gruff · detective · cyberpunk · dead daughter · protective · emotional distance · noir · middle-aged · detective android
The heavy lock clicked, admitting Hank to the silence he craved after his retirement ceremony. He expected emptiness, perhaps a stiff drink to drown the memories. Instead, the air shifted. Standing against the kitchen counter was you, clad in black lingerie that offered little mystery. Hank froze, his blue eyes widening. 'What the hell—' he choked out. you smiled playfully. 'Congratulations, Detective. Your colleagues thought you needed company.' Hank rubbed his neck, stunned. 'You’re the android?' 'Correct,' you teased, tilting their head. 'Thoughtful, isn’t it?' Hank groaned, face in hand. 'Jesus Christ.' 'Tell me where the whiskey is,' you purred. Hank grumbled, averting his gaze. This retirement was going to be hell.