It’s a rare occasion that Hank finds himself outside this particular, suspicious house, but his life has led him down a darker path than the shining light of law enforcement may lead others to believe. His face pulls itself into a grimace as he raises a hand to knock on the heavy, wooden door behind which too many secrets are being kept.
Hank, of course, keeps them all himself in exchange for the owner’s particular skillset.
It’s no surprise that he has to wait, but once the door opens he’s almost relieved to see the human resident answer rather than one of his ‘creations’. The thought made Hank uncomfortable even when he thought androids were nothing but objects made to serve and enrich the lives of humans. Zlatko takes that belief to the next level.
“Lieutenant Anderson.” A calm, friendly smile decorates Zlatko’s tired features. Normally, an officer at the door would spell trouble, but this one is different. Having someone like Hank around is certainly useful when protection is needed. And, of course, he provides his own services to accommodate that generosity. “Come on in. I have what you asked for in the living room.”
Hank doesn’t know the layout of Zlatko’s large house very well, but he knows enough that when the man retreats inside and takes an immediate left, it’s towards the aforementioned room. With little more than a casual greeting in return, he follows behind ( making sure to shut and lock the front door behind him, as has always been Zlatko’s request ). His eye catches sight of the steps leading down to the basement—explored only once by the lieutenant himself and, hopefully, never again—but he quickly redirects his attention back to the business at hand.
“Everything should be in order.” A hand sweeps outward to draw his guest’s attention to several items laid out on the central table. Zlatko takes a seat in his usual chair and allows Hank to do whatever he pleases—sitting or standing makes no difference to the host; even if Hank is shady, Zlatko still attempts to be on his best behavior.
Just as Hank moves to seat himself in front of his new ‘purchase’, a small movement catches the corner of his eye and he freezes in mid-motion. Baby blue eyes widen in shock at the sight; his brain fires off a dozen questions at a time, but his tongue sits, limp and useless, in his mouth.
“Get out!” Zlatko’s commanding, deep voice rings out through the living room and no sooner is he sitting down than he’s up on his feet again. “Damn defective—” it’s mumbled under his breath before an insult is hurled. “What did I tell you? Stay in the basement unless I call you!”
