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God damn it, his grip is TIGHT and no matter how much Connor tries to grasp at Colin’s wrist to make him LET GO - it is futile. He even tries to dig nails into his skin (something that is futile too since Colin can’t feel pain.)

“Let me go, Colin!” He exclaims, frustration settling in. He doesn’t appreciate being DRAGGED outside and to God knows where. 

When he’s finally let go, his eyes land on the dog and her puppies. Just like that his WHOLE ATTITUDE SHIFTS. Eyes light up and a bright grin spreads across Connor’s lips.

“You dragged me by my hair because of dogs? You could have just told me there were dogs out here.” Despite his words, he moves over to the blanket and sits down next to the puppies, laughing as they come over to him to lick at him. “I want to keep them all.”

“You instructed me to leave you alone, so I estimated the best course of action to assure you saw them was to make you see them.” He shifted slightly, watching the other sit with the dogs, the smallest hint of a smile flickering  across his lips as he lent against the wall with his arms crossed.

The intention behind the yank had been to MOVE the other over, and he still fully intended to to so and simply grips him harder and DRAGS him away from the desk and towards the doors of the station.

“No. There’s something that you need to see.” And with that they’re out the doors and heading down an alleyway, his grip still ironclad in the others chocolate brown hair. Eventually he stopped, his gaze trained on a dog he’d made comfortable on a blanket with her seven pups.

He’s NEVER seen Colin like this before. He’s never seen him in such an UNSTABLE state. He’s always been the more put together one of the pair - for the tables to be turned? IT’S ODD. Connor finds he doesn’t like it.

But his feelings on this isn’t important right now.

An arm wraps around RK900′s waist so that he can help support him. He moves CAREFULLY towards the bathroom where he would gently sit him down on the toilet so that he can move to the tub to turn on the water.

“Get undressed.” Those clothes need to be washed and Colin needed a FULL SHOWER to get all that blood off of him.

He knows for a fact that he’s HEAVY, there's nothing lightweight about his model, so he does his best to keep at least some of that off of connor, not wanting to OVERLOAD him. The last thing either of them needed right now was more problems, they had plenty on their plates as it was.

He takes slow steps as they make their way into the bathroom, grateful when the trip had come to an end and settling heavily on the toilet, taking a moment to process the orders before nodding and moving to remove his clothing and put it onto the bathroom counter.

The splatter of blood onto the floor makes Connor take a step back. He’ll have to clean that up too but right now it goes ignored. Colin tells him he is calm and it makes Connor narrow his eyes at him because they BOTH know he’s lying.

“No, you aren’t.” Blunt, there’s no point in trying to sugarcoat things. There was something VERY WRONG - he needed to proceed with CAUTION. Should he take him to Kamski? Like hell was he taking him back to Cyberlife.

As soon as Colin is swaying, Connor reaches out to gently grip ahold of him so that he can STEADY HIM. “Can you make it to the bathroom?” That seemed like the best place to be so that he could help clean RK900 up and not have to worry about carrying water to where they were currently.

“Wh--- what’s the phrase?” He squinted, LED spinning as he thought, “F-- fake it t-- till you m-- m-- make it.” He’d figured it was worth a try at least, after all the emulation of behavior was how he managed to fit into human society, even if it WAS only simi successful.

The touch causes him to FLENCH this time, a quiet whimper escaping through parted lips, foreign to his own ears. He licked his lips, tasting his own blood but ignoring it as excess data, “I s--- should be able to. Y-- yes.” Not without help though, and thats why hes reaching over to wrap an arm around Connors shoulders, leaning on him for support, he’d lose balance otherwise.

Checking the cameras sounds like a good idea but right now? Right now Connor is not worried about the damn cameras. Right now he’s worried about Colin. Whatever happened could wait until Colin was CALM.

And maybe that’s a little emotionless on his part for whoever Colin had no doubt SLAUGHTERED - but Colin was more important to him. “We will but first I need you to calm down.”

Get Colin calm and cleaned up, that was the priority here. The last thing they needed was someone walking in on them and Colin STILL being covered in blood. “And we need to get all this blood off of you.”

He felt so SICK. There really wasn’t any other way to describe it. He pulled away from connor, needing to get away from the feeling of his fingers pressed into his skin, and so that he could avoid getting the new flow of Thirium that came from his mouth wouldn’t  splatter onto his clothing, and would get onto the floor instead.

“I a--am calm.” A bold faced lie, if he needed to breathe then he’d be panting, but as it stood his skin was slightly flushed blue, something was WRONG with him, and yet he wasn’t getting a internal reading from his eyescreen, it just didn’t make any since.

The way he’s shaking doesn’t go unnoticed by Connor. It’s very rare that Colin allows himself to be VULNERABLE like this. The admission that he doesn’t know is CONCERNING.

Was his memory bank corrupted?

Connor crosses the distance between the two of them, SLOWLY  reaching out to take the knife away from his reach (he doesn’t know what’s going on - this could be a virus for all he knows). He tosses it across the room, ignoring the way it carelessly clatters to the floor.

He then brings his hand up to grip RK900′s face so that he can force him to look at him. His grip is firm but he’s CAREFUL not to cause further injury, even if he wouldn’t be able to feel it. “It’s okay, Colin. We’ll figure this out.”

He lets Connor approach him, and barely notices the sound the knife makes as it clatters to the floor, his mind was STATIC, like  white noise on and old tv. The sensory data he was taking in was MINIMAL and SLOW.

It takes him about a minute to even realize that his face had been grabbed, and another thirty seconds are so to piece together what had been said, it felt like everything was in slow motion. He stares at Connor blankly, blue eyes CONFUSED and undeniably vulnerable.  

HE FELT PHYSICALLY ILL AND HE WAS VISIBLY SHAKING, as it stood, even if you were to put a gun to his head and DEMAND that he recall the events of the last few minutes he wouldn’t be able to do it, and that VEXED him.

He stepped forward, hunching over a counter and placed both of his palms on the countertop, the knife in his left clattering away from him, lips parted ever so slightly, only for a trail of BLUE to pour from the opening and splatter down onto the counter top, WHAT THE HELL HAD HAPPENED? 

Connor HESITATES before he’s moving closer, scooting closer to him so that he can tentatively lay his head against the other android’s shoulder. If Colin doesn’t want that, the worst he can do is just SHOVE HIM OFF.

In fact, Connor FULLY EXPECTS such a thing to happen. He doesn’t expect him to allow him to lay his head against him. But FOR A MOMENT, Connor can enjoy it. Brown eyes flutter shut and for a moment he’s silent before he’s muttering his next word. “Yes.”

He STILLS as he’s lent against, head turning slightly and eyes flickering downwards to watch him, ‘humans, and apparently deviants, seek comfort from others when they are in distress’ a helpful ping across his eyescreen, this wasn’t what he was FOR and yet he found himself ALLOWING  it.

All these damn CONFLICTING signals. Why was it that no one could ever say PRECISELY what it was that they meant? Was it really so hard to practice PRECISION in speech? He hadn’t had any trouble with it so far, so why did it seem to be such a difficult thing for EVERYONE around him to grasp.

SO HE WANTED HIM TO STAY? But what if that was also not actually what he wanted.. It left one to wonder, and created confusion in his pattern seeking software, meant to help him both with his work and with his EMULATION into human society.  He stood for a long moment before taking an almost UNCERTAIN step into the room and gently lowered himself onto the floor, sitting beside him cautiously. 

He could only really HALF understand it. He’d failed his mission, and while that certainly wasn’t cause for celebration tears seemed a bit much. Parents, he could understand having an attachment to the child that had been lost, they were evolutionarily programmed to CARE for their offspring until they reached maturity and could create their own, and so on and so forth, and a death brought an END to such a cycle prematurely.

But it didn’t really, CLICK with him why that would affect anyone else, and another robot to an even lesser extent. He stood quietly, arms crossed over his chest, and WEIGHT pressed into the side of the door frame, something of a PERPLEXED expression etched into his features.