Rosalind frowned at Robert the entire time they were having breakfast. She would look down just long enough to ready her next bite, then look up again, fixing Robert with her most withering glare. After a couple weeks of this nonsense Robert was quite immune to the effects of her disapproval. He wiped his mouth carefully when he finished eating, rubbing his newly grown moustache back into its proper shape.
Rosalind sniffed in distaste and collected their dishes, taking them to the sink to be washed later that evening. "It looks ridiculous. You look like a member of a barbershop quartet."
"That's not the insult you seem to think it should be." Robert noted, before returning to their laboratory to work on their latest infusion for repelling bullets. "I think it makes me look quite dignified. A man my age should have some type of facial hair." He picked up a clipboard and began to examine the latest combination. It seemed stable so far and only half of their test labrats were dead so far.
Rosalind pondered his response in the kitchen. She hated his moustache so much. It looked ridiculous on him. She knew then that she must convince him to rid himself of it, no matter what he asked for in return. She steeled herself in her resolve, holding her head high as she left the kitchen.
Robert looked up from his task when he felt her determination in his mind. He put his pencil under the clip of his board and put the whole thing down. "Go on then, say what's on your mind."
Rosalind wavered for a moment, then nodded and crossed her arms over her chest. "I'll do whatever you want if you'll remove that ridiculous growth from your face."
Robert's eyebrows shot up and he thought of the thing he wanted from her immediately. Rosalind cringed. "Ugh. No. I shall not. It's obscene that you'd even ask me to participate in such a thing."
Robert nodded and retrieved his clipboard. "Perhaps I'll grow a beard as well. It might look nice. Not a long affair like Comstock's, but something short." He said it offhandedly, like he was talking about the weather or something of equal unimportance.
Rosalind grit her teeth. She refused to kiss him while he had facial hair and she was already a little annoyed by the lack of physical contact. "Ugh. I hope you'll be finding another bed to sleep in. I don't want to brush that. . . thing in the night."
Robert shrugged, his voice remaining calm. "Our bed will be adequate for my needs. I won't be sleeping elsewhere to appease your childish sense of entitlement." He picked up a glass container holding the remainder of the infusion to study how it had survived the night. There was no sediment on the bottom. Good. He noted that while he spoke to Rosalind. "Could you check on Lot Seven when you angrily flounce upstairs to make a voxophone about how cruel I am?"
Rosalind paused at the bottom of the stairs. "I'd like to know why people think you're the nice, approachable version of myself." She strode up the stairs quickly, tugging her skirts out of her way rather than decreasing her speed.
The day was spent in silence from there on. Rosalind refused to speak to Robert and he felt no compelling urge to be berated for his lack of shaving. Lot Seven turned out to have died in the night, and the remainders of Lots Four through Six followed suite througout the day. The Luteces looked into the matter individually. Lot Four was one of the control group, which was worrisome and irritating to them both. Rosalind made voxophones about the subject at the end of the day and they disposed of the failed infusion before taking supper.
This was another meal spent largely in silence, though Rosalind had at least stopped glaring the whole time. She didn't even want to look at him. His stubbornness was unbelievable. Robert was just grateful for the silence and that she was keeping her bad mood to herself.
The tension was too much for the twins after dinner. Normally they tired each other out in one manner or another before bed. Usually it was a walk or working while sharing a pipe. Tonight they stood around awkwardly, each waiting for the other to speak.
Rosalind took a deep, heavy sigh. "*Fine*. I'll do it. Just shave."
Robert was surprised at the outburst, but not at the outcome. "I can't believe it bothers you that much." He rubbed the offending facial hair, smoothing it one last time. The motion was actually somewhat soothing, now. He would miss it.
"Are you going to keep arguing or are you going to go shave?" Rosalind replied, her tone crisp.
Robert sighed and retreated up to their bathroom. Truthfully he didn't like it as much as he pretended. He thought he looked rather foolish with a moustache. It simply wasn't Rosalind's place to decide whether he should shave or not. He didn't like to be bossed around by her.
When he was properly depilated he returned to the laboratory to find Rosalind was prodding at the mouse he'd begun to dissect to determine its cause of death. "I think their food was adulterated. It appears this one swallowed and attempted to digest something sharp. Please give me the hand lens by my voxophone."
Robert chuckled and complied. "I'm so glad we're going to be spending the evening looking over rodent remains to determine their cause of death." He grabbed the magnifying glass and took it to Rosalind.
Rosalind glanced up at him and accepted the lens. "You have an alternate suggestion? Here, look at this." She drew Robert over so he could see what she'd found. "Lacerations to their intestines."
Robert examined the rat and found Rosalind's observation to be accurate. "Poor things. We'll just have to prepare their food ourselves rather than depend on what we can import." He found a piece of newspaper and wrapped it around the rat and the dissecting pad so he could handle them without having to wash again. "We'll put him in formaldehyde for the night. I had more personal exploration in mind for the evening."
Rosalind nodded, taking the scalpels and spreaders to the kitchen to await washing in the morning. "Oh? We're not. . . you know. . . going out for supplies or some such?" She felt distinctly uncomfortable. She didn't want to participate in what she'd agreed to, but a deal was a deal.
Robert's expression softened a little. "I really do think you'll enjoy it. There will be supplies available when we arrive." He knew Rosalind would complain the whole time if she wasn't having fun, but he thought it would be enjoyable for her. "The next meeting is tomorrow."
Rosalind washed her hands and exited the kitchen, headed for the stairs. "In that case I must rest. I imagine this will take a lot out of me."
Robert nodded and finished putting the rodent in the jar. He supposed they should both get some rest. It would indeed be a tiring day.
"I feel ridiculous." Rosalind said, patting the fake beard Robert had put on her. "Why do I have to pretend to be a man?"
"There weren't any female pirates." Robert pointed out. "Here's your eyepatch." He offered the piece of cloth to his sister. Rosalind looked at the thing like it was a dead animal. After a moment sighed and snatched it from his hand, affixing the patch to her face.
"I doubt very much that there were no women pirates. I imagine they were simply white washed over, or forced into hiding." She crossed her arms over her chest.
Robert shrugged. "I don't know. I wasn't there. Do you want your sword?"
"It's made of foam." Rosalind noted.
"The point is that you can hit people with it and not injure them."
"The point is not lost on me, but I feel that I will very much want to hurt at least one of the people present before the day is through." She gave Robert a dark, evil glare.
Robert sighed, then offered her the foam sword. She took it, all the while looking at him with great annoyance. "You'd better run, brother. Your," she sighed heavily to show her annoyance, "'ship' is about to leave." She pointed behind him to the hovercraft that was currently flying a Jolly Rodger and red sails made of bedsheets.
Robert nodded and turned to join his 'crew'. Rosalind rolled her eyes and went toward the hovercraft with the black 'sails'. One day of running around like an idiot with a foam sword was worth it. Without his moustache Robert looked just a little dashing in his silly pirate costume. She resolved to try to enjoy herself and pretend she had not.