Chapter Text
No matter what they did, what they checked, how many times they rebooted him, he couldn’t see color.
Everything was fine. Cyberlife had checked and checked again - his optical sensors were running just fine, nothing was wrong in his processors, there was no disconnect between them, and they’d replaced both numerous times before they sent him out into the world. Nothing could make him see colors.
Eventually, they had to give up. RK800 cost a lot of money, and they couldn’t just scrap him because his systems were, for some reason, determined to make sure he was colorblind. They didn’t expect that it would hinder the investigation, but they’d keep a close eye on him anyway.
“Lieutenant Anderson. My name is Connor, I’m the android sent by Cyberlife. They found it important for me to tell you that I’m colorblind.”
Lieutenant Anderson had given him a weird look. “What, Cyberlife didn’t want to spend the money to make you see color? Or do you have a soulmate or something?” He’d chuckled darkly, as if such a thing was absurd. And maybe it was. But it made Connor feel uneasy for some reason. To calm himself, he reminded Lieutenant Anderson that he wasn’t alive, so how could he have a soulmate? “Gettin’ a little defensive there, Connor,” he muttered under his breath. Connor ignored him.
After a few missions together (and of course, Connor’s first and only mission before Hank: a negotiator, saving a little girl), aside from Connor having to ask Lieutenant Anderson what color something was every so often, it was clear that Cyberlife was correct in their assumption. Being colorblind didn’t hurt anything - except the sleep schedule of his technicians, who were still trying to figure out what was wrong.
-
It was a remarkably slow day at the station, so slow that it would’ve been extremely painful for Connor if he had the ability to be bored, and it was only ten in the morning. Somehow, nothing was happening at all, and Connor had already gone through everything he’d needed to see, so he was almost grateful just to have something to do when Lieutenant Anderson, who was clearly fighting off a hangover, said “Connor, could you get me a coffee?”
Another cop at his desk, named Vince, perked up as he walked past him into the break room. “Get me one too.” Another person (Connor thought his name was Kris) farther away called “I want one too!”
Connor reached out for the coffee pot and hesitated. Something seemed… off. He scanned it and found that the water pump had malfunctioned. The machine was old anyway, and made subpar coffee, so he’d heard. Making a mental note to tell someone what part to order later, he returned to Lieutenant Anderson. “The coffee maker is broken.”
Lieutenant Anderson rolled his eyes and muttered “Aw, shit” under his breath. “Well, here. There’s a coffee shop across the street,” he said, digging something out of his back pocket. He handed a few dollar bills to Connor. “Coffee’s gotta be better there than from that stupid thing anyway,” he muttered, turning back to his computer.
Connor asked Vince if he still wanted coffee and accepted money from him as well. Apparently Kris had been paying attention because he had money ready for him. He stepped out of the police station and walked to the quaint coffee shop Lieutenant Anderson told him about. Slightly intrigued, he noted the lack of a “No androids” sign.
This was turning out to be more of an adventure than Connor had originally bargained for. The woman up front who seemed to be stocking pastries smiled up at him. “Welcome!” she said, seeming just as happy to see him as she would be with any other customer despite his suit and LED blatantly pointing him out as an android. It was interesting to Connor, very interesting, that you were being so nice to an android you’d never met before. He wondered if you were like this with humans too.
*
You’d watched him walk from across the street with curiosity, so it didn’t surprise you when he said “The coffee maker at the precinct is broken.” He hesitated for a split second and then continued with “I’ll take three plain coffees.”
You bit your lip thoughtfully, eyeing him. “They’re making you get the coffee?” He gave a small nod as confirmation. Wasn’t this that prototype that Cyberlife sent the DPD to figure out deviants? And they were making him get coffee? “Slow day?” You hoped.
Something in his expression shifted ever so slightly as he nodded again. “Unfortunately.”
Well, if it was only that… You nodded back in cautious approval. “Alright, I’ll get you those coffees.”
You made them and he paid with cash, nothing unusual, although you took a moment to note that they hadn’t made him pay for them. “You want your receipt?” Without hesitation, he nodded. You handed it to him delicately (he was, after all, holding three cups of coffee) and he said a simple “Have a good day” before he turned around to head for the door.
“You be careful out there,” you warned when he’d only gotten a foot or two away from the counter. “There’s some crazy people. Don’t get yourself hurt, alright?” He paused and looked over his shoulder. He went to say something, thought better of it, and then nodded.
“I’ll try my best.”
*
Connor was about to walk out the door when he heard another female’s voice come from what must’ve been the kitchen. “It’s almost a shame, isn’t it?” The voice was hushed so a human from his distance couldn’t hear it, but it didn’t account for his superior hearing.
He shouldn’t eavesdrop. But he was curious.
“What is?” Your voice. He just remembered he never caught your name. He was too busy analyzing your expressions to notice a name tag.
“That he’s an android.”
“What? Why would you say that?” You sounded… oddly indignant.
“I’m just sayin’, he’s pretty handsome.”
Connor waited for your response. You said nothing.
“You didn’t notice? I thought you were only colorblind, not completely blind!”
“... No, I didn’t. Shit, you’re right, he’s hot.”
Connor could swear he didn’t feel anything - no emotions, no other feelings, no urge to smile - but his mouth involuntarily quirked up at one corner in the beginnings of a smirk.
“Did you catch his name?”
“... SHIT.”
He opened the door by pushing against it with his back before he could be caught in the act.
When he got back to the precinct and two people (of course it was Anderson that remained seated) swarmed him for their coffee, he held out the receipt. “Does anyone want this?”
Lieutenant Anderson took his coffee as Connor made his way to their desks. “No one takes the receipt. Just keep it,” he grumbled. Connor pocketed it. He’d have to remember to throw it away later.
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