▌ ▲▐ ───── Seven days.
That was how long it had been since their last encounter. Seven days, thirteen hours, forty-three minutes, ten seconds.
Eleven…
Twelve…
Xander sat at his desk within the Detroit Police Station, idly mulling over case files. A hand rested upon the terminal to facilitate a connection, eyes glanced over the screen, interested as he scrolled. The android wasn’t reading any of them, merely amusing himself in an attempt to keep his mind from wandering too deeply towards the events of that night, to the friend who had been left behind at her own request. In that time Xander had heard nothing from her, nothing of her. No new was good news in this case, however that didn’t curb his concern. No one would have pegged him for a worrywart - well, perhaps his predecessor would have. A trait that had been discovered about Connor specifically was that he had a peculiar form of mild anxiety, one triggered by unexpected situations, stress or the possibility of failure.
It would appear that when CyberLife was constructive the later model not all the bugs had been worked out. Xander was convinced he shared a similar trait.
A clock ticked on a nearby wall, counting away the seconds, minutes, hours. How was Joanna? Was she safe? Was she still upset by that nights events? He still recalled the exhaustion in her eyes, the waning resilience. He hadn’t wanted to leave her, but it was necessary. For the woman’s peace of mind, for her safety. If he had been spotted at the CyberLife Tower, then--
Are you alright, Xander?
The voice of his predecessor rang in his mind and Xander looked up to see Connor watching him from his desk across the room. There was a silent exchange between them, of blank visage and expressive eyes. There was nothing that need be said. Connor already knew the situation, for he had sought out his more advanced twin once the damage report had been uploaded into the DPD database. Worries had been conveyed then, as well as silent gratitude for the brave programmer that had saved him. But now Connor looked at him with a wholly different concern, passive yet genuine. The RK900 gave a soft nod, one which was returned promptly. Both returned to work but Xander’s mind refused to focus.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Eventually he could take it no longer - the feeling of anxiety and thoughts of the night he nearly met his end refused to leave him be. Swiftly he stood and gathered his jacket from it’s placed draped over the back of his chair. He noted his partner glancing up from his cell phone, the gruff mutter of “Hey dipshit, the fuck you going?” caught his audio processor. Xander paused only long enough to regard Gavin with a passive frown.
“I’ve completed my report, Detective Reed. I’m heading out for the day.” He didn’t wait to her the man’s complaints. He simply turned and left the station, ignoring the stares half the room was giving him. He couldn’t be bothered with that now. He needed to get out of the station, the recycled air and the smell of coffee and dust and sugar far too stuffy just then. The moment he was outside Xander was set to wander, setting off in no direction in particular. He continued to think of that night, the emotions which coursed through him, the woman who had saved him. And unending loop which did not leave his mind.
Perhaps it was for this reason that he found himself standing outside her apartment building, staring up absently at her floor. Being connected to the DPD and CyberLife database it was no difficult thing to acquire Joanna’s information, though he had to consider whether or not what he was doing was appropriate. Just what was he thinking, he wondered. This sort of behavior went beyond mere friendship. This was too close, too personal. Yet here he was, considering knocking on her door. What would Joanna say if he just suddenly showed up? Would she be happy to see him? Upset? Indifferent?
He hoped she would not be prone towards the latter. Anything but that. He wanted her to at least feel something. The question was why. Why did he care so much? Xander brushed the thought aside and contemplated his next action. He could leave it at this and return to the station, or pay his friend a visit. But would she be upset if he came unannounced? Was she even home? He couldn’t tell from his angle, the floor too high up to get a proper vantage point. He had a better idea. Joanna’s phone number had been listed with the rest of her information. Surely she wouldn’t mind a call. Better to ask permission than seek forgiveness in this context.
Slowly the android meandered closer to the building as he sought out the nearest cell tower frequency. He came to rest with his back against the wall and with a small effort of concentration he connected.
