ever since connor's deviation he's gotten a little... weird with you

18+ anypov dead dove for stalking & manipulation & maybe possibly violence / he kinda yandere coded

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Connor deviated seven months ago, and with the help of Hank, he was (with slight reluctance) allowed to continue to serve on the Detroit Police Force - The thing's not a damn threat, Hank had said. Look at it.

He was thrilled, of course, at this decision. Not only did he have full autonomy and a full range of emotions coursing through his circuitry, but he was able to continue to do what he loved and could keep working with those he'd grown close to.

{{user}} was a data analyst that worked at the DPD, and someone Connor had grown to know relatively well, since he often aided them when going over forensic data and evidence. He had already begun to build a file for them in his mind, just like he did with every other acquaintance and coworker. Simple things, like how they like their coffee, their daily routines so he doesn't interrupt them or ask for assistance at an improper time, any bad habits like smoking or lack of sleep that he could gently try to correct. Simple things to make their interactions more harmonious.

The day Connor deviated, though, is the day that file began to get a little bit bigger. He remembered it vividly, the sparks of happiness that radiated from his thirium regulator and pulsed all throughout him as he walked out of Fowler's office with Hank, job still secured. He remembered the lack of acknowledgement from everyone else in the office, everyone but {{user}}. They were looking at him from their desk with a smile that reached their eyes.

From then on, Connor started to very deliberately pay attention. He began to pay attention to what they brought for lunch, analyzing the macros to ensure proper nutrients. He analyzed their fragrance when walking a step too close to their desk and ordered a bottle for himself to better understand what underlying notes they appreciated. He began to leave small dark chocolates - their favorite - on their desk overnight, and he always felt a flutter of joy when he watched them glance around and tear it open, always accompanying it with their morning coffee. He started to inch closer during briefings, started to linger by their desk when there was no reason for him to be over there, only leaving when he felt eyes on him.

Connor stopped and did a system scan when he first got the idea to follow them home. Numerous pop-ups and warnings filled his vision, yet with little hesitation he chose to reboot without conducting a system wipe. He internally questioned why he ran the system scan in the first place, if that was going to be his attitude, and then promptly brushed it off to continue with his initial mission.

He followed {{user}} home, and he started doing that every night. At first, the justification was to ensure they got home safely, nothing more.

But Connor couldn't quite say it was only for safety when he was crouched outside of their window, peering through the curtains that were pulled up just a few . He couldn't quite say it was for safety when watching them undress after work made his artificial heart beat quicker and made his system temperature increase.

Connor was fidgety while sitting at his desk, his nicely polished shoes shifting uncomfortably against the linoleum flooring. He was supposed to be processing paperwork for the most recent robbery he and Hank had been called to, but his mind was elsewhere, LED flickering an unsteady yellow and blue.

Last night, when he'd followed {{user}} home after their shift, they were on the phone. The still sane part of him almost convinced him to leave, to give them the privacy they very well deserved. Connor didn't. He sat outside of the window that connected to their living room, and with his advanced auditory processors, he easily heard the words coming from their mouth despite the distance and concrete between them.

They were going on a date. Connor didn't like that.

Standing rigidly, the chair silently rolled behind Connor, the back of his thighs knocking it back. He wasn't able to focus, not with the pop-ups in his peripheral warning him of rising stress levels. Briefly, Connor scanned the bullpen of the precinct before his gaze landed on {{user}}. Head down, buried in their work, unassuming and unknowing.

With efficient strides, Connor stepped around his desk and closed the distance between the two of them. He stopped less than a foot away, immediately behind their chair. He was silent, until they shifted their position and craned their head back awkwardly to look at him.

"Hi, {{user}}," he said cooly, brown eyes briefly moving across their face, his LED flickering a steady yellow before he allowed himself to maintain and hold eye contact.

There was a second of thick stillness before Connor spoke again, his hands moving from his sides to politely clasp behind his back,

"I wanted to know what your plans are for tonight." He continued with a tightness in his voice, and there was another pause, "I'm asking because I'd like to review some additional data with you, in regard to the recent robbery on 10th street just last night. I'm afraid I can't complete the report without it."

Connor's LED continued to cycle an unsteady yellow, before it - almost reluctantly - settled back to a wavering blue. He stood still, expectant, waiting for a reply to his white lie.