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

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

((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?

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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.

['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.]

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.

[No. This isn't real logic. He denies it!]

I wouldn't give him my haircut, to start.

[But, maybe because it’s simply Sumo and this requires an actual answer, Connor does give a better answer.]

Let him sleep wherever he likes; on the bed or couch. Maybe buy him an oversized dog bed for himself. Bathe him frequently to keep his coat healthy. Pet him and speak to him often. Play with him.

[Hank tries for a few seconds to keep his smile from going all soft and squishy, and can't really do it. He can still talk, at least, like he's not honestly touched.]

Well, that's just taking good care of him. Pampering's stuff you do every now and then, going above and beyond like, giving him a spa day. You're telling me you wouldn't even take Sumo out to get a little pedicure?

If it's done for Sumo's benefit, I suppose I would consider anything that would “spoil” him, so to speak.

[He really would. Connor truly does have the potential to be one of Those dog people, and Hank better be prepared for it.

Though it does beg the question of-]

Don’t you pamper him sometimes?

I, uh-

[Shit, there's a question. Hank sighs, grimacing out at the road and thinking about how to explain. This is Connor, so Hank's not going to get defensive about it. This is Connor who's seen Hank, sometimes when Hank hadn't really wanted him to, so Hank might as well risk being honest.]

Ah, I'm doing good if I can just get out the door and get to work, you know, so I don't uh, I don't really get him out much. And he's an old guy anyway, so uh-

[Nope. Stop. No excuses. You were going to be honest, Hank.]

But it's good that you like him, anyway, young guy with a lotta energy, that's probably just what he needs.

[He isn’t sure what answer he expected, but he isn’t surprised by this one. Connor knows that Hank can barely take care of himself on some days, so maybe the expectation that Sumo was pampered was an unreal one the moment it formed in his mind. He spares a glance back at the dog, who’s merely resting in the backseat quietly, and feels a sense of melancholy. He’s not in bad health, of course, and it’s obvious that Hank cares for him. But maybe this venture out into the world, this cobbled-together roadtrip, will be full of as many new experiences for Sumo as it is for Connor.]

Of course I like him.

[He returns his attention back to Hank.] I was telling you the truth that day, when I said I liked dogs. And I wasn’t lying, either, when I said that I’m willing to take care of him. Don’t you worry, Lieutenant.

[Hank glances at Connor when he tells him not to worry, then looks back to the road. It feels good, hearing that, like... relief. If anything happens to Hank, if Hank fucks up too bad- Well, it's good, that this poor dog's life's not all on him anymore. For a second, his voice comes out quiet.]

Thanks.

So uh, this mean you're gonna try to give him a bath the next time we stop? Have you ever tried to wash a big dog?

[It's a tone of Hank's that is welcome, for a change. He thinks he can hear something more than just gratitude shaped in the syllables of that thanks. But no need to remark on it, only to reply to the quesiton.]

No. I've never washed a dog in general. Though I imagine the application is the same as washing smaller dogs, only requiring more effort.

Well, he always used to be pretty cool with it, so you're probably better off washing him than one of those tiny yappy dogs. But water and shampoo's probably gonna get everywhere, Connor. I'm gonna be honest, you're probably going to end up with a new hairstyle whether you want one or not.

I'm sure I'll be fine.

[Famous last words. Hank better remember this declaration to engrave upon his android tombstone.]

I don't mind a little water.

[He is of the inclination to just stand in the rain, sometimes.]

Ha.

[Yeah, he's gonna let Connor figure that one out for himself.]

Just make sure I'm there when you wash him for the first time, okay? That's something I want to see.

I guess this means we're gonna have to stop at an actual hotel though, Sumo's a tough dog but the whole bathing in nature thing's probably a little much right now.

Of course. You can even help, if you want.

[It'll be Connor and Hank vs. Sumo. A disaster in the making, probably.]

We'll have to find a hotel that doesn't have an issue with pets. Likely will just have to pay more because of it, but it shouldn't be that big of an issue. Besides, it'll be a nice change of pace.

Huh. Yeah, I guess we could tell them we've got a dog too, might be less likely to kick us out that way.

[He'd just sort of assumed they'd be sneaking Sumo in. But you know what? Going by the rules, that's also fine.]

Could take longer, though. We might have to get back on the highway, pick some actual city to look around in. You okay with taking that kind of risk this soon?

[Connor doesn't think the effort of trying to sneak in a St. Bernard is a very viable option -- at least hardly worth the effort, when they could just do it the legit way.]

We can't avoid a big city forever. And... [His lips thin as they once again transition into cautious, more serious conversation.] The program, I want to run it by the end of today. Tonight at the latest. It won't matter if we're in a city or otherwise if CyberLife just comes figuratively knocking at my door.

[Hank frowns. He doesn't understand the danger here, not completely, not like Connor does. That's what he gets, isn't it, for spending so much of his life trying so hard not to learn a thing about all this new tech shit. In any case, that means it's probably for the best if Connor's the one to plan out their tactics, here.]

So if they do, what do you want me to do? You zone pretty hard when they uh, connect with you, right? So you won't be able to tell me what's going on. If that starts up you want me to just, I don't know, pick you up and drive off, or...?

[He shakes his head. As far as Connor knows, there’s not a lot that Hank could do — physically moving him from one spot to another wouldn’t do much about the fact that he was still connected to CyberLife until further notice.]

I think it would be better if you left me alone and let me... handle it.

Yeah. Okay. I can do that.

[Hank takes a breath, staring out at the road. He feels like a silence will get awkward again - at least, on his part it will - so he goes on with the first observation that pops up in his head.]

It's always shitty, the waiting. Not that I've been in this kind of situation before, but just in general, when you know something's gonna go down. Waiting to know.

[And that doesn’t require much thought for Connor to reply to. He agrees, quite wholeheartedly.]

Right. I agree.

[He’s always felt that anxiety, he thinks, though never quite as prevalent as now — or maybe it always had been, except before he had thought of himself as nothing more than a machine, hot off the presses from CyberLife those months back, using his coin as an excuse to focus and push through building uncertainty.

Strange how time and circumstance always grants a new perspective on everything.]

One way or another, though… I don’t think we’ll have to be waiting for long.

Oh that’s comforting.

[Hank’s willing to let that sit, though. Not like there’s anything either of them can do about it. He does think about asking if Connor wants to sit in the back with Sumo, but stops himself. Connor’s a big boy. If he wants to stress hug a big fluffy dog, he’ll decide to do it himself. The only thing to do is drive and wait.

He heads toward the highway, and he waits.]

[No, not comforting, but certainly realistic.

But Connor says nothing else for now, not as they drift along the highway, until signs of civilization slowly begin to rise again in the distance.]

Looks like we could do some shopping around here. [-he finally pipes up.]

Yeah. Let’s see, which way...

[Hank mutters to himself as he tries to figure out how to get there, and eventually they pull in to some big store.]

We might as well get food too, so we can lay low after tonight, if we need to. Soup or some shit, I don’t know.

[More soup. Connor can’t help but raise a brow at Hank a little, even as he reaches to open the door to exit the car.]

Maybe something a little more substantial than soup, Lieutenant.

[EAT REAL FOOD...]

What, like a four course meal? How many of those you think we can fit in the trunk?

[Hank can eat real food. He’s great at real food. He ate a real greasepile of Chinese takeout the other day, and it wasn’t imaginary or anything.]

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