Connor stares at him for a moment, his LED spinning yellow as he processes this change of tack, but then he nods enthusiastically, like the idea of being part of the clean-up crew had been his intention all along.

"Yes, the morgue. Don't mind my enthusiasm, I'm just a bit of an armchair detective. I might be a little envious of the real ones." His smile is shaky, and he feels that he's saying too much and trying to hard to convince the officers here. He winces inwardly and is tempted to slap his own forehead, but he's able to stop himself before it gets to that point. Still, it doesn't seem that any harm has been done, as they were all too happy to leave he and Malcolm with the clean-up duties.

Now that they're alone with the body, he nods to Malcolm in acknowledgment and crouches down before Malcolm can use the mop- he assumes they'll have to make a show of cleaning, at least -and sticks two fingers into the blood pool, bringing them to his mouth. In Detroit, with Cyberlife's servers, the identity of the victim would be known immediately with the information obtained from the blood. He's not sure how much good it will do here without that database at his disposal, but the pull of programming is strong.