finalflight | PSL; [It's bigger than us, it's bigger than everything]

Jesus, you don't let me get away with anything, do you?

[He shoves his keys in his pocket and sets his arm on the door, twisting to look at Connor while the car cools.]

Yes, I'm suggesting you stay with me. You really think I'd let you stay here with the...

[With the what, exactly? He thinks of all the department's bots standing there in a line, their perfect, blank faces staring out at nothing. It always kind of gave him the creeps. For once, he doesn't know what to call them.]

...You know. You can stare at the corner of my living room just as well as you can the station, and at least there there's no chance Reed will come around and try to start shit.

[Logically, it doesn’t matter if he stays at the station or Hank’s house. Logically, the process of waiting is the same no matter which location it is. Logically, he could at least decide to do some work, looking at code again in the wee hours of the night, at the station.

Logically. Logically.

But he finds that the station, here before them like a quiet sentinel, is a sobering sight. Unwelcoming, compared to the idea of... a sofa and a curious Saint Bernard.]

...if it isn’t an imposition, I wouldn’t mind it. I can remain as unobtrusive as possible.

Nah, none of that shit.

[That settled, Hank opens his door, leaning over to talk until Connor decides to get up and go in with him.]

None of that, like, world's most expensive mannequin stuff. If you're gonna be a guest, be a guest. Besides, uh...

It might be kind of nice, having something else going on in that house. Something else to think about. You know?

[He blinks, looking vaguely surprised. But it’s obvious that Connor sees no inherent issue with this, given his reply.]

I’ve never been a houseguest before.

[He’s certain it’s easy enough; follow what he knows about human propriety.

A hand comes out to open his own door, and with a lingering glance, he slides out and stands.]

I imagine it isn’t too difficult.

Yeah, this should be interesting.

[Hank starts making his way inside, his amusement fading. He doesn't want to bring up the case stuff again, or the Cyberlife stuff that's attached to it. Connor only just started to relax. Luckily, his stomach gives him an out.]

Ugh, I should have stopped somewhere else to eat. Now I have to get shitty breakroom food. Come on, maybe if I get in and out quick no one'll want to talk.

[Connor follows a step or two behind, but as Hank speaks, he slows his gait, stopping — thinking of something.]

Lieutenant?

Hm?

[Hank looks over his shoulder, then turns to face Connor when he realizes he's stopped.]

Yeah, what's up?

[A half-second of a pause.]

Thank you, for-

[For what? For a swath of things, for just-]

Well. Just thank you. For everything, I suppose.

[Hank looks down, taking that in.]

Don't worry about it. It's still not too late for me to screw everything up.

[Then he looks back up with a shrug and a tight, crooked smile and turns to keep heading inside.]

[At this point, Connor should maybe be used to self-deprecating comments coming from Hank. But all the same, it bothers him, and he follows him, debating on if he should comment on it.]

...Why do you say that?

[If anyone else was asking this he'd get pissed off at them for prying and, hell, that would have gone double for the android walking with him maybe just yesterday, or the day before. But now it doesn't set him off. It just feels curious.]

Experience.

[He shoves his hands in his pockets as he heads inside and looks at nothing in particular, needing to look casual. It makes him feel a little better, like they're just talking about something normal.]

What, you've even got to ask?

[And any other day, Connor would let it slide. Shuffle it back into the realm of something that Hank would not ever wish to talk about in detail, or even at all. Categorize it as something that he shouldn't bring up when they're trying to work, trying to be efficient, trying to not be overly emotional.

But today has been a strange day. A taxing one. His subroutines are already all over the place, and there's something a little less caring about... all of that right now. And so Connor comments, where he usually would not.]

Old experiences do not always inform new ones. Not if an effort is made otherwise.

Huh.

[Hank thinks that over, running a hand through his hair, looking at him.]

Optimism. Where'd you learn that?

[That gives him brief pause. He’s not certain he has an answer to it.]

Nowhere. It’s simply something I’ve thought of that makes sense, applied to everyone.

Everyone?

[He turns to grin a little at Connor and then wanders into the break room, leaning on the vending machine and trying to decide what of all the bullshit in there's heavy enough to keep his stomach from trying to shrivel up and die for a few hours.]

Now I know you haven't been a cop long.

[Connor just follows, as he is very wont to do. He stands a few paces behind Hank while the other decides what to get from the vending machine, hands clasped behind his back.

It's hard to argue around the fact that Connor's really only about 3 months old, but-]

No, but from a purely rational standpoint, you can't tell me that it doesn't apply.

From a purely observational standpoint, I can tell you that people are idiots.

[All his choices here are shitty. He chooses some random shitty snack, scans his card, and goes over to make some coffee.]

We'll take any chance to screw ourselves over, no matter how many times you give us a way out.

[Hank. Hank. You really should start eating better.

But he says nothing on the matter (this time), despite being able to fire off the entirety of the label's nutritional value to Hank if he wanted. Connor follows a step or two over to where the coffee sits waiting for them, its scent wafting in the air. He tries to formulate a response to that, even if what quantifies as his 'human experience' is very limited at best.]

...Those who have a habit to lean towards self-sabotaging behaviors usually means that there's a larger, underlying issue causing such tendencies.

[That's what his negotiation and interrogation modules tell him, at least; generalized statements painting the whole of human behavioral patterns with a broad stroke.]

[Hank opens his mouth to reply, closes it, then looks back down to watch himself peel off the top of the second cup of creamer. The fact that he is one of the people they're talking about is more obvious than ever just now and he sighs, mostly just grateful Connor's allowing their talk to stay general, for the moment.]

That doesn't prove me wrong. The world is the way it is, there's more than enough underlying issues to go around for everybody.

[Maybe so. Maybe one needs to only look at the news to see the various modes of violence, discontent, and spark for change in their current society -- and that's not even taking the issue of deviants (and Markus' continuous protests backing a supposed android revolution) into account.

And again, Connor is truly at a disadvantage when it comes to this particular conversation. He can't change the fact that Hank can speak from experience, where he cannot.]

No. But...

[But. But what? His LED circles, flickers.]

That's pessimistic. [If Hank called him optimistic, it's only fair that he volleys something similar back.]

[Hank breathes out a laugh, then leans back against the counter to try his coffee. It's drinkable; for office coffee that's probably as good as it's going to get.]

Tell me something I don't know.

[Normally he might leave it at that. But today... Well, whatever. Right now maybe he's just feeling generous.]

It's just...

[He crosses his arms over his chest.]

There's a reason old guys like me got a reputation for thinking that way. The more you see... Eh, it just gets harder not to think that way. Maybe you guys are different; no negative bias in your longterm pattern analysis, or whatever. But that's how humans are.

[He wonders if that's true, immediately doubting it. As he's said so many times before, he was designed to be a learning machine; picking up biases was all a part of learning, to know what will be dangerous ~~though apparently that only works half the time~~ and what isn't. What's worth taking the risk for, what he should back away from.

And yet Hank means it in a much deeper, much more ingrained way. Something that time itself has not allotted him yet, if he possesses the ability to become... jaded.]

And yet you still work with the police, a job that perpetuates this mindset perhaps more than most. If that's how you feel, then why?

[Hank takes a second to open up the food and start in on it before he answers. He's not ignoring Connor. He's thinking.]

A couple different reasons, I guess. I spent this long as a cop - at this point, who else is gonna take me. But also I guess, uh...

[He thinks about Connor. About what Hank's trying to do for him. Just one thing. That would be alright, wouldn't it? Just... doing one good thing. Hank's voice goes a little quiet.]

If I can tip the scales the other way, just a little bit, just once... I don't know, I'm already stuck here, so I guess that'd be worth sticking around for.

Besides, can you imagine me - I don't know, painting people's kittens, or whatever? There's only so much I know how to do.

[This is more than he usually gets from Hank. But it's been an off day for the both of them, and Connor turns over his reply in his head, again and again.]

Still wanting to do good even in a world that appears to fight against it? [Interesting. His fingers flex a little, still clasped behind his back.]

You're a good man, Lieutenant. I just sometimes believe it's a shame that you aren't always able to see it. [A beat.] You're right, though; you'd likely make for a terrible artist.

[Hank looks down at his coffee at that, the most awkward and indefensible of compliments, obviously uncomfortable, obviously not knowing how to react to it. Thank god Connor throws in a little dig at him at the end there; maybe he really is learning. His uncomfortable look twitches into a little smirk.]

Come on, I wouldn't go that far. Back in the day, my dickbutt graffiti was fucking legendary.

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