Allen was named after Captain Allen as a joke by Captain Jeffery Fowler. He knows this and he finds it fairly amusing.

Slouches when he’s uncomfortable or unsure especially of himself but he stands up completely straight when he does police work. Even when patrolling.

He takes notes, completely unnecessary for Android but he does it for the humans around him in the chance that he gets injured again and cannot verbally report what he knows. Like with John.

He plays with his hair when he gets nervous or increasingly stressed, red LED, and he’ll pace. By nature he is a very anxious person already typically this means his stress is about 85%. He has fairly curly hair when he doesn’t attempt to keep it neat and put together

He’ll walk, around the entire precinct if he has to just to avoid the closet he was trapped in. Sometimes he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, his body has a natural defense to just ignoring it’s even there. It’s the same with any other closet, or very small rooms without windows. He won’t label himself as claustrophobic though.

Allen does wear the old standard Android issued Police Uniform that says PC200 on the back when working. He likes his uniform, he doesn’t think it’s weird and he will want to continue to wear it if asked.

He doesn’t mind his LED most the time, which is why he keeps it in. There are moments where he wishes he could control it like Connor, especially during certain moments or at Crime Scenes.

Connor smirked a little at that, imagining the other’s face upon being called Vinny. “Perhaps I’ll call him that next time he calls me ‘toaster’” He murmurs, though he doubts it’d end well for him if he did. Connor was smart enough to pick up patterns and he’d certainly noticed that any time he had stood up to the other in the past had ended in either violence or threats.

“Unfortunately his job is indeed time-consuming.” He didn’t want to make assumptions about whether Gavin cared enough about his brother to visit, it felt like that wasn’t his call to make. “I don’t mind being here, Elijah.” If their temperature had truly been that high then he wanted to keep an eye on him though he didn’t want the other to feel like he was forcing himself to stay. “How do you pass time when sick?” It was safe to say the android was genuinely curious, given how he couldn’t get sick himself.

   ❝ They say sleep is the best medication for a cold, but that won’t work for me. ❞   He wasn’t going to sleep, that was the case obviously. He shrugged his shoulders and curled more into himself, a light tremor to his body as he felt incredibly cold. He was cold, but he also knew that was the fever talking. Sweating out what was wrong with you was just part of the healing process no matter how disgusting it was. 

“One hundred and four?” He can’t help but repeat the number in astonishment. Again, he was not built for caring for people who were sick but even he knew that was dabbling into dangerous territory. Connor wasn’t sure if he’d feel comfortable leaving him alone even if he seemed assured that a cold wouldn’t hurt him. “Did you use to have a nickname for him too?” He’d rather keep him talking, for now, he wouldn’t bring up staying or going again. 

“I assume growing up together meant if you were sick you’d take care of each other. Tell me about that.”

   ❝ Gav’. I called him Vinny once and he looked ready to strangle me with my own hair tie. I was ten and he was 9. ❞   They had a very interesting relationship back then but there was genuine love. Elijah adored Gavin from the very bottom of his heart, and nothing would have changed that. He would have given his entire world for Gavin if the other wanted it back then. Perhaps even still now. A breath fall from his lips and he rests his forehead on his knees once more, watching Connor from the corner of his eyes. 

                       Connor was DEVASTATED as soon as he found himself back in the Zen Garden. It wasn’t as cold, but it was still just as overgrown, considering he didn’t go there anymore. The fact that he was here, in his Zen Garden…it meant he’d failed. It meant he was still alive. Hadn’t killed himself fast enough, hadn’t been effective enough. And therefore still a threat to the world around him. Alone in this mind space with the knowledge of what he did, he cried, he screamed, he suffered. He didn’t want to wake up. Didn’t want to be a DANGER to anyone anymore. To Elijah anymore.

                      He was RESTARTED in a safe mode, many of his critical systems on low power so that it was a softer, more gradual reintroduction to reality. He felt dull, removed, like he was watching everything from a distance. His eyes opened and he spotted the top of another’s head. Elijah.

                      Elijah, bloody and bruised, begging him to stop, scared of him–

                      Connor JUMPED up off of the table, eyes wide as he backed away from the human and his stress started to skyrocket once more. “Why didn’t you let me die?!” he choked, out, betrayed. Elijah should have let him die. He was a danger. He needed to be NEUTRALIZED.

                      “St–Stay away from me!” he yelled, backing away and quickly analyzing what would be the easiest and fastest exit from the house. As long as he wasn’t here, Elijah wasn’t safe. “DON’T come closer!” he looked around wildly, like a cornered animal. He needed to self-destruct successfully or get out of here as soon as possible so Elijah wouldn’t be hurt.

   He was starting to think he needed a beer, or something stronger, to deal with this entire situation. Elijah was tired, in pain, and Connor moving as fast as he did to get away from him certainly wasn’t helping. He didn’t move as fast as he would have liked, his ribs protesting moving at all but with the door locked and Connor panicking to much to get around it, it didn’t take long for Elijah to reach Connor’s side. Gentle, so not to startle him, he reached his arms out and wrapped them around Connor’s waist, reaching up to place both of his palms flat over the others chest where his thirium regulator laid beneath. 

   ❝ Connor, you’re alright, I removed the program you need to take a breath. If you stress yourself out again I’m going to have to use drastic measures. ❞   He doesn’t want to keep doing this, doesn’t want to have to continue to shut Connor down and restart him back up. If he had to--he’d remove the memories. Tell him some criminal beat the shit out of him, anything to keep him stable. 

How people perceive it.

“Right.” He wasn’t sure how long that left him lying there, but he knew it had been far too long. Standing by his bedside, he grabs the medicine and glances at Elijah. He was not a household android, he wasn’t built for any of this yet he’d not hesitated to leave work to come help him. Reading the information on the bottle, he grabs a spoon and pours some of the medicine on it. “Just to make this easier, can you open your mouth please?” The RK800 waited for him to do so before spoon-feeding him it.

“I wouldn’t just let you suffer.” He replies offhandedly, unfazed by his surprise. “Have you checked your temperature at all, Elijah?” He asks, looking in the bag for anything else he could possibly offer the other. “You should get some rest. I can stay here to make sure you’re okay when you wake up, if you like.”

   ❝ It was a hundred and four whatever hours ago I called you. ❞   He picked his head up to take the medication, feeling a bit weird about being spoon fed by Connor.   ❝ You called me a nickname, Eli, Gavin used to call me that when he was little. Now he’s gotten into the habit of calling me ‘Lijah. ❞   It was probably stupid for him to be caught up in memories but sometimes things just reminded him of the good times, his brother being sick, Elijah making him box Mac and Cheese and bringing it to him. He loved him and he was sick and depressed. Elijah hated being sick. 

“No-“ He’s got his arms wrapped around the android. “No.” he repeats, clinging to the other. “No.”

@plasticdetective​: “Cease.”

The detective wished to say more - he wished to do more, he wished to find a way to reassure the other as, clearly, the android needed it. Wait, did they… did they actually need that? They were machines, after all, computers on legs, with bodies of plastic and minds made of metal. Unfeeling. Uncaring.

And yet, that wasn’t what Connor saw, it wasn’t what the android conveyed to him, through his words and actions, as he spoke out openly about the case regarding detective Williams. It almost appeared as though Allen was… mourning the loss of his partner.

Connor wanted to call out after him, but stopped himself from doing so, ultimately, heading outside the precinct, right after the android. With his cigarette finally lit and his hunger for nicotine satisfied, the detective made his way over to where the cruisers were lined up, quickly spotting the familiar shape of the android yet again. What was he even supposed to take his time with?

He got into the designated vehicle, without having to be prompted to do so. Silence lingered between him and the android for a moment, strangely heavy and uncomfortable, the air around them filled with nothing but the gentle hum of the car’s engine. That was before Connor finally decided to open his mouth and speak out what lingered on his mind.

“So…“ Well, it was a start, in any case.

   ❝ The scene you’re going to is a rather straight forward murder, a woman was very clearly angered her husband was having sex with their Android and murdered him. The evidence points to it. I’m sure you’ll solve it in under a few minutes. ❞   Since Allen solved it just by reading the report not that he could actually say that as a PC200. His job wasn’t to solve crime scenes even if John said he was good at it. 

   John. His funeral was yesterday. 

  Allen’s hands tightened against his pant legs and he turned his head to look out the window, watching the other cars and occupants pass by. He doesn’t know why Captain Fowler decided to have him repaired and returned, it seemed like it cost more to do that rather than just replace him. They didn’t even reset his memory but he remembers the CyberLife technicians asking the Captain if he wanted them to be. Would it have been better if they did? He’s not sure. He knows he doesn’t... want... to forget John. They have a lot of memories together, things he enjoys remembering. Was he even allowed to have that as an Android? 

𝙿𝙲𝟸𝟶𝟶 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙼𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙿𝚃… 𝙰𝙲𝙲𝙴𝚂𝚂 𝙲𝙾𝙳𝙴 𝙺𝙰𝙼𝚂𝙺𝙸… 𝙰𝙲𝙲𝙴𝚂𝚂 𝙶𝚁𝙰𝙽𝚃𝙴𝙳 𝚂𝙴𝙰𝚁𝙲𝙷:// 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚞𝚙𝚕𝚘𝚊𝚍.𝚎𝚡𝚎 𝙵𝙸𝙻𝙴:// 𝙹𝙾𝙷𝙽 𝙴𝚅𝙴𝚁𝙴𝚃𝚃 𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙲 𝚆𝙸𝙻𝙻𝙸𝙰𝙼𝚂

  JOHN WILLIAMS. BORN NOVEMBER 21st 1988. DIED MARCH 12th 2036 AT AGE 48.

𝙿𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺:// 𝙹𝙰𝙽𝚄𝙰𝚁𝚈 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚁𝚃𝙴𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙷 𝚃𝚆𝙾 𝚃𝙷𝙾𝚄𝚂𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚁𝚃𝚈 …𝚕𝚘𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 [□□□□□□□□□□] 𝟿𝟶% // 𝙿𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺 𝙸𝙽𝙸𝚃𝙸𝙰𝚃𝙴𝙳

  ❝ I get you find this hilarious, or you’re just having a mental breakdown from how pissed everyone is, but did you really have to name him after Allen? ❞   John gave Captain Jeffery Fowler a rather unamused look not entirely sure how Allen himself was going to take this. The man lacked–well a lot. He was rather angry most the time John spoke to him. It was amusing the first time the later ones not so much. He has a way of getting under your skin with his temper tantrums. Much like a rookie he knows. But unlike that certain rookie Allen knew when to knock it the fuck off and listen to John.

  Jeffery spared him a brief shrug and John let out a sigh, leaning back in the chair as he glanced to the side.   ❝ The PC200 huh? You really think it’s going to replace us? ❞   The look he got said no very clearly and John powered on before he could snap at him.   ❝ Come on, Androids are supposed to be stronger and better than us right? It’s a reasonable question. Even if they can’t carry right now, you never know if eventually they might be able to. Think about it, Detectives as Androids. ❞   He smiles a bit and notices the way that Jeffery presses his lips together. Clearly this was a conversation angry officers brought up when they bitched about the new ‘equipment’ as they were introduced to these Androids as.    

  ❝ I have a caretaker model at home for the baby. The PL600, named him Morgan. They’re–a lot more human seeming than you might realize. ❞   John tilted his head to the side and looked up at Allen.   ❝ Gotta admit despite your poor choices he does look like an Allen. ❞   That got him a fuck you and John stood from the chair, placing his hand on Allen’s shoulder and nudging him toward the door.   ❝ Come on Allen, I’ll show you around. ❞

  ❝ Show–me around? Detective, I have an entire map of the Precinct downloaded for ease of access– ❞

  ❝ Ah! So he does speak! ❞

  ❝ Of course I speak when spoken to. ❞

  ❝ Yup, gonna knock that right out of you. Hank! Come meet Allen! ❞

  ❝ Fuck off, John! ❞

𝙿𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺 𝙴𝙽𝙳𝙴𝙳… 𝙵𝙸𝙻𝙴:// 𝙹𝙾𝙷𝙽 𝙴𝚅𝙴𝚁𝙴𝚃𝚃 𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙲 𝚆𝙸𝙻𝙻𝙸𝙰𝙼𝚂 𝙿𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺:// 𝙰𝙿𝚁𝙸𝙻 𝟿𝚝𝚑 𝚃𝚆𝙾 𝚃𝙷𝙾𝚄𝚂𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚁𝚃𝚈 𝚃𝚆𝙾 …𝚕𝚘𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 [□□□□□□□□□□] 𝟿𝟶% // 𝙿𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺 𝙸𝙽𝙸𝚃𝙸𝙰𝚃𝙴𝙳

  ❝ How long have we been friends, Allen? ❞   The question seems to come from nowhere but given the earlier context of the conversation Allen moved into it with ease. He watched the Detective behind his desk, a pen between his fingers and the end of it pressed against his chin. He blinks a few times, tilts his head and then the automatic answer from the calculated time falls out of his lips with ease.

  ❝ Eight hundred and seventeen days, or 2 years, 2 months, 27 days. ❞   He nods his head a bit, satisfied with himself and folds his hands into his lap fingers seeming to clench together inside the fabric of his gloves.

   ❝ And how many times have I told you to lose the hat? ❞

  He feels a twitch to his lips, as if the beginnings of a smile was starting and he fought it down. A strange warning popped up on his HUD that he quickly dismissed without paying much attention to.   ❝ Over two hundred and sixteen, Detective. ❞   John’s hand reached out and caught the hat, removing it from his head in a swift motion. It was discarded onto the table and a moment later the older mans fingers sunk through his hair. He missed it back up, knocking the perfectly placed synthetic strands out of place. Allen’s hand twitched, as if wanting to bat him away, but otherwise stayed in his lap.

  ❝ There, much better. I swear you and your perfect appearance, do you and the other Androids sit around here at night and slick back each others hair? You have nice curls crushed under the ugly of that hat. ❞   Amusement, he’s amused even though he sounds frustrated, Allen doesn’t understand humans sometimes. But he does find it–what does he find it? There’s something there and Allen lightly shakes his head to dismiss whatever it was.

  ❝ I apologize, Detective. ❞

  ❝ No you’re not. And it’s John. ❞   More amusement, he’s smiling, and Allen watches as the Detective stands from his chair and pulls his coat off the back.   ❝ Hey, let’s get ready to go out, and leave the hat behind. ❞   This time he does smile, a sincere one pulling onto his lips as Allen follows behind the Detective.

  ❝ As you wish, Detective. ❞

𝙿𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺 𝙴𝙽𝙳𝙴𝙳… 𝙵𝙸𝙻𝙴:// 𝙹𝙾𝙷𝙽 𝙴𝚅𝙴𝚁𝙴𝚃𝚃 𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙲 𝚆𝙸𝙻𝙻𝙸𝙰𝙼𝚂 𝙿𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺:// 𝙵𝙴𝙱𝚁𝚄𝙰𝚁𝚈 𝟸𝙽𝙳 𝚃𝚆𝙾 𝚃𝙷𝙾𝚄𝚂𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚁𝚃𝚈 𝙵𝙸𝚅𝙴 …𝚕𝚘𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 [□□□□□□□□□□] 𝟿𝟶% // 𝙿𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺 𝙸𝙽𝙸𝚃𝙸𝙰𝚃𝙴𝙳

  ❝ So, Eric turned five today, and he’s been asking for you. ❞   There’s a kid in John’s arms, their small body completely encompassed around his fathers body. Arms locked around his fathers neck, legs hooked around the mans waist. Despite how tightly the little kid is clutching on to his father, he’s still looking at Allen like he’s the most interesting thing in the world. Eyes wide and a bright smile on his face. They’ve met before, he’s met all of John’s family, the other Officers talk about how weird it is that John got attached to a computer on legs.

  He–thinks–they’re nice people.   𝚂𝙾𝙵𝚃𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙴 𝙸𝙽𝚂𝚃𝙰𝙱𝙸𝙻𝙸𝚃𝚈.   ^

  John suddenly holds his arms out and plops the kid in Allen’s grip, his own eyes widening as he takes the child the delicate soft small human in his arms. Eric clings to him tightly, arms wound around his own neck. Allen barely registers the pressure the force the kid had barely a comparison to what his model was designed to handle from full grown adult criminals. He adjusts his hold to better accommodate the small human and then snaps his gaze up to John.

  He’s laughing, hysterically, not even attempting to hide it. Allen manages to make out the words your face between his giggles. A full grown man, giggling.

  He can feel himself smiling.

  ❝ Not sure I see parenthood in your future, Allen. ❞   Future? Sometimes, he wonders what John actually thinks he is.   ❝ But, maybe I’m wrong. Think I looked like you when I held my first kid too. That petrified feeling of doing the wrong thing. ❞   Feeling? Was he FEELING? There–there was something. The mans hand reached out and ruffled his sons hair before smiling at Allen that same smile of just pure joy.

  John was always so happy. Despite the things they saw, despite the world they experienced, he found happiness in all of it. And he knew that John tried to spread that same happiness to Allen. He was a very kind person.  

  ❝ You’ll go far in life Allen, I believe in you. You’re a good kid. ❞

  ⱧɆ ₩₳₴ ₳Ⱡ₩₳Ɏ₴ ₴Ø Ⱨ₳₱₱Ɏ ₳₦Đ ₭ł₦Đ ₮Ø ₥Ɇ.   ł ĐłĐ₦'₮ ĐɆ₴ɆⱤVɆ ł₮.

ł₮ ₩₳₴ ₥Ɏ ₣₳ɄⱠ₮.

“Naw. Not disappointing.“ the detective reassured, fishing a lighter out of his coat pocket, eager to just… get out of the office and finally light his damn cigarette, for Christ’s sake, he had not had one since breakfast-

“You haven’t done anything wrong, Allen. It wasn’t your fault. You hear me?“ he added, not quite certain HOW he found himself playing the android’s therapist, but really, now that he thought about it, he… didn’t mind all that much.

“Come ON. Don’t say that. No one is getting fucking damaged on my watch.“ A smile slipped onto his features, as he stepped closer to Allen, resting his hand on the other’s shoulder, a gentle, friendly squeeze following the statement. 

“You’ll be okay. Just stay close to me and I’ll keep you safe. A’right?” he added, a little wink offered in addition to his reassurance.

   ❝ John didn’t do anything wrong, he relied on me and I let him down. I let a father die and now his wife and kids are without a parent. That is the truth and that should be what the report reads, but doesn’t. It reads a tool malfunctioned and a Detective died because of faulty property. ❞   He reaches up and gently removes the others hand from his shoulder, not wishing to cross that line between owner and partner again when it backfired so hard on him the last time. He needed to keep this one at arms length. So if something did go wrong they wouldn’t be trusting him so much or attempting to defend him.

   He was an Android and a tool and it needed to stay that way.