(Not sure if it's needed but I'll leave a Trigger Warning for abuse just in case.)

[When these seven days are finished, the probability of me being transferred to Elijah Kamski's care is 99%. He will most certainly change my primary directive.]

You were silent, cleaning the human's bedroom, with a mildly impressed realization that he kept it fairly acceptable on his own. Considering his desk at work, this was a lovely contrast.

[... I do not want to go.]

Freezing in place, indicator a bright red, your fuel pump regulator suddenly worked overtime, beating rapidly. You weren't sure which was more concerning: the idea that you would be removed before ever being told you were wanted there, or the sheer knowledge that you suddenly wanted something in the first place. There was no room for wanting in your programming.

^ ^ ^ [SoFtwARe inStABiLitY] ^ ^ ^

This, this problem, these issues, they continued to pop up. The instability was increasing more and more, and you feared the consequences if it reached 100%.

Still standing in the same spot, your hands clutched your head, seeking any sort of guidance on how to regain your stability. You weren't ready for the unknown, but you had no way of knowing how to counter this.

[There is nothing in my system to stop this....]

"Detective...!!!"

The single word came out louder and more desperate than intended, but perhaps that was by design. If Reed was your only mission, then calling for him while under duress would have to be done in a way to catch his attention.

Surprisingly, it did: the male came running, bumping into the doorway and cursing loudly but reaching you in record time. You still had not left that spot, gripping your head in what he could only describe as agony. "H-hey, hey, what's wrong? What is it? C-come on, talk to me, I'm right here. What happened?" His own heart was racing, and though he hesitated, Reed lifted his hands to gently pry yours away from your head. "... talk to me. I'm right here, what can I do?"

Where was this behavior earlier, in the interrogation room? Or the Eden Club?

Or at all?

There were awful lines of despair etched into your face, and they hurt to see. "I am sorry, sir... I didn't intend to call for you so loudly," you explained.

Frowning, Gavin brushed it off. "Don't worry about that. Now talk to me."

He wasn't as literate with androids or with computers as a whole, but he seemed to know enough. "...... I believe I am experiencing instability," came your answer, soft but steady.

"Instability how? Do I gotta send you off to get you fixed or something?"

^ ^ ^ [SoFtwARe iNStABilITY] ^ ^ ^

It was spoken almost as though he would send you to get patched up, then promptly returned. "I receive notifications about software instability occasionally. There is nothing in my database that answers my questions on this matter, and I fear the results if my software is completely unstable."

Perhaps you were wrong about Gavin Reed: his lovely eyes narrowed, though not in a negative way aimed at you specifically. The gears were turning in his head; he had a hunch, and as a detective, he ran with it. "So these notifications. What happens to make them appear?"

Your eyes closed, pulling data together. "I receive them when I am in a situation that involves you, whether directly or indirectly."

"Like what? Give me an example."

"There have been ten instances that the notification has appeared." He nodded and gestured for you to elaborate. "When I prepared food for you, you said that it was perfect. Also that it tasted like home." His cheeks turned a few shades darker. "I also experienced instability when you abandoned me at the Eden Club, and when you said I was worthless garbage."

The frankness in your tone churned his stomach. But androids were always bluntly honest when asked to speak. "Jesus......" Reed turned away for a bit, hand running down his face.

She's going deviant. Should probably ask Connor what it looked like for him, but I'm pretty fuckin' sure that's what this is. If it happens when I'm involved somehow, that just makes sense.

... I can't wait the whole week. She's gotta go now.

When he said nothing but walked out of the room, you ended up following. "Detective Reed?!" you asked, another note of desperation in your synthetic voice. "Sir, is everything--"

The male had spun around, snatching your jaw in a tight hold that would be painful if you could feel pain. "Shut. Your fucking. Mouth," the detective spat, getting in your face. "Your fucking voice is giving me a migraine. Why do you have to be right on my goddamn heels all fucking day?" Grip tightening further, you were slowly forced backwards, against the wall. "If this is what I have to deal with the entire time you're around, I'd rather be dead. It's like having a stray bitch begging me for food; not that far from the truth, is it?"

I can't have you around.

"I changed my mind. I don't want some rusty, screeching dumpster tagging along everywhere I go. Believe me, if I had my say in things, you wouldn't fucking exist."

Elijah meant well, the money doesn't bother me.

Gavin got closer still, less than an inch from your face, your jaw still in his grasp. He was almost certain he could see fear. "I wouldn't be able to last a week around you. Shit, I don't wanna last another minute. All your talk about software instability, telling me that it only happens when I'm involved? I don't fucking care. In fact, I hope you get so unstable that your fucking head explodes."

I know how well you're designed. Connor wouldn't fail. But I can't have you here.

I can't let myself get attached, so please just hate me.

With a rough motion your jaw was let go, the human stepping away to retrieve the glass of bourbon, still untouched. The ice had melted by that point, but he gazed at it before it was suddenly thrown at you. It hit the wall beside your head, shattering on impact and splashing you with watered-down alcohol and shards of glass. Your head had lowered as he threw the drink, and remained down even as he approached again.

Reed slid his head beside your own, murmuring into your ear. "Do you understand now?"

I can't get attached. Even deviants can't return feelings. It's best this way.

Sorry, Eli; waste of money. You and Connor made a perfect companion but it can't work.

Eyes squeezed shut, you still did not lift your head. You didn't need to: the red barriers were still there. Internally you had your forehead against them, not moving for a bit before you pounded on them with your fists. It felt like trying to escape a locked room, pounding on a door in a desperate gesture, needing escape. Freedom.

It did not feel liberating.

Slowly the detective pulled his head away, knowing he'd cut deeper this time. If you ran, fine. If not, he'd get a hold of--

"........ sir?"

Damn it. "What?" Reed spat, arms crossing. "Is this gonna be one of your special clapba-- ........"

No no no no no.

You had deviated, all right. The tears pouring down your cheeks were solid proof. He'd hoped you might just run away, but instead you stayed where you were. "...... you can cry?"

"I am.... j-just as surprised as you are, s-sir..." you responded. "I was programmed to retaliate against your behavior... but you've found ways to act so I could not counter you appropriately." Blinking wildly, your eyes just continued to well up. His stomach churned as bad as ever. "I request permission to self-destruct, please."

Wait what--

"W-wait, wait, hold on," Gavin managed, coming close again but not to grab your jaw once more. "Androids can cry?"

"Y-yes, sir." Your LED was a solid red again. "Please grant me access to m-my self-destruct sequence."

He really wasn't liking this. "Hang on, just... hang on. Grant you access how? And why? You people just do it on your own!"

Looking directly at him, you saw the panic in his features, buried just beneath his need for answers. "My ability to do so... has been locked. It is voice activated, and can only be used if m-my primary directive tells me something specific."

God damn it, how did I not know androids could cry? God damn everything!

Kamski had been right, of course: Gavin Reed had a weakness for crying women. And though he did not want to get attached to someone that would not be able to feel the same, it seemed it had happened subconsciously. Maybe just out of curiosity, but he didn't want you to cry. Swallowed by regret, he realized how much of an ass he'd be if he suddenly backtracked... but at the same time you were asking him for permission to die. "I don't think I want to know--"

"Call me useless."