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"We're going out."
The sound of Hank's voice makes Connor look up from the television, glancing between the man and the dog on a leash. "Sumo had a bath yesterday," he points out, wondering if Hank forgot about that or if he has other plans.
"City's looking better, he needs a walk," Hank answers and Sumo barks in agreement, pawing at the door excitedly until Hank shushes him.
Better means, in this case, clear of both android and human carcasses, no more bodies or blood painting the Detroit streets with the horrors of human fear and losses of android revolution. The city has been calm for a while, but identifying everyone, numerous as the casualties are, has been a long, painful process.
They're not fine, but things are looking up.
Connor has never seen Hank take Sumo for a walk, but the prospect seems interesting. A man of Hank's age should get more exercise than he does, Connor concluded shortly after joining Hank in his routine, and this is an interesting way to do it. It helps that he's fond of Sumo, of course.
He turns the TV off and stands, ready to join them, and though Hank raises an eyebrow, he waits for him by the door.
The air outside is no different than it had been in the prior days, the wind chilly as expected from the end of winter, but the city doesn't look as empty. There isn't as much life in it as what Connor had seen while investigating deviancy with Hank, which doesn't make it any less pleasant to see the few people walking freely through the Detroit streets.
Their walk takes them to a nearby park. There’s more fresh air and trees hair and Connor finds himself instantly fond of it, though maybe not quite as much as Sumo, who, to his surprise, barks joyfully and wags his tail as he waits to be let out of his leash. Hank lets him out and Sumo runs off, tempting Connor to run after him, but the older man, seeing the look on his face, places a hand on his shoulder.
“He’ll come back. He needs freedom too.”
Of course Sumo does. Connor feels silly for not having considered it sooner - Sumo isn’t human, but a dog, he has many needs like any person and android. Obviously he, too, would enjoy the feeling of belonging to nothing but the earth under his paws, the question of what comes next and the answer that might be anything at all.
Hank sits at a bench and he follows. There’s a slight breeze that makes Hank huff and rub his hands while Connor barely notices, instead watching. Not many, but there are children playing, adults chatting, people living on with their lives - and androids, he notices. There aren’t many of them, he suspects they’re wary of leaving their hard earned safe haven, but those he sees look happy, tranquil. He hadn’t known androids could emulate emotions so well until then.
He must have been lost in thought for a while because the sun is above them when Sumo comes back, slobbering on Hank’s pants. “You tired?” The man asks him despite the fact Sumo can’t answer him or understand the words. They’d been through this, though, and Connor just watches them in amusement as Sumo licks Hank’s hand excitedly. “Guess not.”
Hank chuckles and grabs a small toy he’d had shoved in his pocket. Connor blinks in surprise when Hank stands up and throws it, staring at Hank. “Why would you do that?” He asks, horrified. Sumo runs after the toy as best as he can, but Connor can’t look away from Hank, who just denied the poor dog his toy. Not only that, but he taunted the animal with it before throwing it away and making him run after it. Hank, who Connor sees as such a kind, if rough around the edges, man, can’t possibly have done that for fun, and yet here he is, grinning.
“What do you mean?” He asks, confused.
“You didn’t give him the toy!” Connor exclaims, rattled. “You showed him you had it and you threw it out of his reach. Hank, that’s not very nice. Stop laughing!”
To his benefit, Hank’s chortle turns into small chuckles as he stares at the deviant. “Relax, Connor. I’m not hurting him or anything like that - this is something humans do to play with their pets. Throw something and they’ll catch it. Hell, we’ve got whole sports based on that. It’s not cruel or anything like that, look-” Sumo bounds back to them with the toy and drops it at Hank’s feet. “See? He wants to go again.” Hank takes the toy and offers it to Connor. “Try it.”
Eyeing the toy suspiciously, Connor takes it. He looks down at the dog and, taking pity on him, places the toy on the ground at it. Sumo looks down at it briefly but pays it no mind, looking back up at Connor and wagging his tail. It confuses him to no end, but he decides to try Hank’s method - he picks up the stuffed rodent and throws it and, surely enough, Sumo runs after it.
“That’s ridiculous,” Connor notes, even if he can’t deny that Hank is right, now.
“It’s a good way to get exercise.”
Oh. That’s a better explanation for why Hank did it and maybe it works for why Sumo, too, likes it. Exercise . Something needed by carbon based lifeforms, like Hank, a man who takes no care of his health.
Connor puts two and two together and understands what Hank is trying to ask of him.
“I understand perfectly, Lieutenant,” Connor replies, smiling slightly now that he knows what is happening. He likes understanding things, even if they are odd facts about humans and their companions. “May I have your phone?”
Hank looks puzzled but nonetheless reaches into his other pocket and takes out the phone, handing it to Connor. Connor, who takes the object from him and doesn’t look at it before he repeats the prior motions and tosses it away.
A great many emotions go through Hank’s face in one second and Connor’s scanner picks up on every one of them. Shock, mild fear, surprise, anger, confusion, rage, a strange contorted thing he has no name for, anger, frustration, back to anger.
“Connor, what the fuck ?”
It’s definitely anger. “You said it was a good way of getting exercise. You need exercise.”
Hank looks offended at that and makes a face, pointing at Connor. “Listen here, you--” He puts his finger down, makes a defeated sound, and goes get his phone. He looks calmer when he comes back - Sumo had beat him back despite the fact his toy had been thrown much farther, as Connor knew it could resist where Hank’s phone could not - but not by any means pleased. “Connor, that’s not how it works,” he says, sitting on the bench again.
Connor blinks and keeps petting Sumo as he asks, “how does it work?”
“Not like that ,” Hank answers, quite pointless, and huffs. “You do it for pets, not people. Not unless they want you to throw something, and they usually ask you to throw it at them.”
He’s still confused and he knows he’ll need a better explanation later, but he nods, willing to give Hank the time he needs to find adequate words and possibly a movie about this.
“C’mon, throw the ball for Sumo again.” That he can do and he watches as the dog runs after the ball again, the activity just as exciting to him as it had been the first time he did it.
One step at a time, he’s learning.