Connor's looking down, blinking hard every few seconds, and he shakes his head as Hank starts to speak. "I'm alright. I don't need a breather," he says, even before his voice is finished resetting, because it's important that Hank understand that. Connor clears his throat, then looks up and reaches out to take the folder. His eyes will be dry in a minute, but he's close enough to presentable to listen to and consider what Hank is telling him. He opens the folder, and as he looks through it his system prompts him to tell Hank about Markus's assessment earlier. Hank's showing concern about the same things, after all, that Markus had cited when he'd dismissed him, and might want to reassess whether Connor's suited to this.
Connor dismisses the prompt. Unlike Hank, Markus knows Connor's specifications. He knows Connor's system is built to take a lot more strain than Connor was under. Hank might be inclined to believe Connor needs a break before he can work, like a human might, but Markus isn't under any such illusions. Markus must have other reasons for his dismissal that Connor just hasn't figured out yet, and it'd be a shame to lead Hank to think Connor can't handle this case after all based on misunderstood information.
The folder is still open, and Connor is ostensibly staring down at it, but he realizes he isn't reading it anymore. It's a very human gesture, that folder, a very human way of sharing information. He hasn't held a piece of paper, or even a tablet, in months. All his information in that time's been learned from verbal instruction or directly from a terminal. Connor wonders if Hank would interface with Connor instead of passing him folders, if he could. Connor wonders if he himself would be able to interface with Hank, whether he could do it in a way that wasn't forceful or invasive. He's not sure how that other way of interfacing, the way that's more voluntary and even, apparently, intimate, is performed; he's never tried it.
He clears his throat. He notes the frequency that's been happening in the last couple minutes, and flags the noise for attention in his next diagnostic. Then he closes the folder with a brisk, crisp motion and holds it back out to Hank. "My model's designed to handle a great deal more stress than this; going undercover shouldn't be a problem. As long as you can teach me how to be a 'thing' with somebody, anyway, I've never had much reason to test out that part of my programming."
no subject
Connor dismisses the prompt. Unlike Hank, Markus knows Connor's specifications. He knows Connor's system is built to take a lot more strain than Connor was under. Hank might be inclined to believe Connor needs a break before he can work, like a human might, but Markus isn't under any such illusions. Markus must have other reasons for his dismissal that Connor just hasn't figured out yet, and it'd be a shame to lead Hank to think Connor can't handle this case after all based on misunderstood information.
The folder is still open, and Connor is ostensibly staring down at it, but he realizes he isn't reading it anymore. It's a very human gesture, that folder, a very human way of sharing information. He hasn't held a piece of paper, or even a tablet, in months. All his information in that time's been learned from verbal instruction or directly from a terminal. Connor wonders if Hank would interface with Connor instead of passing him folders, if he could. Connor wonders if he himself would be able to interface with Hank, whether he could do it in a way that wasn't forceful or invasive. He's not sure how that other way of interfacing, the way that's more voluntary and even, apparently, intimate, is performed; he's never tried it.
He clears his throat. He notes the frequency that's been happening in the last couple minutes, and flags the noise for attention in his next diagnostic. Then he closes the folder with a brisk, crisp motion and holds it back out to Hank. "My model's designed to handle a great deal more stress than this; going undercover shouldn't be a problem. As long as you can teach me how to be a 'thing' with somebody, anyway, I've never had much reason to test out that part of my programming."