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The atmosphere in the bullpen of the DPD was tense. There was a carefully constructed white noise in the air as all of the officers on shift attempted to behave normally, to go about business as usual, to try not to stare. It was one of those rare times that Hank could recall when the entire precinct seemed to unite, to set aside their rough edges and conflicting opinions, to find camaraderie in this unorthodox situation that had been thrust upon them.
It had been tense for the past twenty minutes, since Chris had speed walked into the office with his back too straight and his eyes too wide, and his voice a rapid whisper as he warned them all.
“He hasn’t noticed yet. Don’t say anything. He’s already suspicious. He doesn’t know. Shh!”
Before Hank or Tina or any of the other cops milling around could say anything, Connor had entered the bullpen, looking perplexed and irritated as he caught up to Chris.
“Officer Miller, did I say something offensive? You locked me in the patrol car and ran away…”
At least, that’s what Hank thought he said, he was too distracted by the violent shade of pink that had colored all of Connor’s hair. Across the aisle, Tina looked up, barked out a laugh, and clamped both hands over her mouth.
Chris fidgeted, schooling his expression before turning back to Connor. “I didn’t mean to. Sorry, man, must have accidentally hit the lock fob.” He fiddled with the car keys in his hand.
Connor narrowed his eyes at Chris before looking over to Tina. “Officer Chen? Are you all right?”
Tina had hidden her reddening face behind the ridiculously thick book that she’d cracked open on her desk. She lifted up one hand in an okay sign.
“Connor.” Hank forced his voice to stay even, to keep the smile off his face. “How’d, uh, how’d patrol go? Anything interesting happen?”
Connor looked from Tina to Hank and…oh shit…the violent pink was changing in front of his very eyes to a bright neon yellow. Chris quickly looked away, unable to keep a straight face. Hank gawked for a moment before remembering himself. He flattened his expression.
“In fact, we were called to the scene of an attempted mugging,” Connor informed. “The suspect fled the scene, but not before putting up a bit of a fight.”
“He threw a brick at your head,” Chris added. “Got you pretty good too.”
Hank’s eyebrows went up. “You took a brick to the head? Are you okay?”
Connor looked at him passively. “I’m undamaged.”
The neon yellow began to darken to a burnt orange shade. Highlights of galaxy purple mixed in with the orange. Hank’s face must have betrayed him, because Connor started to look concerned.
“Are you all right, Lieutenant? You seem to be having trouble focusing.”
“Uh, yeah, I’m…” Hank blinked and shook his head. “It’s just been a long day. So…uh…you get anything on your mugger? It’s not like you to lose a suspect.”
The hair suddenly went stark white, and the texture changed to something curly and slightly frizzy. Tina hissed to hide her laughter as she ducked further behind her book. Chris rubbed a hand aggressively over his jaw to mask his own amusement. Connor was looking directly at Hank, so all the pressure was on him not to blow this.
Connor was starting to look suspicious though. “Am I missing something? Why is everyone…”
“Connor!” Fowler boomed from the door to his office, straight faced and not missing a beat. “I thought you left that report on the Linetti case in my office.”
“No, sir, Officer Person took it to the archive room.”
“Well, I need it. Get it to me sometime today.”
“Yes, sir.” Connor immediately crossed the bullpen, drawing several swiveled heads and bugged eyes after him, and ducked into the archive room.
Hank watched him go and then looked back at Fowler. The captain spread his hands out and mouthed “what the fuck?”
Then Connor was coming back with flaming red hair this time, and everybody peeled off, falling into the white noise that established that NO ONE was going to say anything to Connor about this. They had been given a rare gift, and they were going to ride this as long as they could.
Twenty minutes later, and best that Hank could figure, the brick to the brain had done some damage to whatever hardware in Connor’s head controlled his synthetic appearance. His healing program would probably fix it by the end of the day. The color, length, and texture of his hair changed every few minutes, and Hank couldn’t decide if it was based on his mood or if it was just random…and he couldn’t decide which was funnier.
What the Hell kind of mood would cause mint green?
Connor abruptly looked up from his terminal and locked eyes with Hank, catching him staring. “What?”
“What?” Hank parroted back dumbly.
Connor narrowed his eyes. “What?”
“What what?” Hank repeated, folding his arms and shrugging.
“Why is…” Connor glanced around, catching a few wandering eyes that didn’t look away fast enough. “I’m being stared at.”
“…No, you’re not,” Hank argued.
Connor deadpanned and sat up straighter. “I don’t appreciate being lied to, Hank. Is there something going on that I need to be aware of?”
Hank pressed his lips together, looking past Connor briefly and meeting eyes with Officer Person, who shook her head and walked away.
“Connor,” Hank changed tact, leaning back in his seat. “What do you have in your database about…mood rings?”
Chris made a loud coughing noise to cover up a laugh.
Connor looked confused. His gaze slid slightly to the left as his program worked, and then he focused on Hank again. “A jewelry fad originating in the 1970s, using crystals that changed colors due to changes in skin temperature of the wearer…Different colors were interpreted to represent different moods. I…don’t see why that’s relevant.”
Hank scratched his chin. “Yeah. Do you remember what…” He glanced at Connor’s changing hair again. “What did, uh, say…Pepto Bismol pink mean?
Connor frowned. “My search didn’t indicate shades of pink…Lieutenant, is this pertinent?”
“No, I’m just…I think I need some caffeine. You wanna get me a cup of coffee?” Hank said.
He needed a break from staring at this spectacle or he was going to lose it. Connor’s expression looked far too sincere, framed by what was now turning into Cheeto orange hair.
Connor blinked, shrugged, and stood. “Very well. The usual?”
“Nothin’ usual about this,” Hank muttered.
“What?”
“What what?”
“…” Connor stared at him with a look of defeat, turned, and crossed the bullpen into the break room.
Several sets of eyes followed him, and they all snapped back to look at Hank with identically amused smiles.
Hank turned back to his computer with a shake of his head, just in time to hear Connor from the break room.
“Hello, Detective Reed.”
“WHAT THE FUCK?!”