by finding it! <3 <3 <3 The context was around the HK series already being a canonical type of android in the game: it's a housekeeper model, like the HK-400 Connor hunts down in his first investigation with Hank. So from that, everyone was discussing a reverse AU where Hank was an HK housekeeper, Connor was an overworked older brother taking care of his younger brother, and one of them was proposing that Connor just rent an HK to help around the house and take the load off. And from that, I came up with this roughly described - but still fun and angsty - concept. Picture reading it as I wrote it: mid-conversation, and butting in to slap this idea onto everyone. :D

Omg - Hank helping out enough in just a few ways by making lunch or something, or dinner for the next night, and Connor actually having time to go to sleep and spend time with both of them. Or Hank activating a Cranky Child Up Past His Bedtime protocol and making Connor go to bed, because the poor guy doesn't have an off-switch when every single case just needs a 'few more minutes' for him to crack it.

Connor having such a rough week that his little brother saves up cash from - pfft, I dunno, what's stupidly diabetically sweet enough for this - recycling beer bottles from around the neighbourhood, purely to rent Hank for Connor's sake AND THEN IT BECOMES LIKE SOME KINDA WEIRD-ASS DATE THAT NEITHER OF THEM SEEM TOO INTERESTED IN ENDING But then - then - they get into a bit of a routine like that. Connor's happy enough to rent Hank when his little brother needs him, but now it's grown into a... "Okay, fine, if I need him too, then that just helps both of us. That's okay." ... And then one day, his little brother's staying at a friend's house or something, and Connor's - just... bored? Lonely? Tired? He's not sure. But he flicks over to a website, sees Hank is available, and decides to rent Hank really just for himself. And it's the first time that's ever happened without a kid in the house or without Connor himself being too exhausted to function, so it officially becomes a weird-ass date of them hanging around. Maybe going outside to get air. Whatever happens. Now here's where I can draw upon some more IRL bullshit: water heater rentals. These things last ten years, you pay $40 a month to rent them, but at the end of the tenth year, you'd still have to pay to buy it out. And that - despite everything you pay - could still cost like $6,000. Even if you bought the thing outright, it would've cost $5,000.

I say that because I imagine Connor getting to the point where he's thinking... he might buy Hank. Whenever rental products go up for sale, there's usually a steep discount, so he thinks it won't cost too much. No one else rents Hank as much as he does anyway, and he's not sure how much he's spent, but surely that would knock the price down. He's still very much trying to think of this as a practical transaction to manage the purchase of a machine, after all. Except Connor is the one asking to buy Hank. The company isn't offering. So the sticker shock at the price is - just... unbelievable. To the point that Connor very much regrets even opening his mouth. And the nanny company says it's that or they throw Hank out, because - just the IRL - they can't be seen selling Hank cheaper or giving him away when they're done with him, or they'd never make any money. "People would just wait until he's thrown out and go dumpster diving." So now we have a ticking clock and Connor has a bill to pay. We could do two things from here: 1) Connor gets the money (spoiler). It isn't easy. He's already doing all the overtime he's allowed because he's volunteered for it - he can't afford to let something like sleep get in the way of catching a murderer - so he's making the most that he can. He doesn't have any vacation or sick days to cash in because he's used them all whenever he's burnt out; that's probably why he looked into getting Hank in the first place. And it's not like he has time to get a second job or anything. It's his little brother that asks, "Do we really need a car?"

So they both start selling everything. They don't really need a crappy couch. This table's been wobbly since day one. A garage full of crap that is coated in dust and grime is just enough to get them over the edge of it. And it's a weird feeling, bringing a nanny-bot back to an almost empty house. Connor might comment on how there'd be a lot less to clean, which is bullshit, but the best he can in defence of it all. So Hank takes it for what it is, slowly appreciating exactly what this meant for all of three of them. It's an empty house that's quickly become a full home. 2) Connor doesn't get the money (yesssssssssssss) Because there's just no way to pay that. It's ridiculous - even if he could afford it, he should still be arresting these people, because this is an obvious robbery. He can't make that last leap to admit this is more than a machine to help around the house, and the company - just... "Okay. You have three days to change your mind if you're interested." His little brother tries to get him to. He asks if Connor can just sell the car. Not only is that a bad idea, because how else is Connor going to get to work, but who's going to pay that much for it anyway? It's not worth it, Hank is a walking piece of plastic programmed to be friendly, and if they need a nanny-bot so bad, they can buy a new one for a third of what the rental company is charging. On the second-last day, his little brother tries the ol' "Rent Hank for Connor's sake" trick. It's a last-ditch effort to get Connor to admit that they would all feel awful losing Hank, machine or not. He's real enough to them, right? Wrong. Plastic. Money. Facts. Connor's more pissed that his little brother wasted more cash that could've gone towards paying a price they would never be able to afford anyway, and walks off to let his little brother hang out with the android for a last night. He doesn't want to draw this out for himself, and Hank had better be gone by the time Connor comes home.

Connor doesn't do much. He mostly just walks around for hours. And for way too long - eventually, he's at a park, and there's Hank emerging from the snow (oh yeah, it's snowing) to gently wait there in silence. That goes on for long enough for Connor to accept that he's going to miss Hank. It's a short conversation, and Hank's used the Cranky Kid protocol for Connor to know to start heading back, but that's all Connor says: "We'll miss you, I guess. Thanks." Hank is gone by the time Connor wakes up. The house is quiet, his little brother has his breakfast, and Connor has his lunch made. And that is what really gets to him. Hank - over and above his programming - once again took care of Connor, too. Those walls that were already dropping finally drop the rest of the way, and knowing perfectly well that he's too late, he calls the rental company up to ask if there's a payment plan or some extension or anything he can do to keep Hank. There is! Fortunately! And if Connor would like to arrange that for any of these other rental androids, the company can certainly help. What about Hank? Well, this is a business. They had a deadline and costs around that deadline, so they couldn't keep waiting around forever in the hopes that some family changed their mind about buying a standard android. It's unfortunate, but yes, Hank was appropriately disposed of. Would Connor like to buy another android that looks like Hank instead? Connor hangs up before they can give him the full sales pitch. His little brother notices. His work notices. Everyone notices that Connor's different lately. He's reached an almost terrifying level of laser focus on his work. He has all the time he wants to catch all the bad guys he feels like, and he does because who's going to stop him, really? And it goes like that while his little brother keeps asking for Connor to rent a different android, or to just buy one that's like Hank. On and on and on and on and on and on and on until Connor finally just loses it, dumps his phone on the ground, tells his brother to do whatever the hell he wants so long as he shuts up, and storms back out. He's out there for hours in the cold, half to spite Hank's memory - that he's become painfully reliant on for reasons he ascribes to guilt - and half because he knows it's not only guilt he's feeling. Everything tingles. His fingers, his nose, his ears, and he's at least considering going home to his car so he can warm up without having to do a walk-of-shame back inside. He's saving that for when his brother's asleep. This is roughly a minute before he notices Hank walking out in the snow. Not Hank. Not exactly. It's another android that looks like Hank, and that jolt in Connor's chest twists into a searing ache again. He's changed his mind and he's out here entirely for spite now, because his little brother must've called his bluff and rented another nanny and sent him to drag Connor home.

He's committed to that until Hank mentions the number of times Connor's tried to fight him on going to bed, and the grand total of zero times that Hank's lost this fight. Hank's very good at this. He's had to deal with a lot of rough families and teenagers. Hank remembers that because each family has a profile saved based on every visit: preferences, schedules, the kids' needs, memories... They've always been backed up. It's a business, after all. It takes Connor a few minutes to get it. He's still trying to decide if this android is real or not, let alone... his Hank. And Hank is perfectly willing to keep coming back to convince him. And he will, every time, for as long as Connor keeps a copy of his memories. ... But it is going to be after Connor is in bed. Connor's never been happier to get dragged away, kicking at this 1.98m cuddle-bear the whole time.