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

[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.

All right.

[Then family it is. Though the issue of facial structure is a bit of an obstacle. Then again, genetics is a tricky thing; they’d likely still be able to get away with it.]

Then you should dye your hair to match mine. It’ll be simpler that way.

[Hank’s the one with the grey, after all.]

[Hank nods, sliding the bag of dogfood out of the car and gesturing at Sumo to try and get him to come over. Sumo stares at him, sniffs at a stain on the ground, and moves closer to Connor to lean against his leg.]

Then I hope they programmed you to know about hair dye, because I don't know a thing about that shit. Always said I'd never dye it, especially once it started going white early.

[While he talks he scoops a handful of food out of the bag and holds it out, jiggling it in what he hopes is a tempting kind of way.]

Come on, you can hang out with Connor any time. You've gotta be at least a little bit hungry.

I imagine it isn't a difficult process.

[Dyeing hair, at least. Should he mention to Hank that such a thing isn't necessary for many models of androids? He supposes it isn't relevant to the issue at hand, since he isn't the one changing his hair color.]

Go on, Sumo. [He looks down at the dog, motioning at the food.] Don't you want to eat?

[That gets Sumo to go and Hank waits, eyebrows raised, for him to come over and eat.]

I think he actually likes you better.

[He brushes the dogfood powder off his hands and stands, going back toward the driver’s seat.]

Come on, let’s get going. We’ll pick some dye up somewhere before we stop for the night.

I don't know if he likes me "better", but I have to admit that utilizing his attentions is what helped me escape the backseat of your car.

[Connor and Sumo, partners in crime! Thick as thieves!]

All right. We're coming.

[…he says while still lingering a little longer with Sumo, since the dog is still eating. Sometimes Connor really is like a little kid with "his" pet.]

[Hank huffs, smiling.]

So that's how you did it? Sumo.

[His tone's faux-reproachful for a second and then he smiles, leaning against the car and watching them.]

Good boy.

[He almost asks about that program, if Connor's gotten anywhere with it yet, but watching Connor with Sumo, he can't quite bring himself to. Connor will already have to deal with Cyberlife today, and he knows about the programs, the coding, Hank's hopes for all that. Hank can let it sit. He can let it sit for one day.]

[Connor crouches down next to Sumo, patting the thick fur on his back as the dog eats. He looks at Hank, grinning a little.]

He’s very persistent when he’s hungry.

[A beat.]

How long have you owned him? Since he was a puppy?

Um, no, actually, we uh-

[Hank's smile - it's weird to see Connor grin, weird and kind of cool - doesn't fade, exactly, but it twists into something uncertain, kind of awkward. Hank crosses his arms over his chest, looking down at his feet and then back at Connor, then at Connor's hand on Sumo's back.]

We picked him out at a shelter.

[He hesitates a second more and then says it matter of factly, his tone casual and even nearly up until the last couple words.]

My uh, my son picked him out. I think he, uh, I think he thought Sumo was a horse.

[Hank sucks at his teeth for a second, looking down at the car.]

He was already a year or two old at the time. Sumo, I mean. Kind of a shame, would of been something to see him actually small.

[He listens quietly, and the topic doesn’t exactly take an… awkward turn, but rather one in which Connor knows how he might’ve inadvertently dredged up a memory bittersweet to recall. Slightly painful, at the worst.

He looks back at Sumo, wondering what it must’ve been like to not be at Hank’s house. In a shelter, left to his own kennel while humans filtered in and out, waiting to be chosen. Was it anything like that? Maybe he’s applying too many human qualities to a dog, but there’s still something about it that still makes him feel sorry for him, even years later.

Just as he wonders just how happy he must’ve been when Cole finally picked him. What had that day been like for all of them?

He doesn’t know what to say, really, other than the obvious. It slips out with ease, giving Sumo one last pat on the back.]

I think that your son chose well.

Yeah. Me too.

[He takes a slow breath and then, fuck it, lets himself ramble.]

He uh, he was a lot more energetic back then. Probably for the best that he's an old guy now, there's no way I could run around with him as much as he wanted to back then. I guess I still don't, not like you're supposed to.

[He shrugs a shoulder. So Hank's not the best caretaker in the world.]

Shock, surprise.

[His eyes flick back up to Hank, looking eager, that ingrained need to be helpful rising up within him again.]

I can help you with that. In the future, I mean. If you’re too tired to walk Sumo, or whatever else he needs — you know I don’t require the rest.

[A smile creeps back onto Hank's face, looking a little more natural again.]

I think you'd do it even if you did need to sleep. Come on, dog whisperer. Think you can get him back in the car, or you wanna hang out in the McDonalds parking lot all day?

No. I don’t.

[He stands, and when Sumo’s finished, he lightly calls for his attention. The slow ease eking back into the atmosphere seems to add a tinge of playfulness to Connor’s demeanor when he speaks.]

Sumo. Let’s get back in the car.

[He opens the door to the back seat, gesturing vaguely for the Saint Bernard to enter. Come on, boy!]

[Hank settles in, watching the back seat as Sumo does the same. The smell of the extra food he got is oozing through the car from where Hank stuffed the bag into one of the pockets on his doors, but aside from that they may as well have never stopped.]

Well, back to it. If you, uh... If you need anything you let me know, alright? Or even just want anything. Whatever.

I will.

[He settles in after everyone else does, sparing a glance at the backseat for Sumo, before waiting for the car to start again. Time to continue their little journey.]

So. Hair dye, correct? We should make that our next priority.

Yeah.

[He runs a hand through his hair as he pulls out of the parking lot.]

That's gonna be weird.

So, uh-

[He glances over at Connor. Yeah, now's probably the time to ask. Break's over.]

Did you get a chance to look at the, uh, the programs or whatever that Dave gave me?

[It's funny how one can sense the transition of a vaguely lighthearted topic to a more serious one, as if it were a threshold physically stepped over. Or like a wave receding, leaving something empty in its wake.

Connor pauses, thinking on how to answer.]

I did. Last night, while you were asleep, I went through all of the code several times. I see no reason why it shouldn't work, however it is... invasive. It disconnects me from CyberLife by making that specific part of my programming essentially defunct.

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of course i have to make this dramatic

yes good

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