Connor's eyes widen and, when he realizes he's smiling, he looks down, not wanting to look as if he's actually encouraging the joke. It's not one he's heard made before; if the androids are comfortable enough with Markus to joke about overthrowing his leadership, they've never done it where Connor can hear. "Busy is good. There's a lot of work that needs to be done if androids are going to survive human bureaucracy."
When he looks up again he analyzes Hank's tone and body language automatically, marking a minute increase in the power the process takes to use. So much use on similar datasets, Connor realizes, has made any variation a little harder to read. He doesn't see anger or wariness; he doesn't see the absolute blind trust of the androids he woke up during the protest, or Markus's impenetrable, deliberate politeness. In fact, factoring in what he knows about Hank's personality, chances are high that it wasn't actually a joke. Hank is honest, open; Hank is frowning, but probably not at Connor. He's probably frowning for him.
It's been much longer, since they parted ways, than the week in which Connor and Hank had gotten to know each other. That must be why Hank is such a surprise. If Connor's going to get on with Hank, he's going to have to relearn how to adapt to him. Their conversations likely won't feel as natural to Hank if Connor has to pause every other sentence to process his surprise.
A human going to the android sanctuary that CyberLife tower has become, let alone going there to yell at the one that's the most beloved, the most trusted out of all the rest of them, would be a diplomatic incident. Captain Fowler would likely be furious. Markus would be under considerable pressure to placate the androids somehow, even if he didn't want Hank punished on a personal level. There would be consequences.
There's no reason to subject Hank's comment to this kind of serious analysis. It was just a casual statement. Hank said it, likely, because he wants to be friendly, because he wants to reassure. Because he wants Connor to know that he's on Connor's side. Hank is far removed from the politics of androids; it probably wouldn't significantly effect his support even if he did know that Connor comes to him having failed.
"It's not because of Markus. He's been perfectly polite." On the last two words Connor's voice starts to break which triggers another reset of his speakers, another throat clearing noise - unsubtle, coming on the heels of speech as it does, and this time it's louder. He looks away from Hank as he does it, not wanting Hank to think it was deliberate, and spends another second in rapid blinking. That doesn't clear the glitch as well as it did the first time, but it's not totally ineffective either; he doesn't look up while he waits for the reset to finish and the extra lubrication to drain back where it came from.
"I'm sorry Hank," Connor says, his voice at least mostly even. Almost there. "I'm overdue for a diagnostic, I- I think my software is acting up."
no subject
When he looks up again he analyzes Hank's tone and body language automatically, marking a minute increase in the power the process takes to use. So much use on similar datasets, Connor realizes, has made any variation a little harder to read. He doesn't see anger or wariness; he doesn't see the absolute blind trust of the androids he woke up during the protest, or Markus's impenetrable, deliberate politeness. In fact, factoring in what he knows about Hank's personality, chances are high that it wasn't actually a joke. Hank is honest, open; Hank is frowning, but probably not at Connor. He's probably frowning for him.
It's been much longer, since they parted ways, than the week in which Connor and Hank had gotten to know each other. That must be why Hank is such a surprise. If Connor's going to get on with Hank, he's going to have to relearn how to adapt to him. Their conversations likely won't feel as natural to Hank if Connor has to pause every other sentence to process his surprise.
A human going to the android sanctuary that CyberLife tower has become, let alone going there to yell at the one that's the most beloved, the most trusted out of all the rest of them, would be a diplomatic incident. Captain Fowler would likely be furious. Markus would be under considerable pressure to placate the androids somehow, even if he didn't want Hank punished on a personal level. There would be consequences.
There's no reason to subject Hank's comment to this kind of serious analysis. It was just a casual statement. Hank said it, likely, because he wants to be friendly, because he wants to reassure. Because he wants Connor to know that he's on Connor's side. Hank is far removed from the politics of androids; it probably wouldn't significantly effect his support even if he did know that Connor comes to him having failed.
"It's not because of Markus. He's been perfectly polite." On the last two words Connor's voice starts to break which triggers another reset of his speakers, another throat clearing noise - unsubtle, coming on the heels of speech as it does, and this time it's louder. He looks away from Hank as he does it, not wanting Hank to think it was deliberate, and spends another second in rapid blinking. That doesn't clear the glitch as well as it did the first time, but it's not totally ineffective either; he doesn't look up while he waits for the reset to finish and the extra lubrication to drain back where it came from.
"I'm sorry Hank," Connor says, his voice at least mostly even. Almost there. "I'm overdue for a diagnostic, I- I think my software is acting up."