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

[bleps]

((ooc; cont. from here))

[Anything happening within the walls of Hank's house is now being shattered by the blaring of the doorbell. Once, twice, a third time for a bit longer. Less an actual doorbell and more of a buzzer, a harsh thing that is sure to grab the attention of anyone possessing a heartbeat within. The very obvious sign of someone (a certain RK800 unit) at the door, hoping to find the Lieutenant at his home if he cannot be located at his usual haunts. The sort that serves alcohol, mainly.]

Lieutenant?

[The voice should ring familiar, if not slightly muffled by the obstruction before him. Connor stands waiting, straight-backed, staring at the closed door like the obstacle it is to his entry. The usual curl of hair that falls across his forehead sways in the breeze as he waits, only half-patiently.]

Lieutenant! [The downwards cant of his head, just slightly, eyes averted to the side; the look of someone listening for noise within.] Are you home?

Comments

[fuck1ngusernam3]

[Yeah, no, Hank can't hold the straight face for long - his lips start curving up a couple times at the reply - but he's putting a solid effort in, pressing the curve flat again each time it happens.]

You sure? You guys could like, get matching ones, do your hair the same way. I guarantee you that no one is gonna think a guy who's coordinating outfits with his dog is on the run from the law.

[bleps]

[Do their hair the same way? All right, Hank is definitely stringing him along now.

His tone takes on something flat.]

You’re his owner. You should be the one to wear the matching sweater, then.

[fuck1ngusernam3]

I don't know, you're the one who said you'd take care of him. What's wrong? You don't like my idea?

[bleps]

Would you like for me to list the reasons why, or would you be satisfied with a plain “no”?

[ 8| ]

[fuck1ngusernam3]

[Hank can't not laugh at that, he physically can't.]

Shit, what was it that turned you off? I thought I was really onto something.

[bleps]

If you think I can’t eventually tell when you’re being facetious, then you’re several underestimating my programming.

[fuck1ngusernam3]

No, what was it though? You got all-

[He makes a face demonstratively, pinching his expression into an exaggerated pout.]

[bleps]

[Wow? Wow.

Purposefully schools his face into “android neutral” as if to help aid him combat this statement.]

I don’t make faces that look like that. You’re exaggerating.

[fuck1ngusernam3]

[The pout dissolves into a trying-not-to-smile-as-hard-as-I-want-to type grin.]

You don't? Shit, I didn't know you had like, invisible eyes floating in front of your head, so you can see what you look like all the time. Hell that's, that's really advanced, I'm impressed, Connor.

[bleps]

[Why. Why this.

This must be what it’s like being a child teased by a parent; Connor can be as indignant as he likes, but it’ll only fuel Hank’s amusement more and more. This is obvious, given the man’s smile and what he knows of his personality.

Connor exhales through his nose, debating on saying something, before just turning his head to look at the road again.]

“Invisible eyes”. Why not just “mirror”?

[Criticizing Hank’s use of not-quite-metaphor is what he’ll do instead, yes.]

[fuck1ngusernam3]

I don't know. [Hank shrugs, feeling loose and close to relaxed enough to let Connor get away with the topic switch.] Mirror doesn't sound advanced enough. Invisible eyes are cooler. And probably better for seeing yourself pout with, you know, get a view from all sorts of different angles.

[Okay, so he's not totally going to let Connor change the subject. There's at least a little more fun to get out of that.]

[bleps]

[Hank doesn’t seem keen on dropping this subject. Who does he think he is, him?]

I realize that you’re just trying to get a reaction out of me, but it needs to be said: I don’t pout. When have you ever known me to?

[fuck1ngusernam3]

[Oh that's easy.]

Just now, when I told you you ought to get a dog makeover. What's wrong, you too good to look like Sumo?

[bleps]

No.

[Wait. Yes? His LED blinks.]

That is to say, that doesn't even make any sense. Even if I wore the same sweater as Sumo, I wouldn't look like him. What constitutes a 'dog makeover' in your mind must not have very many prerequisites.

[This is definitely a very human-android "argument".]

[fuck1ngusernam3]

I don't know, you must not of seen many dog owners. People kinda start to look like each other, you know?

[He considers, then points a finger at Connor for a second.]

I mean, look at me. You watch out. It'll happen to you.

[bleps]

[A sideways glance at the finger, then back at the road again.]

Which warning does that pertain to? That I’ll start to look like Sumo, that I’ll start to look like you, or that you already look like Sumo?

[You know, barring the fact that this is also an irrationally perceived notion that’s basically technically impossible.]

[fuck1ngusernam3]

All three.

[Hank grips the wheel again and raises his eyebrows at Connor, seemingly very serious.]

So you better get used to it now. Get a head start, give Sumo a little trim so he looks all clean cut like you, get him a little tie. There's nothing wrong with it! There's no need to get all insulted. It's just nature.

[bleps]

Nature doesn’t work that way.

[Says the android, who lives in the technology camp and not really the nature camp.

He reflects the serious tone right back.]

And I’m not insulted. I’m just [CONFUSED] uncertain why we’re talking about this when all I suggested was that we purchase Sumo a leash and a dog bowl.

[fuck1ngusernam3]

Because I'm teaching you the ways of the world, Connor. Nature's a tricky mistress, really mysterious, you never know what you're going to get. I'm just preparing you for it.

[He thinks about it for a second, then tilts his head from side to side, going on matter of factly.]

And because the idea of you and Sumo getting the same haircut is fucking hilarious.

[bleps]

[why do u hate him

Something you don’t need to be an RK800 to realize: Hank is still messing with him.]

You’re hilarious, Lieutenant.

[The sarcasm awakens from its deep slumber to rise again.]

[fuck1ngusernam3]

Hey, Sumo.

[He tilts his head toward the backseat, glancing in the rearview mirror to see Sumo raising his head.]

Sumo, shouldn't Connor be taking us more seriously?

[Hank waits a second. Sumo just looks at him.]

Sumo, bark if you agree. Sumo, bark!

[Sumo, obediently, gives a bark, watching them for a couple more seconds before putting his head back down.]

See? He'd be telling you too, if he could. It's what he wants.

[bleps]

[Connor actually turns and looks at Sumo, brow furrowed, as if he has just suffered THE DEEPEST BETRAYAL known to android kind. But then he shifts right back around to look at Hank, lips tugged into a frown.]

You can’t use Sumo against me. Especially when the basis of this argument is bordering on the ridiculous.

[fuck1ngusernam3]

Against you? For you. For your own good. You might think it's ridiculous, but it'd be great. What about disguises, anyway? I mean, we haven't really figured out those yet, and 'dog lover with pampered dog' would be a pretty good one.

[bleps]

['Dog lover with pampered dog' isn't a disguise if it's likely going to become the truth in the not so distant future, anyway.]

...People don't pamper their dogs by giving them similar haircuts.

[Stop saying ridiculous things and then pretending to be logical. Connor will not fall for it.]

[fuck1ngusernam3]

Some people do.

[Hank will teach you about true logic, Connor. Look, look at him doing it.]

Why, how would you pamper Sumo? Tell him, he wants to hear it.