[COMPLETED] Corrupted (Connor X Reader)

Sometimes Connor disliked experiencing emotions. They made deviants dangerous. All that fear and sadness and the overwhelming sense of 'this isn't fair' led humans and androids alike to make questionable decisions.

And that's what Connor struggled with the most.

Not actually making the decisions — his analysis and probability software always provided him with enough assistance to narrow down his choices and pick which one he preferred, but dealing with the aftermath, the doubt that made him question his judgment, bothered him. Of course, hearing he'd made the right decision helped with this problem. Connor felt a similar sense of satisfaction when he completed a directive (set by himself now), but it didn't compare to hearing he'd done well from someone else.

During testing and the first couple run-ins with deviants, Amanda had provided that for him. Connor struggled through preconstructions of the various ways he could have handled the hostage situation back in August. Maybe there had been a way to save the little girl and avoid the look of betrayal from Daniel, but when Amanda praised him for completing the mission, all that doubt vanished. As he deviated further and made choices that didn't complete his mission, Amanda's praise morphed to disappointment, but Hank's approval helped him know he'd made the right choice.

Unfortunately, Hank was not being helpful right now.

"Jesus, Connor, did you really have to do that?"

"She couldn't be of any more help to us," Connor said, brow wrinkling in distaste. "Would you have preferred that we didn't drop her off?"

Hank sighed, but kept his eyes trained on the road, "That's not what I fuckin' meant. You just—you couldn't have been a bit nicer about it?"

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

A beat of silence passed. "Don't you have some social-relations program or some shit to help you integrate with humans? You didn't see how upset she was?"

"I assumed her reaction was justified. She was attacked by an android and lost an important possession."

"Ugh, fine, fuck if I know," Hank grumbled and let the subject drop. His fingers twitched around the volume control on his stereo, making the music drown out any indication that Connor should continue the conversation.

That was fine. Connor had information to process, anyway. Hank disapproved of something he did — that much was clear — but Hank seemed to be basing his judgment entirely on her expression, and not on Connor's actions. In fact, he'd even agreed that Connor made the right choice to drive her back to her apartment before they headed to the crime scene. She didn't have her computer anymore, and therefore wouldn't be able to connect with the androids or learn anything more about the virus they were investigating.

Surely she understood that.

Connor had even explained it to her as he opened the door so that she could climb out of the back seat, so why did she look upset? Until Hank spoke up, Connor assumed that the reminder of her now-useless computer was causing her unhappiness, but Hank was acting like it was Connor'sfault.

He replayed the latest memory, studying her micro-expressions and mannerisms, trying to calculate exactly what caused her distress. An uncomfortable twisting settled against Connor's biocomponents when her eyes widened, and stress levels rose in reaction to what he said in the reconstructed memory. He ran a diagnostic.

//DIAGNOSE...

//Sync In Progress...

//Processing Data...