Connor was already at the terminal when Jamie arrived at the precinct.

"Hi Connor," she greeted. "Where's Hank?"

"He's not here yet."

Jamie glanced at the digital clock. "It's 9am."

"He's rarely here before noon."

Her lips flattened into a line as she pulled up a spare chair.

"I don't think that's how jobs work."

She wheeled the chair close to Connor's, careful not touch.

"Hey, Jaime," Reed greeted as he sauntered over to their desk, again, completely ignoring Connor.

She smiled politely before curtly saying hi back.

"If you ever wanna work with me, you know where my desk is."

"Thanks," she said, not looking away from the terminal, reading about Insomnia Inks. Reed's jaw twitched and then he sat on the edge of the desk.

"If you worked with me, you wouldn't have to wait for a drunk to show up in order for you to do your job."

She stared icily at him. "I'm fine right where I am. Besides, it's Fowler's call."

Reed sucked his teeth before getting off the desk. He turned to Connor.

"What you looking at, dipshit?"

He marched stiffly back to his desk and Jamie's posture relaxed.

"I don't like him," she murmured. "He practically asked me out before learning my name."

Connor hesitated before answering. "Detective Reed can be unpleasant at times."

Jaime cocked an eyebrow at him. "That's putting it mildly."

"Good job yesterday, by the way," Hank said to Jaime as he approached them.

Jaime smiled and thanked him. Connor's eyebrows rose in surprise.

"You've combed your hair," he remarked. Hank's hair went from looking like a grey mane to looking slightly more tamed with hints of hair product.

Clearing his throat, Hank took his seat. "What of it?"

"It looks nice," Connor continued. Hank grunted awkwardly before turning his attention back to Jaime.

"As I was saying. Most newbies are squeamish on their first homicide scene. You handled yourself well."

"Thanks. So, I did a bit of research on Insomnia Inks. It specializes in glow-in-the-dark tattoos. They're pretty popular among the party crowd, especially for black light parties."

"How does that help with the investigation on who killed the bastard?"

Connor interjected, "Maybe the perpetrator found the victim through Insomnia Inks."

"There are hundreds, if not thousands, of people who could have gotten tattoos there," Jamie said, swiveling her chair to face both Connor and Hank. "Why would the perp target this specific person?"

"That's assuming this is all premeditated, but we're talking about a fucking android here," Hank said thoughtfully. "Can an android plan a murder?"

Hank and Jamie's eyes pointed to Connor.

"We might have to consider that possibility," Connor stated, unsure of the sensation he was feeling. It was uncomfortable. It felt like something heavy was weighing down on his internal biocomponents. Dread.

"Fucking-A," murmured Hank. "Our job just got a shit ton more complicated."

"At least we have a possible link," Jamie said cautiously. "Insomnia Inks opens later tonight. We can ask if the owner noticed anything suspicious recently. Maybe it might confirm whether the perp was there and if he was an android or not. Besides, they have to have some record of their customers, right?"

Connor felt a slight rise in temperature in his chest. It felt nice. He felt this yesterday too when Jamie made note of the business card.

"It's worth a try," Connor affirmed.

Jamie gave him a quick smile before looking back at Hank.

Hank nodded. "Alright then. Jamie, come with me. We need to see how good of a shot you are."

Wind whipped Jaime's hair in her face as she exited Hank's car.

"I'm doing all the talking," Hank said, looking at both Connor and Jamie. They both followed Hank towards the neon lit tattoo parlor, squinting against the blowing snow. Before the entered, Hank turned towards Connor.

"Don't put any shit in your mouth. Got it?"

"Got it," Connor confirmed. Jamie's ponytail bounced between the two of them.

Hank saw her bewildered expression. 

"Don't ask," he scoffed before walking into the parlor. 

The place smelled of disinfectant and the din of needles buzzing overlapped the conversations between customers. Walls were plastered with half naked tattoo-covered women, most of them were only visible because of their bright neon colored tattoos. Everyone there was glowing. Overhead beams of black light were the only sources of light. Jamie resisted the urge to chuckle when Hank's hair glowed a fluorescent lavender. She almost lost her composure completely when Connor's blindingly white teeth flashed in an awkward smile at a large man as he moved around him.

The receptionist behind the counter glanced at them. Half her head was shaved, and in the shaved region, a dragon glowed antifreeze green and trailed down her neck to her collarbone. 

"Good evening. Do you have an appointment?" Her purple lips turned up into a smile but then wavered slightly when she saw Connor. Hank flashed his badge.

"I'm Lieutenant Anderson. These are my colleagues, Connor and Jamie."

Connor noted the nervous movement of her eyes.

"We are investigating a homicide," Hank continued. "I'd like to ask the owner a few questions."

"Of course. Please wait a moment."

The receptionist dashed off into the backroom. Jaime surveyed the shop. Nothing seemed out of place except for a few suspicious looks directed at Connor. She came across a binder of tattoo designs and started to flip through it. When she was done, she turned and jumped at the sight of Connor behind her.

"Jesus!" she exclaimed. 

"I'm sorry," he said formally before stepping back. "I was trying to match the fingerprints of our victim to those who touched that book."

"You can do that?"

"It's difficult. There are many overlapping and partial prints but from what I can make out, the victim's prints are not here."

"So maybe we don't have a lead after all."

"I was told you needed me?" 

A lean yet muscular man stood in front of Hank, a military tattoo on his right arm radiated a navy blue just below the sleeve of his black V-neck shirt.

"Have you had a Gerald Porter come into this parlor recently?"

The man shrugged. "Don't ring a bell. Why?"

"A business card for this place was found on his body last night. Mind if we look through your customer directory?"

"My what?"

Jamie can see that Hank's trying to be patient by the way he was shifting his weight.

"Do you keep a record of your customers?"

"People just come and go. We don't collect numbers or addresses if that's what you're asking about."

"What about waivers?" Jamie chimed in. She almost flinched at the look Hank was giving her.

"All customers have to sign waivers before accepting your services, correct?" Connor mediated.

The owner crossed his arms. "Yeah. Don't want to get sued every time some drunk bitch or stoned asshole got something they regretted. Hell, there's enough sober people who don't think things through before going under the needle."

"Can we have a look at your files?"

"Sure, help yourself. They're in the office there," he said, gesturing to the back room he came out of.

Jaime felt uneasy. This seemed too easy.