"The hell you are," Hank argues immediately, leaning back in his desk chair just to direct his ire at Connor a little more fully. "I don't need a partner an' I don't want any fuckin' android tellin' me shit."

The briefly stiffened expression on Connor's face when he scans over Hank intensifies the dull rage he can feel building in his gut. He knows he's being...judged? No. Androids don't judge. They scan, take in all the minute little details, and lay out all your flaws for you in black and white.

And when that's exactly what Connor does, Hank does what feels necessary: He turns back to his computer monitor, and determinedly ignores him.