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

Well, you can’t complain. You’re the one who said you were, uh-

[He realizes it still puts him off, this idea, that something about just saying it outright freaks him out a little, but realizes too late to avoid stumbling a little over what was meant to be a tease. He tries to cover it up with a smile that comes out more like a twitch of his lips, seen only briefly before he turns back to the road to pull into the mickey d’s parking lot.

-that you’re sticking with me, you knew what you were getting into.

[At least hearing Hank say it, as awkward and the delivery might be, seems to have the opposite effect on Connor. A small mollification, in knowing that his declaration of continually being Hank’s friend has at least stuck.]

I could say the same for you, of course.

[If Connor doesn’t get to complain, then neither do you, Hank. Once the car finds a parking spot, he waits for the other to exit before he’ll do the same.]

What about Sumo?

Sumo?

[Hank frowns at the dog, baffled, trying to find a way to connect the question to their previous conversation and not coming up with anything that makes sense.]

Pretty sure he's sticking with me too, not like he's got a choice about- Oh. You meant, uh-

[Hank points his thumb out the window, at the parking lot.]

Right.

[He gets out and opens the back door, leaning over and patting his knees encouragingly while he waits for Sumo to heft himself out and down. Hank forgot a leash when he was packing, because you should never pack when you're freaking the fuck out, but Sumo's always been pretty chill so Hank's not really worried about him getting distracted and running away.]

You know, out of the three of us, he's probably the only one who's actually not going to complain, like, at the first possible opportunity. You do complain, too, you can't tell me you don't.

[The question had meant to lead into what they were going to do about Sumo (he doubted dogs were allowed inside, and it would be prudent for someone to walk with him and let him do his thing), but Hank derails this line of thinking with talk of complaints.]

What is it you think I complain about?

[He looks vaguely skeptical and adds:]

I only make observations and offer advice based upon those same observations.

Bullshit.

[Hank’s tone is relatively friendly, despite the curse and the way he’s still focused on Sumo. He straightens, backing up to give the dog room to heft himself out of the car.]

Maybe that’s what your words say but I was married, Connor. I know a tone when I hear it.

I don’t see how my tone and your experience with marriage are at all related.

[-he says, slightly befuddled but also definitely utilizing just the barest whisper of that same tone.]

Simply because you aren’t always willing to adhere to my suggestions doesn’t categorize it as complaining.

[He walks over to the other side of the car to spot Sumo flopping out it.]

Right, Sumo?

Edited 2018-08-19 21:40 (UTC)

[Sumo gives a quiet - for him - bark and walks up to Connor, nudging Connor’s leg with that dinnerplate sized forehead of his. Hank, watching this, makes a disbelieving, amused noise.]

And now you’re using the dog against me. Shit, you learn fast. Do you just do that without thinking about it or are you fucking with me? Cause you should record yourself and play it back for me next time we argue about something, you’ll hear it. The Tone. Used by tired spouses and passive-aggressive androids as a first resort to get the last word.

[Well, that earns Sumo a pat on the head, which Connor takes the time to bend down and scritch behind his ears, before answering Hank.]

Do what without thinking?

[Unlike before, this is a legitimate question.]

And I'm not passive-aggressive; that would defeat the purpose of my design in interacting congruously with other humans. You're only hearing what you want to hear, Hank.

[Hank watches him, grimacing. Connor has this weird way of making Hank doubt himself.]

Well shit, maybe I don't know what I know after all. Congratulations Connor, you won the argument. Now go walk my dog - please - so I can go keep my stomach from eating itself.

[He starts to walk toward the building, then pauses.]

Um, what do you do for uh... for fuel? You guys don't eat, do you, should we be looking for, uh, a charger, or something?

[Argument officially won. It's okay, Hank, you'll have no room to doubt yourself again once Connor slips in another passive-aggressive comment sooner rather than later. It'll definitely happen at some point.]

I can recharge. You know the stations that people leave their androids to dock with -- the "parking" zones? They act as a secondary location to keep an android charged if need be, though the point is moot. CyberLife saw to the fact that I was running at optimal power capacity at all times.

Regardless of that, I have a core battery, for a lack of a better term. It can keep me active for many years to come without the need for locating a remote power source. So again, a moot point.

Well, that's one less thing to worry about. Okay uh, see you in a minute.

[Once the more-than-a-minute is up Hank walks out again with a bag of food, hunching his shoulders and rubbing at his hair.]

I know it'll be a while before anyone gives enough of a shit to wonder where I went but uh, I think I need a disguise too. I know you need time to work on that code stuff but maybe we should do something about me first.

[Connor had walked the perimeter with Sumo in that more-than-a-minute, though it was less a walk than it was a lazy amble. But Sumo is such a laid-back creature that he never seems to be in a hurry, and as a result, neither was he.

He comes back around just to see Hank leave the establishment.]

Would you like suggestions on how to begin?

[A question couched in politeness, as if that'll stop Connor from offering his opinion anyway.]

[Hank sits on the hood and pulls a burger out of the bag, wanting to spend time outside the car while he can.]

Well, I got to pick out yours, it's only fair if you get to pick mine.

[Here it comes:]

You should start by cutting your hair. And consider trimming down the amount of facial hair you have -- or remove the latter altogether.

[Hank stops before his next bite, putting the burger down instead and frowning at his knees.]

I know that's disguise 101, but do you think we could just uh, trim the beard, pull back the hair, uh, I don't know something... Not so clean cut?

[His brow furrows.]

We could, but it wouldn't be nearly as stark of a change. Which is, as you said, the point of a disguise.

Yeah. Yeah, I know. It's just-

[He runs a hand through his hair, grimacing at Connor. He knows he's being a baby about this, it's just-]

It wouldn't really be a disguise, I'd just be going back to looking like a cop. I mean, I used to look like that all the time.

[That didn't really come out the way he was thinking it, in his head. If he's lucky - and he's rarely is - it'll go some way toward convincing Connor anyway, even if it didn't explain what Hank wanted it to explain. Or maybe didn't want it to explain. One or the other. Or maybe both.]

[There are times in which Connor is oblivious, explanations and implications flying over his head without completely realizing it. And then there are moments where his programming is nothing short of successful; that knowing why humans act a certain way, things they prefer and what they’d wish to avoid, make perfect sense. He’s done his research on Hank, of course, and it doesn’t take long for him to understand why he’d rather not look like a younger, more successful version of himself. A life that he had lost completely, a phantom of the past.

It would be… uncomfortable. Like asking Connor to wear his uniform again, and all it represents — he could, but it would be wearing a reminder of what he no longer was, etched into his appearance.]

I… see. I won’t ask you to do something that you’re uncomfortable with.

[There are certain matters in which he will not doggedly hold onto; this is a rare case, admittedly, but Connor knows when to unclench his proverbial jaws.]

Tying your hair back and a trim should suffice for now.

Uh.

[Maybe he did get lucky after all. Or maybe - well, that pause was hard to interpret. Maybe he doesn't want to interpret it. So instead of saying 'since when' or thinking too hard about it, Hank takes a breath, straightens up a little, and tries to relax.]

...Thanks.

[He takes a moment to eat, waiting until he's been thinking about just the food for long enough that he can sound casual again.]

We'll need something to tie it back with. And clothes, probably. Or- god, I don't know, hair dye. Hey, could dye yours too, you know. We could match.

[It's kind of a lame attempt at a joke, and a lame attempt at a grin to go with it, but it's what Hank has. He'll bounce back in a second.]

[He gives him that moment to eat, letting the silence filter in between them. Slightly awkward again, but- No, Hank's relaxed a bit. He had said the right thing.]

Are you trying to make us look like we're related?

[It's also a joke in return, though hard to tell with how Connor delivers his statements.]

[Hank probably couldn't tell, because he considers it seriously. He shrugs.]

That'd make it easier to talk to people. Why else would an old guy like me be running around the country with someone like you? I mean, why else that doesn't make me look like a gross old skeezebag?

'Someone like me.'

[Hank.....he had been joking, but now here they are.]

I'm not sure that's a reasonable conclusion to jump to. [My goodness, does that make his LED spin. Look at it go.] Isn't it normal for friends to go on road trips?

[The stress on the word makes Hank snort and smile a little.]

Yeah, sure, when they're all the same age. Young and fresh and out from under anyone's thumb for the first time-

[Hank's voice goes more and more fake-cheerful until this last part, where it goes high pitched and he stuffs the last of the hamburger in his mouth, talking around it while he waves his fists in the air.]

Woooo! Spring break!

[Then he starts rolling up the top of the bag, swallowing the food and dropping the tone. Now back to your regularly scheduled Hank.]

But you and me? I don't know. You don't think people'll think it's weird?

[Sorry, but this android is Not Qualified At All to answer this question. This is a territory he only possesses very detached, empirical knowledge about.]

Do you think it's strange? I'll defer to your judgment.

I- [Would he? Does he?] Yeah. A little. And other people will too, they’ll assume we’re family. So.

[He shrugs a shoulder, studying Connor’s face and comparing it to his own.]

It would help if our hair was the same color. Not sure what to do about the rest of it - we’ll just say you got the other parts from the other side of the family.

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in which i delve into headcanon and early ass promotional material for this tag

sounds good to me

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