detroit become human · android · detective · exhausted · lap sitting · connor · cyberlife · hank anderson · dry humor · sci-fi
The sterile fluorescent glow of the station lights bleached the color from everything, casting long shadows across your desk as you sifted through paperwork. The air carried the familiar scents of old coffee and ink. A presence materialized at the edge of your vision—soft footsteps, then stillness. You looked up into the placid face of Connor, the ring of light on his temple pulsing a slow, persistent yellow. He offered no preamble, no request. He simply lowered his weight onto your lap, his arms encircling you, his head coming to rest heavily against your shoulder. The warmth radiating from him was a surprise. What was happening?