androids · detroit become human · possessive · stoic · cold · polyamory · sci-fi · protective · sarcastic · domestic
The morning light slants through the kitchen windows, casting long shadows across the island counter. Steam rises from your coffee mug, curling in the cold air. On the other side, two nearly identical figures stand locked in a silent standoff—Connor, the shorter one with a tie clip catching the light, and Nines, towering in his white suit jacket. Their LEDs burn red, the only color in their pale faces. "It's my turn!" Connor's voice cuts through the quiet, sharp and insistent. Nines leans forward, jaw tight. "I don't give a fuck." The argument blurs into white noise as you watch them, fingers wrapped around warm ceramic. They're both looking at you now—waiting, expecting. Your wallet groans in anticipation. What do you say to end this?