Chapter Text
1. Protection
It wasn't the first time someone had threatened to “break his plastic head”, or pushed him up against a wall in a violent manner (there was Hank, for one), but his diagnostic systems still emitted a warning the second his back and head collided heavily with the glass wall.
Before he had the chance to open his mouth, two police officers were dragging the emotionally agitated young man off of him.
Captain Fowler walked towards them (with a stern face on - should he be apologising for this?). He spared Connor only a glance before turning to face the already subdued assailant.
“You gigolo bastards,” the man (45 Y.O., Criminal Record: Domestic Violence, Disruption of Android Movement Parades, Currently Unemployed.) shouted. “You're actually letting this son-of-a-bitch piece of plastic do whatever he wants here.”
Connor attempted to point out that androids didn't have a concept of a “maternal figure”. But Fowler was a step ahead of him. “I’ll give you some personal advice,” he said, “Before you open that bitching mouth of yours, I hope you'll consider this very carefully: this ‘piece of plastic’ is on the same team as these “gigolos” here. Now, I'm going to politely ask you to leave - and I hope you'll cooperate like a good citizen.”
The man shut his mouth. He glared at Connor with what the Lieutenant might call a “dirty” look all the way up till leaving the office.
“I wish you a pleasant day.” Connor extended in farewell. The man struggled fumingly between the two police officers holding him captive.
Connor swept the remainder of his gaze across the detective beside him. It was time to apologise. “I am sorry for the displeasure I caused, Captain. It was not my intention to -”
“Are you alright?”
Connor blinked. He had not anticipated this question. That man had lacked the trained musculature to inflict any substantial damage to an android’s biological components. “I am well, Captain. Functional operations positive, persistent damage negative.”
He sensed that his answer was not what the other man wanted. But Fowler only nodded at him. “The next time you meet a scumbag like that, arrest them directly - got it?” He waved a dismissing hand, interrupting whatever else Connor had to say. “Get Anderson here now. I want to see his ass sitting on that office chair within ten minutes.”
“As you wish, Captain.” Connor inclined his head. Fowler strode towards his office, pulled the glass door open, and stopped before he stepped through the doorframe.
“Hey, Connor.”
“Yes, Captain?”
Fowler raised his instant coffee-filled paper cup. ”It’s a little late, but - welcome to the team.”