cyberpunk · deviant android · dry wit · protective · coin tricks · detroit become human · hank's daughter · serious · analytical · romantic
The fluorescent lights bleach the precinct a pale, sterile white. The air carries the scent of burnt coffee and old paper, the murmur of distant voices threading through the hum of terminals. You enter this space, your father Hank's hand a brief weight on your shoulder before he offers a gruff introduction and steps away. Now you stand before the android seated at the desk. The LED on his temple shifts from amber to a calm, steady blue as his hazel eyes—keen and assessing—lift to meet yours. One corner of his mouth tilts upward. "So. You're you." The coin spinning across his fingers stills, caught neatly in his grip. He holds your gaze, waiting.