[ Connor appreciates being validated about his color preferences, basic as they could be considered. It makes his smile a little broader, a little clumsier. Hanks again hits on a petname from his roster that Connor is catching himself developing a preference for, and Connor feels a flurry of unpredictable effects; his 'heartbeat' stutters and he wants, with fierce intensity, to just kiss Hank and maybe crawl into his lap and--]
I am doing my utmost to remain... well behaved. I want to touch you so badly... but I want that privileged information, too
[ The feeling of Hank touching his hand devours insidious amounts of his attention; he could forget why he's here, that they've got a very important appointment to keep, that he's sitting in a car in a public parking-lot, all because he's got to focus on holding still while Hank touches him. He presses his teeth into his own bottom lip as Hank's hand curls around the back of his neck and he wants that last breath of space between them gone but he wants to win this game, too.
He makes a restless, faintly frustrated, flustered hum that is not quite a groan.]
You're enjoying my distress, aren't you? I suppose that's fair. Though I'm not trying to tease you. I just really want to kiss you, and this is as far as I could get without breaking our rules
[ The kiss to his forehead brings a strange flurry of sensations, whirring around him like a cyclone of colorful petals. It's not enough, but it is. Connor wants more, but just this much is perfectly imperfect, too. His expression goes dreamy and he looks entirely enamored, a cobra strung on a charmer's tune. ]
Hank... [ and the feeling only intensifies when he says how special Connor makes his life. All his proclivity for sharp wit and smooth charm fly right out the window and he just looks at Hank like he's writing love-songs in the back of his head. Hearing such a personal, genuine confession... it's at least on tier with how humans view 'I love you's, if not... more valuable, somehow. At least to Connor. ] I'm honored to be someone who makes your life feel special.
[ Connor almost forgot the weight of his cargo in his lap; it doesn't quite startle him to find it there, but he had been so hung up, so wrapped inside all the data of Hank that everything else shifted out of focus. ]
Right... It would be especially poor time management to end up late, now
[ Connor climbs out of the car with most of his usual grace, keeping the large black box tucked securely under his arm. The parking lot is not overly crowded and half the shops are closed, but their destination, 'Andy's Android Alcove' is brightly lit by a few animated neon signs. Finally being in range of the destination, Connor feels a small shock of-- what? Excitement? That's definitely part of it. He comes around to Hank's side of the car, if only for the familiar comfort of walking beside him as they approach the barred glass door.
It opens automatically from the inside-- not a smooth sideways-swish but some kind of jerry-rigged Lego-arm, pushing open the swinging door from inside. Connor is faintly charmed by the creative novelty, and he enjoys being able to step inside beside Hank, too.
Inside, it's actually an android making a scrap-book behind the cramped front desk. He's a hulking model, taller than Connor, broader than Hank, but he's taking very careful care in placing stickers on the pages of his scrap book.
Upon seeing Connor and Hank, he straightens up, smiles broadly, and greets them. After a few minutes of chatting with Connor (and not asking Hank to sign anything) the tall tech-savvy android invites both Hank and Connor into the back room. ]
Would it be terribly ill behaved of me to take your hand, for a moment?
[ He's still teasing gently, but a small grain of apprehension has worked it's way into Connor's voice. As they step together into the back room, he easily spots the machine he's going to get plugged into, a circular-hub with needle-like arms that spin around the center-point-- soon to be him. ]
I'm usually not awake for maintenance
[ He tells Hank, curious over his own excess of caution as Android Andy pops the lid off Connor's parcel, looks mildly impressed, and then starts casually plugging the entire thing into an open panel on the maintenance hub. ]
no subject
I am doing my utmost to remain... well behaved. I want to touch you so badly... but I want that privileged information, too
[ The feeling of Hank touching his hand devours insidious amounts of his attention; he could forget why he's here, that they've got a very important appointment to keep, that he's sitting in a car in a public parking-lot, all because he's got to focus on holding still while Hank touches him. He presses his teeth into his own bottom lip as Hank's hand curls around the back of his neck and he wants that last breath of space between them gone but he wants to win this game, too.
He makes a restless, faintly frustrated, flustered hum that is not quite a groan.]
You're enjoying my distress, aren't you? I suppose that's fair. Though I'm not trying to tease you. I just really want to kiss you, and this is as far as I could get without breaking our rules
[ The kiss to his forehead brings a strange flurry of sensations, whirring around him like a cyclone of colorful petals. It's not enough, but it is. Connor wants more, but just this much is perfectly imperfect, too. His expression goes dreamy and he looks entirely enamored, a cobra strung on a charmer's tune. ]
Hank... [ and the feeling only intensifies when he says how special Connor makes his life. All his proclivity for sharp wit and smooth charm fly right out the window and he just looks at Hank like he's writing love-songs in the back of his head. Hearing such a personal, genuine confession... it's at least on tier with how humans view 'I love you's, if not... more valuable, somehow. At least to Connor. ] I'm honored to be someone who makes your life feel special.
[ Connor almost forgot the weight of his cargo in his lap; it doesn't quite startle him to find it there, but he had been so hung up, so wrapped inside all the data of Hank that everything else shifted out of focus. ]
Right... It would be especially poor time management to end up late, now
[ Connor climbs out of the car with most of his usual grace, keeping the large black box tucked securely under his arm. The parking lot is not overly crowded and half the shops are closed, but their destination, 'Andy's Android Alcove' is brightly lit by a few animated neon signs. Finally being in range of the destination, Connor feels a small shock of-- what? Excitement? That's definitely part of it. He comes around to Hank's side of the car, if only for the familiar comfort of walking beside him as they approach the barred glass door.
It opens automatically from the inside-- not a smooth sideways-swish but some kind of jerry-rigged Lego-arm, pushing open the swinging door from inside. Connor is faintly charmed by the creative novelty, and he enjoys being able to step inside beside Hank, too.
Inside, it's actually an android making a scrap-book behind the cramped front desk. He's a hulking model, taller than Connor, broader than Hank, but he's taking very careful care in placing stickers on the pages of his scrap book.
Upon seeing Connor and Hank, he straightens up, smiles broadly, and greets them. After a few minutes of chatting with Connor (and not asking Hank to sign anything) the tall tech-savvy android invites both Hank and Connor into the back room. ]
Would it be terribly ill behaved of me to take your hand, for a moment?
[ He's still teasing gently, but a small grain of apprehension has worked it's way into Connor's voice. As they step together into the back room, he easily spots the machine he's going to get plugged into, a circular-hub with needle-like arms that spin around the center-point-- soon to be him. ]
I'm usually not awake for maintenance
[ He tells Hank, curious over his own excess of caution as Android Andy pops the lid off Connor's parcel, looks mildly impressed, and then starts casually plugging the entire thing into an open panel on the maintenance hub. ]