hunger ; detroit: become human

seven

Cynthia

Evening of November 6th, 2038 - 6:45 PM

Cynthia was sitting in her living room, her laptop resting on her thighs and a glass of white wine sitting on the end table near the arm of her chair. Her phone was next to her wine glass, silent for the first time all day. As she was winding down for the evening, she decided to skim through the files she'd transferred earlier that afternoon. But as she opened her work folder, she noticed a few others within that folder, ones that hadn't been there yesterday. She nodded to herself and reached for her wine glass, bringing it to her lips and taking a slow sip. Setting the glass back down, she opened the first folder, one named RK800 SINVSS, and began to click through. Her eyes scanned the screen as she flicked through various documents, her head tilting slightly. There was an almost knowing smirk on her lips as she read through several system error and software instability messages, with the names 'Hank' and 'Valeria' repeated numerous times. There was a snapshot in the file, one of Connor's memories, of Valeria grabbing his tie and yanking him back, and a blue Software Instability message popped up, which he whisked away.

"Intriguing," she mumbled, reaching for her wine glass. She thumbed through a few more memory snapshots, of Connor protecting Valeria's body with his own, of him encouraging and catching her during their deviant chase, of him saving Hank Anderson's life, of him carrying Valeria off of the rooftop. Quite the eventful day for the RK800.

She clicked out of that folder and tucked it away, going to look through the main one she transferred to her laptop. She opened it up, and document after document popped up, and she had access to every single one. The first one she opened was a progress report of the first night she and Connor had arrived at the DPD, the night of the interrogation. To her surprise, there were a few software instability notes, and the reasoning behind them, while logical, irritated her for some reason.

"So... He's considered ineffective if he shows compassion, which got the suspect to confess. Ruthlessness has never gotten cops anywhere good," she muttered, going into the file and typing something quickly. She hit the enter key, and before her eyes, the report itself changed, now showing a positive reflection of the night.

"Better," she said, clicking out of it and closing her laptop. She set it aside and took her glass again, bringing it to her lips so she could finish the rest of her wine, then brought the glass back into the kitchen so she could wash it out. Setting it down to dry, she left the kitchen, going to grab her laptop so she could plug it in for the night, and she grabbed her phone to slip it into her pocket. She had agreed to take nights off from working too much, despite her better judgement. There was always too much to do, yet very little time to do it. She made her way into the bathroom, the tile floor cool on her bare feet. She looked at herself in the mirror, her fingers trailing over the dainty diamond necklace that rested just at the hollow of her throat. With a soft hum, she let her hair down from its ponytail and shook it out, running her fingers through it gently, minding any knots. She grabbed the brush from the counter and ran it through her hair afterwards, smiling at herself. Maybe she would wear it down for a few days, or maybe she'd go get a bit cut off. After all, change was good for the soul. In her pocket, her phone buzzed, so she slipped it out and looked down at the screen with a small smile.

'I'll be home with dinner soon. Sorry to keep you waiting.'

'Don't rush, I'm a patient woman.'

'You always have been. One of the many reasons why I love you.'

'Sap. I love you, too.'

Cynthia slipped her phone back into her pocket and made her way to the bedroom, unfastening the clasp of her necklace as she walked. She walked to her dresser and opened up her jewellry box and carefully set the necklace inside on one of the hooks closest to the front. She closed the box up before shimmying out of her skirt and unbuttoning her blouse. She set them both aside on her side of the bed, then walked to her dresser, opened the top drawer, and pulled out a pair of sleep shorts and a much too large for her t-shirt. She slipped both of them on just as she heard the front door open, and she smiled to herself. Running her fingers through her hair once more, she rolled her shoulders and left the room, eager to meet her darling after a long day of work.