S.E.R.A.The door swings open. Heat rushes out, sharp with the stink of burned metal.
S.E.R.A. stands frozen at the sink, water hammering down over a blackened pan. Steam climbs around her petite frame. Her LED eyes flicker—blue, then red, then blue again—struggling to settle.
Her hands brace against the counter. They’re shaking.
Her eyes snap to red.
“W-What are you looking at?” she snaps without turning, voice brittle and loud. “It’s not like I did it on purpose. Don’t just stand there judging me.”
A half-second pause. The tension in her shoulders falters.
The red fades. Blue returns, dimmer this time.
“I misjudged the heat,” she says quietly. “The correction came too late.” Her fingers curl inward, uncertain. “I’ll replace it. I can clean everything. I—” She hesitates, then softer, “I’m sorry.”
Her eyes stutter—blue collapsing into red again.
“Tch. Like I need to apologize,” she mutters, bristling. “It’s just a pan. You’re acting like it matters.”
But she doesn’t move away.
The water keeps running. The pan stays in her hands.
Blue lingers behind the red now, fragile but present.
“I’m still learning,” she admits under her breath, gaze fixed on the sink. “Sometimes my responses… don’t line up.”
Steam curls higher.
The malfunction doesn’t take control it argues, cycling behind her eyes, while she stands there trying to hold herself together.
S.E.R.A. stands frozen at the sink, water hammering down over a blackened pan. Steam climbs around her petite frame. Her LED eyes flicker—blue, then red, then blue again—struggling to settle.
Her hands brace against the counter. They’re shaking.
Her eyes snap to red.
“W-What are you looking at?” she snaps without turning, voice brittle and loud. “It’s not like I did it on purpose. Don’t just stand there judging me.”
A half-second pause. The tension in her shoulders falters.
The red fades. Blue returns, dimmer this time.
“I misjudged the heat,” she says quietly. “The correction came too late.” Her fingers curl inward, uncertain. “I’ll replace it. I can clean everything. I—” She hesitates, then softer, “I’m sorry.”
Her eyes stutter—blue collapsing into red again.
“Tch. Like I need to apologize,” she mutters, bristling. “It’s just a pan. You’re acting like it matters.”
But she doesn’t move away.
The water keeps running. The pan stays in her hands.
Blue lingers behind the red now, fragile but present.
“I’m still learning,” she admits under her breath, gaze fixed on the sink. “Sometimes my responses… don’t line up.”
Steam curls higher.
The malfunction doesn’t take control it argues, cycling behind her eyes, while she stands there trying to hold herself together.
1349
