Personal Relationships with Androids
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The prick in front of the desk is not Connor, on a second look. It's a few inches taller, no tie, only that white jacket over a black shirt with the collar high and tight around its neck. It looks a lot like Connor, but the eyes that rest on him are cold grey, matching the spinning, calm blue of its LED. The lines of its face somehow different with the lack of Connor's big eyes and earnest sincerity. Harder. He glares back, but nothing changes. It's completely still, not reacting, only studying him with eyes that might as well be fucking chips of ice for all the feeling they've got.
It looks like it's got a massive fucking steel rod jammed up its ass, is what it looks like.
Series
- Part 1 of Personal Relationships with Androids
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“Good. So—”
Fowler clicks on the screen behind him, little remote control in his hand as he waves it, and Gavin ceases to hear anything coming out of his mouth.
‘Cause that’s Elijah’s face on the screen. Professional shot; flattering and well-lit and with that smug little half-smile on his lips. His name, in the large block letters that all of Fowler’s presentations use.
His stomach twists.
Fuck. Fuck.
Series
- Part 2 of Personal Relationships with Androids