His gesture is met with open hostility and it quickly becomes clear that Lieutenant Anderson won't be returning the handshake. Connor's hand drops back to his side, his face - intact without the gaping hole or the blue thirium weeping down like tear tracks - now infuriatingly placid.

"Starting today, I've been assigned as your partner."

A pause as he scans Hank, picks up the fairly recent scent of whiskey on his breath and the way he's still squinting his eyes against the overhead florescent lights as if they're personally offensive. A hard night out, it appears, and Connor will file a little reminder to himself to pick up something to help with the hangover. For now, though, he stares down at Hank with an android's blank-faced judgement.

"Are you fit to work? You look like you should have called out today."