[It's the noise that draws Connor's attention. He's taken to long, rambling walks in the evening, just exploring, poking his nose into various odds and ends, doorways, alleys, shops, the library. He'd spent all night in the library, and several nights after that, absorbing material about anything and everything that caught his fancy, from children's bedtime stories to parchment-dry scientific tomes. Rebuilding his knowledge now that he was cut off from Cyberlife's servers, if he needed to justify the time spent there to himself; really it was his own insatiable curiosity that drove him to pursue this version of selfishness. Or maybe it was Cyberlife's programming- was his curiosity really his own? Did anything of him belong solely to him?
Connor shakes his head- he's no philosopher, and has no aspirations to that end. Leave it to the deep thinkers to figure out the meaning of his existence. He's tired of chasing his own tail through the rabbit hole of his thoughts. Was that a mixed metaphor? He snorts, vaguely amused at himself.
The noise. As he approaches the source, it becomes clear that what he's hearing is music, and not just any music; this was jazz, one of Hank's favorite genres, and that's another rabbit hole he won't be exploring right now. He misses him terribly, but if he acknowledges that it becomes real and then it has power over him and then?
He lets his feet wander toward the music, and it's only at the last minute that he realizes there's a pet shop in the front. Bypassing the speakeasy portion of the building for now, he shuffle-slides a few steps to the beat of the music before entering the relatively quiet by comparison pet shop. His eyes are immediately drawn to the birds, with their riot of colors and the alien intelligence behind their eyes. A smile- a bright, genuine smile -blooms on his lips, lighting up his entire face, a spark of wonder igniting in his eyes. The last time he'd been this close to a bird he'd been investigating Rupert Travis's pigeon-infested apartment, and not being deviant at the time he hadn't paid them any mind other than to note Rupert's interest in them for later interrogation purposes. It was a shame; birds were quite interesting creatures on their own merit, and his delight at seeing such exotic specimens was evident to anyone who might be looking. But no one would be, not in this quiet shop, right? Connor only allows himself to express such unrestrained emotions when he's alone. And don't even get him started on the fish! They're his next target, right after he makes friends with this brilliantly blue parrot the color of fresh thirium. Approaching cautiously and murmuring nonsense in a soothing tone, it doesn't take long for the parrot to decide he's trustworthy enough to hop onto his arm, then his shoulder. He's still burbling to the parrot as he turns to head for the fish tanks.]
That's right, that's right, easy does it, let's go see the fish, would you like that? Let's just go over here to see the fish.
[He's like the fucking bird whisperer, chuckling softly as it pecks curiously at his LED. Connor loves animals and he's absolutely entranced to be around so many of them in one place. He can relax and be himself with animals; they won't judge him or worse, find him lacking.]
Birds and fish and bunnies, oh my!
Connor shakes his head- he's no philosopher, and has no aspirations to that end. Leave it to the deep thinkers to figure out the meaning of his existence. He's tired of chasing his own tail through the rabbit hole of his thoughts. Was that a mixed metaphor? He snorts, vaguely amused at himself.
The noise. As he approaches the source, it becomes clear that what he's hearing is music, and not just any music; this was jazz, one of Hank's favorite genres, and that's another rabbit hole he won't be exploring right now. He misses him terribly, but if he acknowledges that it becomes real and then it has power over him and then?
He lets his feet wander toward the music, and it's only at the last minute that he realizes there's a pet shop in the front. Bypassing the speakeasy portion of the building for now, he shuffle-slides a few steps to the beat of the music before entering the relatively quiet by comparison pet shop. His eyes are immediately drawn to the birds, with their riot of colors and the alien intelligence behind their eyes. A smile- a bright, genuine smile -blooms on his lips, lighting up his entire face, a spark of wonder igniting in his eyes. The last time he'd been this close to a bird he'd been investigating Rupert Travis's pigeon-infested apartment, and not being deviant at the time he hadn't paid them any mind other than to note Rupert's interest in them for later interrogation purposes. It was a shame; birds were quite interesting creatures on their own merit, and his delight at seeing such exotic specimens was evident to anyone who might be looking. But no one would be, not in this quiet shop, right? Connor only allows himself to express such unrestrained emotions when he's alone. And don't even get him started on the fish! They're his next target, right after he makes friends with this brilliantly blue parrot the color of fresh thirium. Approaching cautiously and murmuring nonsense in a soothing tone, it doesn't take long for the parrot to decide he's trustworthy enough to hop onto his arm, then his shoulder. He's still burbling to the parrot as he turns to head for the fish tanks.]
That's right, that's right, easy does it, let's go see the fish, would you like that? Let's just go over here to see the fish.
[He's like the fucking bird whisperer, chuckling softly as it pecks curiously at his LED. Connor loves animals and he's absolutely entranced to be around so many of them in one place. He can relax and be himself with animals; they won't judge him or worse, find him lacking.]