QUOTE COMPENDIUM ⊳ connor x reader

Ch. I

Even twenty-one years into deviancy, Connor couldn't exactly say he had a strong opinion regarding things. Sure, he despised Gavin, he enjoyed Markus' presence, he had a soft spot for dogs. But Connor couldn't say he'd ever hated something, with every fibre of his being, in a manner that made his blood boil at the very thought of it.

That was, until Hank died.

That specific day, August 4th 2056, was still engraved into his mind, like burn marks on a piece of wood, or holes in a piece of metal. It wasn't something that he could remove. Just something he could hope to ignore. And God, if there was one thing Connor hated, absolutely abominated, it was the sentiment it had left behind.

A feeling of utter emptiness, numb, yet painful, right in the pit of his stomach, below his Thirium pump. Of course its intensity fluctuated. Sometimes, when Connor would be out in town, walking around aimlessly with Markus, North, Simon and Josh, it'd barely be there, like a soft string tied to his wrist and tugging him away from the other Androids' company, into a solitude he didn't want, but at the same time, needed. Other times, it was intense, like a punch in the gut, (one much more forceful than Gavin could ever muster) especially whenever Connor looked at pictures of Hank, or Sumo, or even Cole. And to think it had been present for the past three years—it was pathetic, Connor knew that. He had heard it enough times from Gavin.

So there he was: trying to escape said feeling, driving Hank's old car. Where to? He had no idea.

His yearly, one-day road trips seemed to be growing into a tradition of sorts, perhaps an act of commemoration. This was the third time he was doing it, and Connor had to admit it was calming.

The car still smelled of the car freshener Hank used back when he was alive, Connor had specifically taken care of that. He had bought exactly twenty-seven pine-tree scented packages of said brand as soon as the familiar, nostalgic smell started fading.

But it wasn't the same. It smelled synthetic, fake, and too perfect, unlike the scent he had grown accustomed to for years, which contained traces of bitter cigar ash, a subtle, salty smell of junk food, and gunpowder. The mix used to be...alive, even somehow told a story, unlike the current one.

Nothing was the same ever since Hank had passed away.

With a mechanical grunt, Connor focused back on the dotted white highway lines disappearing under the hood of his car as he accelerated.

The speed was maintained a stable 80 km/h. The minutes flew by without Connor noticing, and before he knew, something in the corner of his eye caught his attention.

Aaron's 24/7 Grilled Fish Diner was written in big, bold letters, suspended on top of a rather small, humble building. The walls were painted in an inviting ivory, and Connor noticed a small lake nestled behind the building. A quick analysis told him it was suspected to be used for pisciculture.

He urged the car to a slow halt, then guided it inside the parking lot. A break sounded nice. Connor took a quick look at his internal clock, which prompted up the numbers 2:37 AM. Well, hopefully said place wasn't called a 24/7 diner for nothing.

He stopped the car, retrieved the keys, then reached for a black hoodie thrown on the backseat. He slipped said clothing article on: it hung loosely over his lithe frame, and on its back, it displayed a bald man wielding a sword and walking through flames, "Knights of the black death" written in bold letters on top of it. He pulled up the hood, adjusting it just enough to conceal his LED, then made his way into the restaurant.

Why exactly was he trying to hide that fact that he was an Android? He didn't know. At least not yet.

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Connor opened the door with ease, stepping inside the humble diner. It was clean and spacious inside, however the furniture and wooden floor's glory days were long gone. That much was clear, even in the dim light of a cheap, flickering lightbulb. On the wall right in front of him, Connor noticed a painting of a fish, hanging above one of the bigger tables in the dining room. All in all, it was welcoming, in spite of the lack of money spent on the interior.

The Android heard voices coming from around the corner of a wall, where he assumed the kitchen was. Connor decided to listen in to the conversation for a bit before making his presence known.

"Darlin', ya know I mean no offense, but you look awful. Go to sleep." An elderly, gentle voice spoke up, soon followed by another.

"What if someone comes in? This is still my shift, and I should be awake." An obviously younger, yet very drowsy voice answered.

"I'll wake you up if someone comes, how's that sound?" The elder suggested.

"You'd do that for me? Agh, you're a godsend. Thank you." He heard a relieved sigh, then the creaking of wood. Steps clattered against the old floor.

From around the corner appeared a young woman, in her mid-twenties, Connor presumed. He performed a quick face scan.

(Y/n) (l/n)
Age: 26
Criminal record: Speeding

She stopped mid-track as soon as she caught a glimpse of him, perplexed and annoyed at the same time.

"Never mind Ollie, there's a customer." She shouted over her shoulder, then turned her attention back to Connor, who was still speechless. "Hello."

"Hi." Connor spoke, dumbfounded. There was something ...different about her. Connor had seen enough females in his lifetime, whether that implied human females, or Androids designed to be as aesthetically pleasing as possible. Yet none of them had left him so...fascinated.

"Any preferences for tables? We're kinda full at the moment." She joked with a hint of sarcasm, nodding at the soullessly empty dining room. Connor picked up on her irony rather quickly. Spending 18 years around Hank did have its advantages when it came to understanding irrational human behavior.

"Not exactly." He answered. A tired, yet playful smile tugged on her lips as she rested one hand on her hip.

"Good. Follow me, then."