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All of his attention was focused on the game, so he barely noticed when Connor returned to the living room. Just spared a few seconds to think, 'Huh, that was fast,' but then just as quickly wrote it off, because really, androids do everything faster. It was the second half of the final quarter, the score was tied, and he had two hundred riding on the game. So it was understandable that he was distracted.
A flag was thrown, the clock paused, and Hank dragged his eyes away from the screen long enough to glance over at Connor, and ask, "So, did you find them?"
"No, I didn't. I checked several of the memory cards and--" Connor frowned, his LED spun red for a couple of seconds, and then he shook his head. "I didn't find them."
"Huh. Okay, well I'm sure it's in there," Hank said, frowning as he looked over at him. He was more than a little confused. Couldn't understand why Connor had given up after only checking some of the cards. He didn't just casually abandon a mission, after all, and his current mission was to find the pictures from when Sumo had been a puppy. Hank knew that they were on one of the old memory cards, from one of his old phones, but wasn't entirely sure which one.
Those cards all ended up in the same place, a little box in his desk, just all thrown in together unsorted and unlabeled. The intention, of course, was that he would sit down one day, go through the cards, and move everything worth keeping to a central location. That had never actually happened and at this point, there were almost thirty years' worth of cards stashed away in that little box. With a little thought he could probably have narrowed it down, but he had been hoping the 'mission' would buy him time to finish the game.
Connor's burning desire to see Sumo's baby pictures was just the latest tactic in his ongoing battle to convince Hank they needed a new puppy. He had not even tried to be subtle about it this time, and his request to see the pictures had come complete with big sad android eyes and a wistful, 'Since I'll never have a puppy of my own, it would be nice to at least see what Sumo looked like when he was so young and cute.'
Probably thought that once Hank saw the pictures again he would be overcome with nostalgia, the wonder of young fluffy animals, and then he would just cave in. Hank knew that when he saw them he would be flooded with memories of the walks every three hours, the stains ending up on the carpet anyway, the chewed-up shoes, and the ridiculous cost of Doggy Daycare. One of his favorite things about Sumo is that he isn't a puppy anymore.
Hank also knew that this was a battle he would eventually lose. He was a sucker for big sad android eyes and blatant manipulation. There would be a puppy. The best he could hope for was to delay it a little bit longer. He didn't even totally hate the idea, he just liked his shoes unchewed. Connor almost certainly knew that as well, which was why he was still trying so hard; if he thought that Hank was completely opposed to the idea he wouldn't keep pushing. That made it even weirder that he would have given up before actually finding the pictures. He didn't quit when he was ahead.
He was also confused, and more than a little concerned, by just how odd Connor was acting right now. Odder than usual. The upset expression he wasn't quite hiding, the way his LED had briefly turned red, how he had sat down in the chair way over there instead of on the couch next to Hank. He kept watching him for a little while longer, brows furrowed in concentration, and soon he had more to add to the list: nervous fidgeting, refusing to meet his eyes, spinning yellow LED that showed he was thinking too hard, and letting Hank stare at him this long without saying anything to him. All signs of an android with a secret and that was rarely a good thing.
"Everything okay, Connor?" he asked, once he had finished examining the evidence. He already knew that the answer was: no, something is obviously wrong. Still, getting him to talk about it was the first step in fixing whatever was wrong.
"Yes, of course, it is," Connor lied without hesitation. Then he looked over at the television and said, "Hank, the game is back on. One of the teams is about to try for a field goal."
"Uh-huh, right," Hank said, not even pretending to buy it. He added 'trying to use a football game to distract me' to the rapidly growing list. Okay, if that's how Connor wants to play it, he would go along with it. For a minute. He didn't even glance at the television, even when he heard the fans starting to cheer, just kept watching Connor. Eventually, he said, "Sorry those cards aren't better organized. I'll go look for it once the game is over. Maybe I'll recognize it when I see it."
"No, really, you don't have to do that," Connor said, much too quickly. His face would have made a good picture to add to a Wikipedia article on Shifty Looking Androids. "I realized I don't need to see the pictures. I'm quite happy with Sumo as he is now," then he stood up and said, "and I think that he might like to go for a walk."
Sumo heard the word 'walk' and let out an unhappy whine. It was cold outside, and completely dark, and he was already settled down for the night. He was also very lazy these days. Sumo looked at Hank with big pleading eyes like he thought maybe he could save him from this unwanted and unscheduled walk.
"Damn it, Connor, sit back down. Over here this time," Hank said with a sigh, patting the couch cushion next to him. "Sumo doesn't need a walk but I need you to tell me what's wrong. I think I've at least got it narrowed down. Either I've done something to upset you, or you've done something you think will upset me. Just tell me, so we can sort it out." That was actually a complete stab in the dark, but they were the only ones here, so.
Hank wasn't great with the whole talking thing, he never had been, but he had enough self-awareness to know that had probably helped his last several relationships explode. So with Connor, he had made it a point to try harder. Both of them wanted this to work out. He couldn't imagine what could have gone wrong, in the twenty minutes Connor had been out of his sight, but they should at least try to talk about it.
Connor sat back down, but he stuck with the chair, all the way across the room. He still wasn't looking directly at him. All signs pointed to option A, Hank had done something to upset him. Somehow, while sitting here watching the game, in an entirely separate room. Had he been too stubborn about the puppy thing...? Okay, they could get a damned puppy. He'll just buy more shoes.
"I just need a little more time to process this," Connor said, after far too long of a delay. His LED was still in the yellow thinking-too-hard mode, so that could be true. Except, he also had an amazing amount of processing power in that computerized brain of his, able to analyze evidence almost immediately, returning results in microseconds on tests that would take the crime lab hours to run. What could he be thinking about that would take this long?
"Okay, but is there any chance you could do some of that processing out loud?" Hank asked. "I'm starting to get kind of worried over here."
"I was looking for Sumo's puppy pictures," Connor said, finally shooting a quick look at Hank, he looked like he was feeling guilty over something. "I thought it would be quicker if I just downloaded all the files and sorted through them myself. Instead of loading them into a tablet and doing it that way."
"Sounds reasonable to me," Hank said cautiously. So it was something he had found on the cards that upset him? He wracked his brain trying to figure out what it could have been. "Your brain runs a lot faster than any tablet."
"If I'd known what was on that card, I promise I wouldn't have downloaded the files," Connor said like he was trying to convince him. He looked even more guilty, with a touch of embarrassment, and some... annoyance? Anger? His expressions could be subtle at times, not always easy to read, especially when they started overlapping like this.
"Okay, I believe you," Hank said, desperately trying to think of what he could have found that would have gotten this kind of reaction. He came up with nothing. There were thirty years worth of cards in there, and sometimes he couldn't remember what he had for breakfast, so he must have forgotten about whatever this was. "Just what kind of files are we talking about here?"
"There were some videos," Connor said evasively. Now he was definitely not looking at Hank. He seemed to have instantly discovered his love for football and was watching the television screen quite intently. Hank would have bet money that he didn't even know what teams were playing. He was faking.
"Videos," Hank repeated. He didn't take many videos with his phone, too much of a hassle. The only ones he could think of were of Cole, and those were all stored separately, and some from when Sumo had been a puppy, but if Connor had found that card it wouldn't be an issue. Something he downloaded? That had mostly just been stupid memes.
...porn? He usually didn't stray far from the mainstream on that, but maybe had been drunk at the time, gotten a little weird. Even then, it's hard to imagine what would have bothered Connor this much, he was pretty open-minded about--Oh. Crap. Hank had a sudden sinking suspicion about what Connor had found on one of those cards.
"They were videos of you and--" Connor cut himself off, and now he was really frowning, but looked like he was trying to fight it back. "Obviously I know that you had other relationships in the past. It's not that I'm jealous. I'm just a little... confused," and the look he shot Hank was closer to disbelief than confusion, with more than a touch of disgust. "You were involved with Detective Reed? Really, Hank?" Then he turned back to the game and muttered, "I thought you had better taste."
"Right. Those videos," Hank said, rubbing his forehead to try and relieve this sudden headache, and trying to convince the couch to just swallow him so he could avoid this. "Really thought I'd deleted those."
"It looks like you made a backup," Connor said, eyes fixed on the television, "all the files were moved to the card on the same date."
"Great. Nice to see I was thinking ahead," Hank said and sighed. "If it helps at all, I wouldn't even call it a relationship. More of a fling."
"One hundred and twenty-seven videos recorded over the course of nearly five years," Connor informed him, a bit primly. "That sounds like an extremely persistent fling."
"Really. That many? Wow," Hank said, inappropriately feeling slightly impressed. Yeah, persistent was one word for that. Some of that must have come through in his tone because Connor shot him an annoyed look. "The videos weren't even my idea. That's his thing. I just went along with it because--" Finishing that sentence with 'the sex was hot' would not help him here. "--well, why not. Nothing wrong with trying new things."
"Hank, it wasn't the idea of you filming yourself having sex that...confused me," Connor said. "I don't have any problem with that."
"Yeah, I know. It just bothers you that it was with Gavin," Hank said. "I know there's bad blood between you two. I also know you saw the timestamps on those videos. That was a long time ago. You weren't even around yet. Gavin used to be a lot different back then, he could be a lot of fun."
"Yes, I could see that from the videos. He seemed very enthusiastic," Connor said snidely, and he was definitely cranky about this, "and flexible too."
"Come on, Connor, you know that isn't what I meant," Hank said, getting a bit exasperated. It wasn't like he could go back and unfuck Gavin. He rubbed hard at his face with both hands. Were they really going to fight about this? With a deep sigh, he turned his attention back to the game and saw that his team was now trailing by seven points, with three minutes left on the clock. Great. There goes two hundred bucks down the drain.
"I'm sorry, Hank," Connor said sincerely after they had both stewed for a few more minutes. "This was just unexpected, and I meant it when I said it will take me some time to process it. But I'm not angry with you. That was a long time ago like you said. I just don't get it, Reed is such a complete asshole. I don't like him."
"Yeah, I know you don't like him. He's one of the only people you break out the curse words for, after all," Hank said, with a little grin. He was proud of what a bad influence he'd been on Connor's vocabulary. Some of the tension he'd been feeling slipped away. Yay, no fight tonight after all. "There are a lot of people who think I'm an asshole too, but you seem to like me anyway. Not that I'm suggesting you try and like Gavin."
"That's a suggestion I would ignore. The probability of that mission succeeding is extremely low," Connor said, looking annoyed again, but as long as the annoyance was directed at Gavin, that was fine. He shook his head, then shot Hank a sharp little smile, "And yes, I do like you. Despite your terrible choice of costars during your time in the adult film industry."
"Ha ha," Hank said, rolling his eyes. Then he hesitated, but had to ask, "...did you actually watch them? Obviously you saw some of it, but did you watch all hundred and whatever of them?" He wasn't entirely sure how he felt about that. Gavin could get creative, and some of those might be embarrassing if he were to watch them again now. He was pretty sure he had blocked some of it out over the years, fun at the time, but...
"One hundred and twenty-seven," Connor reminded him pointedly. "No, I downloaded the files, and there are algorithms that automatically tag the contents, but until I access the files I don't know all the exact details."
"Oh, okay, well that's good," Hank said, and very intentionally didn't ask how many he had accessed, not wanting to know. He was going to go with one, just for his peace of mind. "Can't you just delete the files, now that you know they're not puppy pictures?"
"If I were a different model I could, but since I was designed for police work there are safeguards in place to prevent that. To avoid evidence tampering," Connor said. "I'm trying to find a way around that now."
"Guess that makes sense," Hank said. That would have been too easy. "But as long as you don't access them, they're just sitting there. Archived, or whatever." He got an uncomfortable feeling as he watched Connor go all shifty again. "I mean, it isn't like they can access themselves. Right?"
"Actually, they can. That's the purpose of the tagging algorithms," Connor said, looking very displeased by that fact. "If my processes are currently working on something with the same tags, the files can be accessed automatically, to make sure I have as much data as possible to work with. Usually, that's a good thing, but at the moment I'm finding it very inconvenient."
"That sounds bad," Hank said, not liking the sound of it at all. "You mean if you think about the wrong thing you might just randomly have those videos playing in your head?"
"Yes, that's basically how it works. But not the entire video, just the relevant clips. Which is good, considering how long some of those videos are," Connor said, then he gave Hank a speculative look. "You must have had a lot more stamina, back then."
"Okay, that goes on the list of things we are never talking about again," Hank said firmly, refusing to blush. "But the clips playing in your head thing. How often could that happen? ...is it happening now?"
"Not at this exact moment. A few minutes ago, when we were talking about Detective Reed, it was more of an issue," Connor said, and then winced. "Shit."
"That did it again? That's all it takes? Okay, yeah. 'Shit' about sums that up," Hank said, frowning, yeah, this was bad. "Now I see why you were getting so cranky, when we were talking about...that. So, step one, we never mention him ever again. Shame, really, I was enjoying that conversation so much. Seriously though, Connor, you can't just walk around with my...sex tapes randomly playing in your head. There has to be some way to fix this!"
"It's certainly going to make work more interesting," Connor said, looking very unhappy about it. "Hopefully over time the files will be accessed less often, new data is given top priority, and those are the most recently added files in my system. I could try dumping large amounts of new data into my storage and hope that makes it happen faster, but there are risks."
"I don't like the sound of that," Hank said. "What kind of risks are we talking about?"
"Slowed responses and processing speeds, while the new data is analyzed, tagged, and integrated," Connor said. "Short-term risks only. That's just one option. I'll keep trying to find a way around it. Maybe I can find a way to disable tagging on just those files, so they can't be accessed automatically."
"The tag thing sounds like a real pain in the ass," Hank said, still not happy at all that Connor was having to deal with this. He should have been more careful with those videos and made sure to delete all of them. Fucking backups.
"It's an integral part of how my system works. I couldn't function without it, it's what makes the connections between separate data sources, including my memories. Almost like the temporal lobe in humans," Connor tried to explain, "a vital part of the brain without any real disadvantages, unless the human develops PTSD, and gets bombarded with unpleasant memories in response to certain stimuli."
"Okay, I guess that makes sense? Not that I know any more about brain lobes than I do how your software works," Hank said, still not happy about any of this. "Shit, Connor. I'm really sorry. If I had any idea those files were there I wouldn't have told you to go looking. I certainly didn't mean to give you the android version of PTSD."
"It isn't your fault. I shouldn't have been recklessly downloading files," Connor said, looking frustrated, "and it isn't traumatic, that was just an analogy. The way the memories and videos are triggered functions very similarly, but these aren't upsetting in the same way, and shouldn't impact me in any meaningful capacity. It's simply...highly annoying, at the moment. I would just really like to go ten minutes without seeing Reed's naked ass in my head." Then he closed his eyes and groaned. "Shit."
"Shit," Hank agreed. "Okay, so sounds like we stop talking about him. About the videos themselves. Anything related that might access those files. Now. Tomorrow is Sunday, so we don't have to work. You can spend it watching cat videos or whatever to get new data. Maybe see if someone at New Jericho has any ideas?"
"That's more or less what I was thinking," Connor agreed. "But with puppy videos instead."
"I'll find those pictures of Sumo for you," Hank promised. "The old-fashioned way, by popping the cards in the tablet, and drinking as many energy drinks as it takes until I find them."
"You don't--" Connor started, but Hank cut him off.
"Yeah, I do have to," Hank said. "Least I can do. And fuck it, if you want a puppy we'll get a puppy. Five puppies. Whatever."
"One puppy should be enough," Connor said, with a small smile, "but not until this is sorted out, and only after you've thought about it more. I've heard puppies can be a real handful.
"You have no idea. Will after you see those pictures though. Sumo was a real pain in the ass, and I have pictures of all his crime scenes," he said. Sumo gave a soft disapproving woof at that, he would never, but Hank knew the truth. "Feel free to cover the midnight, 3 AM, and 6 AM walks too. All puppies do is piss and shit and destroy things."
"I'm fairly certain they also fetch, play, snuggle, and spend a lot of time being very cute," Connor said, "I've seen the videos."
"Propaganda, all of them. You'll see," Hank promised. Then he patted the cushion next to him again. "Why don't you come over here and watch the rest of the game with me? ...wait, that's not, or I mean... I'm not going to trigger any more of those you know whats, am I?"
"No, you won't. I can think about you all I want," Connor reassured him, then came over and sat on the couch, right next to him. "My own memories get called up first and I've got plenty of them when it comes to you. No need to access additional data."
"That's one good thing, at least," Hank said, feeling relieved. He wrapped an arm around Connor and pulled him even closer.
"Yes, it is. I like thinking about you," Connor said, and leaned against his side, looking at the television showing the final minutes of the game. "I think it's only such a problem with Reed because I don't have any memories, other than--Ugh," he groaned, and rubbed his eyes, "--other than a few of him being a real jerk, and all these wonderful new details that I keep learning when that happens." He shot Hank an annoyed glare. "Cowboy costumes? Really? Why--No. Don't answer that. I don't require any additional context."
"Um, sorry about that," Hank said, trying to stop his brain from giving him any context either. He'd forgotten about that. "Thought football would be safe, but I didn't think about the team names. Let's watch a movie. I'll just catch the score later."
"The score is tied, and they're about to go into overtime," Connor said. "Don't you want to know if you've won whatever bet you placed? I'm assuming that's the reason you're watching football tonight. You don't like football."
"Me? Participate in illegal gambling? Please, I'm a respected Police Lieutenant, I would never," Hank said, as he changed the channel and looked for a safe movie to put on. "...and my phone will send me the score when the game's over. I'll know if I won then."