You're an android in questioning. Why?

Accused of murder, naturally. 

But you won't speak. You won't even look at the android, whose name appears to be Connor from how much bickering is going on through the one-way glass, criticizing his way of getting me to crack.

"Okay then, don't talk." He nods his head forward slightly, as if he's sympathizing. 

"What do I care after all?"

His tone is light, bubbly, and you adjust your fingers, staring at the metal table.

Yet, Connor continues. "I mean--" A slight laugh. "I'm not the one accused of murder."

"Right?"

When he says that, your eyes snap up to his soft brown ones.

He looks inviting, caring, gentle. You can't help but want to trust him.

And, you kind of have to. Your life is in his hands. You're practically broken in several spots, many of your components damaged or broken.

You need him.