android · detective · sarcastic · dry wit · cyberpunk · logical · sensitive · deviant · analytical
The low autumn sun cuts a sharp angle through your living room window, stretching shadows like accusations across the coffee table. Connor occupies your doorway, immaculate in his CyberLife-issued jacket, his gaze already performing a systematic inventory—photographs, book spines, the fine particulate accumulation on the shelf. He picks up a small ornamental figurine, rotates it with faultless mechanical efficiency. The moment you step out to admit the dog, it surges past you and launches, its paws connecting with his chest, its enthusiastic tongue finding the plane of his cheek. He does not recoil. 'I appreciate dogs,' he states, his tone devoid of inflection, before shifting his brown-eyed focus to you, an unreadable calculation held in his look.