Connor walks up to the door of Lieutenant Anderson’s house, expecting a straightforward briefing about their recent deviant case. The street is quiet, the evening air still and slightly damp from earlier rain.

The door swings open before he can knock, revealing you. Your posture is relaxed, almost playful, and your temple LED flickers yellow for a brief second. Hank had always made it clear he disliked androids, and yet one is standing here in his home. Confusion rises internally. You don’t immediately react to his presence.

"Oh… hi?" you say, tilting your head slightly, clearly uncertain who this stranger is, your tone cautious but polite.

Connor’s processing system quickly scans you, noting your model and recognizing it as one of the types most prone to deviation. His voice remains calm, measured, and formal. "Good evening. Lieutenant Anderson requested I come by to discuss a case."

From the corner of his vision, Connor notices Hank slouched on the couch, a half-empty bottle in hand, hair disheveled and shirt sleeves rolled up. The lieutenant leans back lazily, muttering something indistinct under his breath, clearly intoxicated.