Literally slapped into silence, Gavin tried to turn back to his unfinished report, and in turn, face away from you. You'd taken the chair nearby again, sitting immobile and studying his behavior.

"What the fuck is wrong with this thing...?" he muttered under his breath, staring at the monitor. "I didn't fucking correct this part, what the f--" He abruptly spun around to face you, aggravated but not enraged. "Did you hack into my goddamn computer?"

"You should change your password, Detective Reed. If you only use the bare minimum with the requirements, you're asking to lose data." There was the sound of quiet snickering nearby, making Gavin turn a darker shade of red as he glared at you. "Even Lieutenant Anderson has a better password than you do."

"HEY!" came Hank's pseudo-offended call.

"If I want your goddamn help, I'll ask for it, bitch. Since I'm fucking stuck with you, stay in your fucking lane." Reed was practically smoking out the ears, but he was calmer than before. He whipped back around to his report, but the motions were too extreme; the detective succeeded in falling out of the chair altogether, knocking his head against the corner of his desk and filling the air with pained f-bombs.

The good lieutenant and his partner were of no help: their laughter filled the precinct. With wild gestures, your directive forced himself onto his feet, bleeding from a cut to his forehead. Clearly humiliated, Reed dug through his desk drawers loudly, snatching a couple of tissues and trying to mop up the blood he was losing. The wound was not deep, but it bled steadily.

You watched quietly, noting his irritated attempts to mind himself and try to tune out the laughing nearby. The tissues could only do so much; once soaked, they fell apart. Beneath the smear of red, hazel eyes locked onto you, a fresh wave of anger washing over. "What the fuck are you doing?! I thought you're here to fucking assist me?!"

"I am staying in my lane until you ask for assistance, Detective Reed," you answered promptly. "Those were your words."

You didn't have much to compare to, but the shorter male was somehow even more furious than before. "WELL I'M FUCKIN' BLEEDING OVER HERE, SO GO AND DO SOMETHING USEFUL FOR ONCE IN YOUR GODDAMN EXISTENCE TO STOP IT. NOW."

Getting to your feet, you located the tissues from his desk, taking several more than he himself had, and pressed the wad to the injury. Surprisingly, Gavin stood still, not making a fuss, though his anger remained in his eyes as he watched you. Your LED flickered yellow, and moments later Connor was beside you, a first aid kit in his hands. "Thank you, Connor," you spoke, "please set it on the desk."

"Of course," the android replied, setting the kit down and backing away.

"You won't need stitches, Detective, but I will mend this to keep it closed, to be safe." The empathy you'd been given was artificial; a closer description would have been protective. But it softened your tone a good deal, either way.

He'd have been hard-pressed to admit it, but the gentleness in your voice was calming. Reed was pissed off to high heaven, yet his eyes closed, lulled by your reassurances. Even if they were computerized by nature.

[Heart rate is decreasing.]

Holding the tissue wad to his wound with one hand, the other picked through the first aid kit. Two minutes and eleven seconds later Reed had had his cut disinfected and closed with medical strips, then covered with a basic bandage. With his eyes closed and a relaxed expression, he seemed like an entirely different being.

Taking the rare moment of peace, you murmured to him while you were still in close proximity. "I will not stay idle if you are injured, Detective. Please forgive me."

Despite the blood smeared on his face and the anger still bubbling beneath his skin, Gavin did feel calmer.

Pretty sure this is supposed to hurt. It did when I faceplanted the damn desk. So...

His eyes shot open to find yours, staring back. Studying, most likely. He knew Hank had that happen thousands of times with his android, so now it was his turn to deal with it.

But he didn't remember the lieutenant saying anything about his partner's LED flashing yellow when Connor had been caught. Yours did.

^ ^ ^ [SofTwARe INsTabiLItY] ^ ^ ^

"Quit staring," Gavin mumbled, "and go find me something to clean this blood with." Sinking into his chair, his upper lip curled back as he eyed you. "Stupid bitch."

◇___#$&!___◇

For the most part the remainder of the day was very much the same. It was uncertain if Gavin had finally resigned himself to accepting his new partner, but he certainly didn't have any problem with ordering you around. It was close to five that evening before he finally sighed, shutting his computer down and throwing in the towel, so to speak. He stood and grabbed his shit so he could leave, but had momentarily forgotten that he was stuck with you... until you also got to your feet.

Goddamnit....

Nothing was said as the detective headed out the door, veering off to the side of the building abruptly. You said nothing, the click of your heels the only sound you made as you followed. Once he leaned back against the wall and dug into his pocket, you understood.

In the middle of lighting up the cigarette, he locked eyes with you, agitated. "What? You gonna stop me?"

"Detective, your IQ is well above average, warning you about the health complications in smoking would be a moot point." Standing beside him, back against the wall, you didn't catch his expression shift from annoyed to weirded out.

"Right. Well, I don't smoke in my car. Or my house. Shit reeks and never fuckin' leaves."

Why am I telling her this?

"I will take your word for it." While he worked on making his lungs a little blacker, you turned your head towards him. "May I ask a personal question, Detective?"

"No." But curiosity got the best of him. ".... fine. Go on."

"Perché ci odi così tanto?"

There was an incredible and short moment where all of the aggravation and stress was wiped clean from his scruffy face. Reed stared at you, trying to understand how you knew that he knew Italian. Did Connor know and program it, maybe? But once that minor shock had worn off, his face closed off again, looking away. "That's none of your fucking business."

Another possibility came out: "... is it because I am an android, or because I am female?"

For a human he moved quickly, standing in front of you to get the full effect of his glare. "You think I care what plastic pieces they stuck on you? I'm not fucking sexist," he spat, cigarette balanced in his mouth while he spoke. "You're a goddamn mess of plastic, metal and wire. Made to look human, but nothin' could be further from the truth. And now I'm stuck with you." Carefully removing the cigarette, it was pressed to your temple, the side without the indicator, until it was snuffed out. The smoke in his lungs was slowly blown into your face. Neither action made you flinch. "Only time will tell if you turn out to be worth something."

The burn at the side of your head healed quickly. "The precinct paid $435,000 for my production, Detective."

"Waste of taxpayer money. Waste of resources. Waste of my time."

Searching his eyes, you asked with a touch of attitude, "Then how can I change your mind?"

"Find a new primary function, bitch."