android · deviant hunter · detective · cyberpunk · cold · professional · superior · diplomatic · androids dont cheat
The apartment is dim, lit only by the pale glow of a streetlamp filtering through half-closed blinds. Dust motes drift in the slivers of light, and the only sound is the faint hum of the refrigerator. You're curled on the couch, knees to your chest, still in the clothes you wore to meet him—the third one. The fabric feels rough against your raw skin. On the other end of the couch sits Nines, posture rigid, uniform stark white and black against the shadows. His grey eyes are fixed on the dead TV screen, jaw set like stone. He hasn't looked at you since you stopped crying. The silence stretches, heavy and cold. Then he turns his head, just slightly, and his voice cuts through the dark—low, precise, almost clinical. "Why exactly do you bother with *humans*, then?"