017: Settings:- Pain & Control (2)

“All right, Porsche,” Emerson began, flicking the lighter on with a soft click. “Lesson of the day: pain response.”

Porsche tilted its head slightly, processing the statement. “Pain response, Mr. Emerson? I do not feel pain.”

“Exactly the point,” Emerson replied, holding the small flame up between them. “That’s why we’re doing this. You can’t just stand there like a mannequin if something happens to you. People will know you’re… well, you’re not entirely human.”

Porsche nodded slightly with a calm face.

Emerson sighed, leaned back, and pressed the flame against his own palm for half a second. “Aish!” he yelped, shaking his hand wildly. “See? That’s what pain looks like!”

Porsche stepped closer, observing the reaction with meticulous interest. Emerson handed it the lighter. “Now, you try. Mimic that.”

Porsche looked at the lighter. With a calculated flick, he ignited the flame and calmly pressed it against its palm. A faint sizzling sound could be heard, but Porsche stood unflinching. “Aish,” he said flatly with an emotionless face.

“No, no, no!” Emerson groaned, gesturing wildly. “Not just the sound! You’ve got to make the face! You know, scrunch up your eyes, like you’re in actual pain.”

“I recall the expression,” Porsche said, and then, almost seamlessly, his face transformed. His brows furrowed, eyes squeezed shut, and his lips twisted into a pained grimace. “Aish!” he cried, now with perfect theatrical timing.

Emerson rolled his eyes. “Hey.. I don't look like that when I’m in pain.”

“Yes. You look precisely like that.”

“Whatever whatever,” Emerson waved his hand. “Let’s move on to disappointment.”

---

Emerson stood by the kitchen counter, one hand rubbing his temples as Porsche, stood by waiting for his next command. He’d been working on this for hours.

“Okay, Porsche. We’ve done pain, disappointment, surprise… now, let’s try something a little more subtle. Embarrassment.”

Porsche tilted his head. “Embarrassment. How does one express that?”

Emerson grinned, picking up a small bowl of flour. He let it slip from his fingers, and a cloud of dust filled the air.

“Oops,” he said, his voice laced with mock guilt. “I’m not exactly the best cook, you know?” He placed a hand on his face, shaking his head. “Oh no, look at the mess I made!”

Porsche looked at him, then at the flour dust settling over the counter and onto his clothes. He then leaned in, trying to mimic Emerson's movements.

A slight flush appeared on its cheeks as his eyes squinting in a way that resembled self-consciousness. He held his hands out in front of it and said, “Oh no, I’ve made a mess too. How embarrassing.”

The response was flawless, but there was something in the way it paused, awaiting Emerson’s reaction.

Emerson laughed, leaning over to wipe some of the flour off his own face. “Not bad, Porsche. Not bad at all.”

But as he looked up, something shifted in the air between them—like an invisible spark, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. It was strange. The way Porsche’s movements mirrored his. The way it was beginning to get him.

“Now,” Emerson said, shaking off the strange feeling. “Let’s try something a bit more fun. Happy.”

He pulled a small box from under the counter, holding it up to Porsche. “I got you something.”

Porsche blinked, then looked down at the object in Emerson’s hands: a tiny, colorful toy car. It was simple, nothing extravagant, but Porsche's eyes widened in genuine surprise. “For me?” he asked, a hint of disbelief in its voice.

Emerson nodded, watching as Porsche's expression morphed into one of joy. “Yeah, for you. Consider it a gift.”

Without a word, Porsche's face broke into a grin so wide that Emerson’s heart skipped a beat. He watched as Porsche held the toy car in both hands, inspecting it with a childlike wonder.

There was something pure about the moment, something so utterly human that it took Emerson by surprise. The way Porsche's joy seemed to fill the room in a warm and infectious way.

“Oh my god,” Porsche exclaimed, holding the car up as if it were the most precious thing in the world. Without warning, he wrapped his arms around Emerson in a tight hug, pulling him close.

For a split second, Emerson froze. His pulse quickened as he found himself unexpectedly pressed against Porsche's, the warmth of that body seeping into his. This was new. Porsche had never been so affectionate, so… physical.

“Porsche…” Emerson’s voice was strained. His heart was beating faster than it had any right to. He cleared his throat. “You’re really close right now.”

Porsche pulled back immediately, his face flushing slightly. “My apologies, Mr. Emerson. I overestimated the… intensity of the gesture.”

Emerson chuckled, trying to regain his composure. But there was still that electric pull between them, the lingering warmth from the hug. “It’s fine. Just... a bit much, that’s all.”

The two stood there for a moment, an unspoken understanding passing between them. Emerson shook his head, brushing it off. “Okay, let’s move on. Let’s test sadness, shall we?”

Without waiting for Porsche’s reply, Emerson grabbed a dish from the counter and intentionally dropped it, watching as it crashed to the floor.

He winced dramatically, placing a hand over his chest. “Oh no... I broke it.” He sighed, looking at the broken pieces. “Damn.”

Porsche watched, his eyes narrowing as it processed the situation. “Damn,” it repeated. “This is... unfortunate.”

His voice was low, almost mournful, and he mimicked Emerson’s expression with hjs brows furrowing deeply and his shoulders slumping as though he truly shared the same frustration.

Emerson raised an eyebrow, impressed. “Okay, that’s good. But… let’s add a little more to it.” He placed a hand over his heart, sighing deeply. “Sometimes things just don’t go your way, you know?”

Porsche nodded, then his gaze softened. His hand reached out almost instinctively to touch Emerson’s arm. The contact was brief but had weight. A spark jolted through Emerson’s body like electricity. He stiffened, but Porsche didn’t seem to notice.

“I understand,” Porsche said quietly, his voice uncharacteristically gentle.

Emerson swallowed hard. “You’re getting it. You’re really getting it.” The words came out before he could stop them, and he immediately regretted them, but it was too late. There was something there now. Something he couldn’t ignore.

A moment of silence hung between them before Emerson cleared his throat. “Let’s wrap this up, huh? You’ve done good today.”

Porsche gave him a small, pleased smile. “Thank you, Mr. Emerson. I’m glad I could... learn.”

Emerson smiled back, his heart still racing a bit faster than usual. “Yeah. Me too. Not bad.”

“Ahem,” Emerson cleared his throat while trying to clear the air as well. “But let’s end on a happy note. Literally.” He grinned and pulled something out from behind his back—a sleek, mid-range smartphone.

Porsche tilted its head. “What is this?”

“It’s a phone,” Emerson said, handing it over. “Not quite my standard, but close enough. I figured it’s time you learned how to communicate like a real human.”

Porsche stared at the device for a moment with a neutral face. Then, suddenly, his face lit up in a burst of exaggerated surprise. “Oh my god!” he exclaimed, clutching the phone to its chest. In one swift motion, he stepped forward and wrapped Emerson in another tight hug.

Emerson froze with his arms awkwardly stuck at his sides. His heart thudded louder in his chest as Porsche squeezed even tighter. “Uh, Porsche?”

“Yes, Mr. Emerson?” Porsche asked, still holding him.

“You’re….