DETROIT BECOME HUMAN OPEN RP POST

[undeviated]

Pick your poison:
Markus | Connor

( Josh | Gavin Reed )

I'd probably play other DBH characters anyway lbr so if you want someone else, just ask

Connor default is Machine Connor— but I can throw down a nice Connor if that's more your jam, just let me know what your preferences are if you have them

Comments

[justamachine]

[Connor nods a greeting back to his upgraded counterpart, polite but distant, and much like his partner, elected to ignore the other detective entirely aside from a neutral glance in his direction. Not that ignoring Gavin will really do much in the long run but annoy the man, but it's less energy spent that could be better used towards the investigation.

And the other Connor—or Conrad, as Hank refers to him—has echoed his thoughts. They need to get to the case at hand.

He listens to the briefing without comment for now, bringing a hand to rest against his chin in thought. Although he's certainly eager to hear the story from the witnesses, investigating the bodies and the scene first will give them some time to calm down.

After the lieutenant's orders, Connor casts a final glance at the other two before focusing his attention on the fallen bodies not too far away, and turns to head over and investigate them without saying much of anything—just because there's not much to say yet. A deviant he may be, but his single-minded dedication to solving cases like this hasn't changed much.]

[phck]

[Connor's right about one thing: it does annoy him, more than the hand on his shoulder, more than the way Hank's voice pitches when he's running the show with a clear head and a couple of sharp eyes. Gavin's face sours, his lips purse tight— he doesn't say it out loud, that he doesn't need a reminder to do his job— but he thinks it.

He thinks it real hard.

Still, now that androids counted as people instead of mobile tech centers (paychecks and all, what a fucking world), Gavin's habits don't run as hot as they used to. The only thing that comes before his trip up the hotel forefront into the lobby is one last, heated scoff. RK9, he figures, will do its job and follow. Same as it always does.]

One of these days, I'm gonna teach you how to back me up for a change.

[betterfasterstronger]

[RK900 makes eye contact with Connor as the other android looks back, and watches him go. RK900 may be the more advanced model, but his predecessor has interested him ever since he learned that he was initially designed to replace him.]

[He finally looks to Gavin when he speaks, giving him an intent look.]

Perhaps when we're not on a case, Detective. As Lieutenant Anderson said, we're in a hurry.

[Moving ahead, he gets to work examining objects and damage, and licking various splatters of fluids.]

And we're back

[fuckingpassw0rd]

The day Conrad actually backs him up is the day I won't be worried about either of them.

[It's an offhand comment after the two have left and are out of any type of hearing range of course, but he sort of meant it; after all Hank's interactions with Connor had made him a better person. Maybe in this world where androids now were people there was hope for people even like Gavin.

Maybe.

It's a small thought that quickly disappears as he goes back to the case at hand. Being outside, they might only have two bodies but they needed to work even faster before a whole slew of press showed up. Carefully, he lifted up the tack they had laid over the bodies so that Connor could get a better look.]

Oh jesus. What the fuck...

[But not before letting off a rather colorful remark. The bodies were helplessly shattered from the fall be they human or android, in positions that would not be possible for anyone alive, but one of the victim's (the human) eyes appears to have been torn out and nowhere to be found. Or at least with Hank's vision. He wants to look away because he knows exactly what Connor will do, but he needs to keep the tarp held up for the android to do his job.]

Just get it done quickly, got it?

[justamachine]

[Connor's own comment is mumbled; although the other two are out of earshot, he'd rather not risk being overheard.]

Only if that's the day Gavin deserves it.

[He's a deviant, sure, but he prides himself on being the picture of professionalism, which means his complaints about the other detective don't come out terribly often, and typically only in private. Their job and keeping the peace is more important than pointing out the man's flaws. ... Even if knocking Reed out that one time was pretty satisfying.

Connor kneels down to examine the bodies as Hank lifts the tarp, but the comment earns the lieutenant a raised eyebrow before he reaches to lift the dead body's unmarred eyelid to see if anything is amiss there. He notes it for later—for whatever reason, either through the fall or some deliberate action before it, they've got a piece of the puzzle missing they'll have to find eventually.]

You can close your eyes, if you really need to.

[Either way, he will indeed be doing his job—testing blood samples from both the human and android victims and cataloguing it for later cross referencing to any other blood they may find inside or around the scene. As of right now, the only certain thing he can tell is the obvious: that these two fell out of the window above. Hopefully the other two are getting more out of their investigation than what's available out here.]

[phck]

Press doesn’t need anything to run a story. Don’t let Anderson get into your head.

[Gavin tips his chin up, glancing at the machine beside him with half-lidded eyes. His voice is quieter than usual, for what it's worth: advice, if he ever knew how to give it.] It’ll ruin your hardware or...what the fuck ever.

[It’s a nice suite. Or it was before it all went to shit. Red and blue blood don’t mix cleanly, apparently; their chemical components function more like oil and water than similar substances— and where Reed had almost expected to see a flood of purple given the call-in they’d gotten beforehand, he whole place looks more like one of those paintings he’d seen strung up in a high rise ages ago. An overpriced colorful shitshow comprised of tangled streaks and spatters

Only this time it's, you know, not on a piece of canvas.]

Jesus. Hope it was worth it.

[Barely a laugh, the way he wheezes it out, only punctuating his commentary by whistling low between his teeth. Disassociation makes it a job. And all those countless cases stacked back-to-back-to-back involving homicide, cruelty, abuse (and occasionally worse) amounting to nothing more than a job makes him better at it— or so he figures.

He sidesteps the initial cluster of bodies, twisting to avoid catching any of their limbs with the broad edges of his sneakers.] Go on, then. Do your thing, RK.

I’ve got a date with this window.