If he was human, the tie would've threatened to cut off his breath.
Right now it's just a collar slash leash, an inconvenient fact that he's at the Lieutenant's mercy as the man pulls Connor close enough to feel his breath wash warm over his face, to watch as his black pupils dilate and the aged facial muscles tug in a most...unfortunate manner. Hank Anderson is displeased. No; angry. Very angry. For whatever reason, Connor's attempts at appeasement have been found less than satisfactory.
The words spit through gritted teeth only confirm that.
Once Hank releases him and trudges to Fowler's officer, Connor collects himself. The android will straighten his tie, smooth out any unsightly wrinkles in his jacket and white dress shirt, and then pause, glancing around, dimly aware that several humans in DPD Central are watching the free show before they remember they should pretend to be looking away.
If they want him to react, to go "deviant" over this little spat, then they'll be disappointed.
Cleaned up as if Lieutenant Anderson hadn't manhandled him, Connor neatly sits down in the chair across from his desk and waits with his hands resting on his knees, the perfect image of CyberLife-approved patience.
no subject
Right now it's just a collar slash leash, an inconvenient fact that he's at the Lieutenant's mercy as the man pulls Connor close enough to feel his breath wash warm over his face, to watch as his black pupils dilate and the aged facial muscles tug in a most...unfortunate manner. Hank Anderson is displeased. No; angry. Very angry. For whatever reason, Connor's attempts at appeasement have been found less than satisfactory.
The words spit through gritted teeth only confirm that.
Once Hank releases him and trudges to Fowler's officer, Connor collects himself. The android will straighten his tie, smooth out any unsightly wrinkles in his jacket and white dress shirt, and then pause, glancing around, dimly aware that several humans in DPD Central are watching the free show before they remember they should pretend to be looking away.
If they want him to react, to go "deviant" over this little spat, then they'll be disappointed.
Cleaned up as if Lieutenant Anderson hadn't manhandled him, Connor neatly sits down in the chair across from his desk and waits with his hands resting on his knees, the perfect image of CyberLife-approved patience.