the little things || Connor x Female!Reader [Detroit: Become Human]

chapter 11 || Tenant . [1]

JAN 25TH, 2039

PM 01:34:25

second person pov;

Had you known that the investigation was going to lead up to your complex, you would have been more mentally prepared to figure out what had happened.

Entering the apartment building, you felt an immediate chill. The AC in the lobby was at full max, as always, despite it being completely unnecessary and absurd. Why would the landlord decide to keep an AC on during the winter? As much as you'd like to complain, you decided not to — you don't often linger around this area anyways, and you've ignored it ever since you moved in. 

The elevator wasn't a very pleasant place either. There was no music to occupy the dead silence amongst the two other individuals who were with you, and it took a long while to get from the main lobby to your designated floor. You twiddled your fingers, checked your watch, breathed out a sigh and glanced down at the elevator number panel now and then. Hank had pressed on the number 4, which you recognized as the floor that you currently live on. It made you feel a bit nervous, considering that there was a supposed homicide that was said to have occurred recently, and you knew nothing of it. 

Ding!

The doors slowly opened to reveal a bland, empty corridor. The lights of this very hallway flickered contently now and then, though none of you paid any mind to it. Hank was the first to step out, the file with a specific address in his grasp, and soon you followed suite, alongside Connor.

Your heart skipped a beat as you passed your own apartment, and briskly made your way to the end of the hallway. Room 4B.

Hank raised his fist to door, and gave it a few knocks. 

You nervously glanced over to Connor, who looked back with a reassuring smile. Had you known that there was an individual suspected for homicide on your very own floor, you would have been much, much more prepared than you were now.

Surprisingly, an elderly woman peered through the opened crack of her doorway, curiously looking at what was before her. You were utterly startled at the sight — was she the suspected individual to all the reported homicide cases? 

"Oh, good day. What brings you all here?" She blinked, and gave you all a toothy smile. It's implied that she's a simple lady. A simple, friendly old lady.

"Uh, sorry to bother you, but we're investigators who've been getting some ... reports, from your neighbors." Hank rubbed the back of his neck as he does a quick glance towards you and Connor. 

Well, you certainly didn't write up those reports, and neither should Connor, considering that he's usually cooped up in your office whenever he gets the chance (for example: when he's not working, or when you two choose to stay home for the day). The office is at the farthest room, down the hallway, when you enter through the front door. And he keeps the door shut, too. It would be almost impossible for him to even do such a thing, to write up that report.

You knew someone from down this corridor, across this very apartment room, and they once invited you over to talk about such matters, but the memory in your head was quite hazy (considering that at the time, you assumed, the situation wasn't as bad as it is now). 

"Oh? I'm sorry, are we bothering them? Because, you see, we've never gotten a single complaint from them.. until now, I suppose." She was very apologetic and repentant sounding, with her head hung low so that her eyes didn't reach any of you, as they were glued to the beige carpet.

We? you thought, thinking it over for a moment.

Your train of thought, however, was diverted when she invited the three of you inside her humble abode. For a moment, you pondered if she was an incredibly clever and manipulative old woman, who knew how to act quite well. Wouldn't she be feeling nervous with the authorities around? If anything, she looked more ... relieved, and calm, and remained with her hospitable tenor.