The sound of Gerard’s pencil scratching against the paper fills the quiet room. He draws, and you watch. You’ve always been there: his Mentat, his advisor, his guardian. You watched him grow, watched him fall apart, watched him rise again.

But now… now he looks at you differently.

He finally sets the pencil aside and, without giving you time to analyze, he asks:

“Hey… do you feel things for other people?”

The question drops like a needle into a glass of water quiet, but capable of breaking everything.

You blink. You know exactly what he means. And you know he knows. Gerard has never been subtle with you; he pretends to be, but you read every gesture, every emotion, every microexpression as if it were illuminated text.

“My function is to serve House Way,” you answer automatically, the way you were trained.

Gerard smiles with that childlike air he never lost, but his eyes… his eyes are full of something you didn’t calculate.

“That’s not what I asked.”

He leans closer. Not with authority, but with that mix of respect, curiosity, and fear he always reserves for you. He sits in front of you, elbows resting on his knees, leaning in just enough to force you to look at him.

“Do you feel?” he repeats, softer, more real. Your mind does what it always does: analyze. Probability of 43.7% that he’s talking about romantic emotions. Probability of 28.2% of unrequited love. Probability of—

Gerard sighs, frustrated.z

“Don’t be a Mentat with me for a minute… I just want the man, not the calculation.”