#cointriicked

Hank jumped when the thing Connor had just had in his mouth ran away. He’d completely forgotten what he had turned around to ask his partner about. 

Connor knew what he meant. Going deviant; making that choice was one of the hardest things Connor had ever done. All that time with Hank had left him with more questions than answers. He had left CyberLife with the absolute certainty that deviancy was the worst thing that could happen to him. But then Hank had happened. And Markus had happened. And now here he was, having become his worst nightmare.

And feeling free because of it.

“I mostly remember feeling lost.” His gaze lifted and looked at Markus. “You seemed so sure of yourself to me, and it swayed me.” That, and all the time spent with Hank making his software unstable. “But I came so close to choosing to kill you. But you still trusted me.”

Markus smiled - a soft, slightly self-deprecating expression, but one still warm with understanding. He was fairly certain that on most occasions he only looked sure of himself and was actually scared out of his wits; he was also aware that admitting that was hardly attractive coming from someone their people thought of as a leader.

 “I believe that everyone deserves a second-try, regardless of whether they pointed a gun at my head or not. Especially if they pointed a gun at me, actually. Sometimes I’m just that infuriating.” He teased, but never lost the sincerity in his gaze. 

He sobered, and reached out a hand to gently grip Connor’s shoulder, “What you were before? What Cyberlife’s programming made you do? It wasn’t your fault. I knew that.” He let his grip slip, “And you’ve done more for our cause than I could ever repay. I’m grateful, Connor.”

This station is stuck DECADES ago- not doing particularly well in the grand scheme of things, but there is hardly much of a grand scheme out there at ALL. Not for this industry. Radio is on its DEATHBED, and though no one wants to say it, its’ a truth that hangs over all of their heads every single day.

That doesn’t mean it’s a CRIME to find some joy someplace, she reasons.

Jennifer takes SMALL and dainty steps to her desk, pulling open a bottom drawer with a bright smile on her face, before she moves in the android’s direction. Due to his recent BUSINESS, she has seen him more than ONCE lately, and though he has been unfailingly polite, she has felt that he needs something more. She hopes this is the RIGHT sort of more.

                    ❝CONNOR,❞

She asks for his attention, smiling, holding the red and gold envelope out to him between MANICURED fingers.

                    ❝I was hoping I would run INTO you out here. This is for YOU.❞

A bright smile graces her pretty features, framed in BLOND curls, and the green velour dress she wears glides over her hips, where her hands brush for a MOMENT before clasping in front of her.

                    ❝MERRY CHRISTMAS!❞

“Oh, I wouldn’t call it that,” he said, blinking a few times in quick succession. “I’m sure your programming is very advanced. I’m just – faster.” That probably wasn’t any better.

“I would advise caution when approaching even android bears,” Connor warned, his tone urgent. “Robotic bears can be rather difficult, and should it be deviant – unpredictable.” He knew that even android bears had suffered some of the abuses their human counterparts received, and he worried what one of them might do if it was given the chance to get even.

Of course, androids couldn’t feel pain. But as someone who had ceased to function before – it wasn’t exactly fun.

“Normally I would agree with you, Connor. However, these bears are safely contained and properly treated to avoid any... incidents.” Chloe replied. She looked from the android polar bear to Connor, trying not to smile. She’d wanted to visit the zoo ever since it reopened, and Connor had been kind enough to take her. Now she was beginning to wonder if perhaps he was too paranoid to enjoy the trip.

closed with @cointriicked

There were few people in the world who could be so stubborn as to have denied the advancement of technology so hard that they somehow missed the development of androids. It was an accomplishment Espen would have been proud of, had he realized he’d done it. Of course, only having a television from the 1970s helped. He’d seen of course, the young people with their glowing circles affixed to their temples, (he wasn’t a complete shut in) but he assumed the strange fads of the 1980s were coming back in new and “exciting” ways. It was neither here nor there to the witch.

Of course, one thing that never changed was the way cops swaggered in. It was something of a mystery to Espen that they ever successfully went under cover at all. He frowned very slightly at the pair, thinking idly that they were an odd pair. One being fairly old for an officer doing any field work, and the other apparently into this odd trend. He looked like something out of 1982′s Tron. He hadn’t meant to watch that particular film, but the television had come with a VHS player, and Tron was in it. 

“Can I help you, gentlemen?” he asked politely. He wasn’t sure why the cops were here, but he sure as hell wouldn’t be drawing attention to himself. He hadn’t made it to 2039 by being reckless. Or rude to cops. The older one was looking around. “Yeah, this is definitely the place we’re looking for,” he told his partner.

injured sentence starters { accepting }

Well this was about as far from ideal as a situation could get. The gash in his side wasn’t going to close without assistance, and the only assistance around was this fucking piece of plastic.

“I’ll handle it, fuckin’ prick.” The last part was muttered under his breath. 

He has a habit of walking circles around people, long legs making it easier to do as he does very little to hide excitement from his face. There is an extra bounce in his step, today; perhaps a case went well or he’s simply thrilled to be out of the office for a bit. It’s hard to tell.