? ? ? ? ? ????? ? ? |Connor x Reader|Detroit:Become Human|

? ? ? ? ? ????? ? ?????

He never looks down doing nothing. Connor is simply not like that.

His head moved up as you approached, turning towards you and you noticed his hands had that coin you gave him months ago. Must've been fiddling with it. It seems so long ago, the first time you gave him that. Connor giving you that confused pout when you handed it to him, you smiling gently at him.

Where has the time gone, Connor?

Brown chocolate eyes blinked at you, head tilting with LED yellow as he stood up from his chair, coin back in pocket.

"Doctor (Y/N)? I—we weren't expecting you. What are you doing here? Does this have something to do with CyberLife?" He asked, curious. But you spotted something in his tone. Something that shouldn't have been there. Never.

Fear.

You swallowed, holding back from bringing him into your arms and whispering comforting words into his ears. You miss holding him. It kills you each time that you must hold back from touching him too familiarly, afraid of what CyberLife could do or might say. You just want to hug him tightly, to take him far, far away from here. Far from this place that is forcing Connor to make choices that aren't even controlled by him.

You forced a smile on your face, Connor glancing at it for a moment before moving back up to your eyes, LED still yellow.

"Hi, Connor. I'm here to see if everything is alright, for myself. I'm not here on behalf of CyberLife." Your perceptive eyes noticed that Connor's shoulder relaxed just a pinch. No one else would've caught it, but you did. You always pay attention to Connor after all. "I saw the news and, well, it sounded like there was some trouble. . .?"

You weren't lying, not really. The news did cover there was a shootout on the roof of Stratford Tower, a stray Android that was left behind by the original group. But that wasn't the reason you were here. Your readings from the nanobot inside him deeply disturbed you, everything too high and you can tell from looking at him right now that something was bothering him. His face looked too pinched for your liking, and brown eyes that are usually wide or focused look faraway. His LED was still yellow too.

"I. . . see." He said, needlessly fixing the cuffs of his jacket and you wonder if he actually sees anything at all. "The situation at Stratford Tower was handled accordingly. There was a—a deviant up on the roof. Wounded. Once we found it hiding in a bin, it started shooting wildly and managed to catch me on my right shoulder." Your eyes glanced at where he said, there was still blue blood and a hole in his jacket. Why didn't he contact you that he needed repairs? You frowned. Good thing you brought a few biocomponents in your bag. And clothes.

"A shootout then occurred," he continued summarizing, "but I was afraid that the soldiers would terminate the deviant and therefore not be able find valuable information that it would have. So I—I—"

"Hey, Connor! I'm back, sorry I took so long, fuckin' coffee machine was going haywire on me so—who the hell is this?" A haggard man with grey hair reaching his chin walked towards them with face contorted to a frown, a cup of coffee in hand. This was the Lieutenant. "Were you telling a civilian information about our case? You know we can't— what are you doing?"

As he was talking, you put your bag and ID down, walked towards him and grabbed his coffee cup and put it down on the desk that was next to them.