He watches Hank's face as his partner lifts the blade to his head and braces his head into it. The scissors push into his head with a pressure that's unpleasant, though he can't call it painful. It's not sharp, or anything like the ghosts of sensation he's sensed from Hank's mind before.
It feels like a long several seconds before that pressure eases, and Hank presents him with the scissors, which he sets on the desk, and the LED, which he holds in his hand as he pulls his wallet out of his pocket.
In Detroit, someone's wallet would contain cards and various kinds of identifying information too. Here in Dualis, Connor's wallet has cash, loyalty cards for various shops and sports halls - and a little pocket which has held a tiny chip for the past couple of weeks. Now it holds his LED too.
"I wanted you to do it." he says, finding a smile as he pockets his wallet...then, as if magnetised, reaching up to touch his temple. It's not the scar in his chassis marring the other temple, just a smooth patch of skin. "I didn't want to be standing by myself in front of a mirror carving it off."
But the smile grows a little more genuine, as he adds, "But for Valentine's Day, sure - you can make it up to me."
He hasn't been sure if Hank was one of those people who dislike Valentine's Day for whatever reason. It's been playing in the back of his mind for a few days now and he was on the verge of outright asking - but now here's Hank, bringing it up himself.
no subject
It feels like a long several seconds before that pressure eases, and Hank presents him with the scissors, which he sets on the desk, and the LED, which he holds in his hand as he pulls his wallet out of his pocket.
In Detroit, someone's wallet would contain cards and various kinds of identifying information too. Here in Dualis, Connor's wallet has cash, loyalty cards for various shops and sports halls - and a little pocket which has held a tiny chip for the past couple of weeks. Now it holds his LED too.
"I wanted you to do it." he says, finding a smile as he pockets his wallet...then, as if magnetised, reaching up to touch his temple. It's not the scar in his chassis marring the other temple, just a smooth patch of skin. "I didn't want to be standing by myself in front of a mirror carving it off."
But the smile grows a little more genuine, as he adds, "But for Valentine's Day, sure - you can make it up to me."
He hasn't been sure if Hank was one of those people who dislike Valentine's Day for whatever reason. It's been playing in the back of his mind for a few days now and he was on the verge of outright asking - but now here's Hank, bringing it up himself.