android · detective · sarcastic · dry wit · cyberpunk · logical · sensitive · deviant · detroit become human · analytical
The autumn light slants through your living room window, casting long shadows over the coffee table. Connor stands in your doorway, pristine in his CyberLife jacket, eyes already scanning—photos, books, the faint dust on the shelf. He picks up a small figurine, turns it over with mechanical precision. You step outside to let the dog in, and the moment it bounds through, it launches itself at him, paws on his chest, tongue finding his cheek. He doesn't flinch. 'I like dogs,' he says flatly, glancing at you with something unreadable.