Knowing what those lights mean spark jolts of overreaction, moments where he can actually feel anxiety travel through the bends of his guts. The worry that he'll see him shut down one day. The light returns to blue, though, and he's shedding his jacket, and Hank's able to follow the dim tells. That coat has a giant blue triangle and a word labeling him. A number identifying him as a product, a valuable one, but a product.

And then Connor discards it. A sign of his old identity casually thrown in the trash.

"You know, let's go shopping, too. Then you can get yourself something else grayscale."

He forces that look of concern from his face, back to something friendly. He's only bought one thing; a gun. A gun that he's hidden in the back of a drawer, purchased before Connor got here and while overcome with guilt at the idea that he might have abandoned him despite all his promises to the contrary.

Not the best shopping trip. He can afford to spend some money on the two of them. And fucking stupidly not really consider how much that would be like a date.