Hank’s mouth opened wide, a sound emerging like a ratchet orchestra gone wrong. It stretched out, even as his eyes squinted and shut, watering with the yawn to strike him madly down. Eventually, and perhaps inexplicably, the yawn finally died. He inhaled a sharp breath, rubbing at bleary eyes, hands falling to cup the mug of coffee he’d yet to touch. Scratch that. He’d touched it all right, he just didn’t have the energy to go about lifting it or anything else. Sitting there slumped in a poor position sounded fine enough for him.
Connor blinked, his own posture as impeccable as the garments to adorn his frame. His partner was every bit as opposite as a partner could be. He thought that he left one stocking somewhere, the other pulled halfway up his calf. His shoes were untied, and his shirt partially buttoned. Who cared. They were in a cafe at the ass crack of dawn. No one there was human. He would stick by that claim tooth and nail.
“I’m sorry.” The android finally breached the silence that settled after his partners odd call to arms. Or whatever the yawn was supposed to be. “Was my story boring to you?”
“All your stories are boring to me, Connor.” Hank leaned forward, pressing one cheek into the open palm of his hand, his elbow rudely propped up on the table.
Who would wish to know the thoughts freely circulating in an androids mind, no less Connors? The sort to inspire the long drawl of dialogue he was so known to weave of any topic granted, the sort to inspire an epic roll of an eye simply because he could spout off poetic banter in describing an oven mitt and what it meant to the cosmos to have it. It was a complicated mess somewhere behind that cranium, chaos erupting to resembling something of a universe? Or perhaps the beginning of the end.
Connor inclined his head to one side, the only real sign of acknowledgement. He didn’t appear offended in the least. He didn’t appear like anything truly. Connor was.... Connor. That was all.
Hank reached out a hand, ripping off a chunk of some stale biscuit they were served. It tasted like ass.
It was strange just how loud a seemingly noiseless room truly became: the hum of the lighting fixtures, the breath of his companion, the slightest creak of wooden baseboards. It was the very absence of sound that created it. Each and every whisper was amplified, the silence itself created a ringing. Such was the case of the human sensory organ.
How long could the sense of hearing persist without anything to listen to? Who knew, perhaps one would be driven to madness before the sense could be lost at all. Not like he would know, Connor always broke his thinking before it truly had the chance to take off.
“I know her.” The android observed, dark eyes falling upon a woman nearby. “Hello?” He called without standing up. Like that wasn’t creepy for someone trying to mind their own business. “Hello there? Miss Hall?”
