He awoke to the same piano concerto he did every day. The loud banging Dorothy did on the keys every morning was enough to give ANY man a headache.
Roger grumbled and got out of bed. "DOROTHY! How many times do I have to tell you to stop that infernal piano playing?"
She just looked up at him and calmly said "Breakfast is ready, Roger Smith. You should get to the table before your eggs get cold."
Roger sighed and proceeded off to the table, wondering just what kind of questions Dorothy would ask him today. She ALWAYS seemed to have some question to ask him- some kind of question about humanity or emotions that he didn't quite know the answer to.
In which case, he'd make a sarcastic remark and move on.
He wondered just how many bits of sarcasm he had left in him.
Reaching the table, Roger sat down. "Good morning, Norman."
"Good morning, Roger. I trust you had a pleasant rest?"
"Not really. I haven't been lately."
"I'm terribly sorry. Here are your eggs."
Roger nodded and ate his eggs quietly. Dorothy didn't seem to be coming.
Is that good or bad?
She sat down across the table from him, and also began to eat. She wondered what the juice and eggs actually TASTED like.
She wondered if she'd ever know.
"Roger, I have a question for you," she said calmly.
He'd been expecting it. She could tell by the look on his face. "Fire away."
"How does it feel to be in love?"
The question startled him. This was certainly… tense…
"Er… well…"
She stared at him coolly from across the table. Roger wondered why his cheeks were turning so warm all of a sudden.
"I think it's different for everyone, Dorothy."
There. He'd avoided yet another direct answer.
"Then how is it for you, Roger Smith?"
Uh-oh. This is not good.
There was a pause. Roger averted his gaze down to the half-eaten egg, trying to think of an answer.
He couldn't.
"Well, Dorothy, I suppose…"
She cocked her head slightly to the left, telling him without words to go on.
He couldn't think of what to say.
"Why do you need to know anyway! You're an ANDROID! You don't need to know about feelings!"
He climbed out of his chair, pulled on his jacket, and stormed away.
Dorothy was still sitting at the table, looking at Roger's half eaten egg.
She stood up, surprising Roger. "Roger Smith, you are a louse," she said, losing the calm in her voice. She ran off toward her bedroom, leaving Roger looking astounded.
Norman re-entered the room. "Someone just called for you, Roger. I recommend you go answer it."
Roger shook his head, regaining his normal demeanor, and exited the room.
Dorothy laid on her bed, her face in the pillow. If she could have cried, she would have.
Did he hate her? Was that why he would never answer her questions? Did he care more about that horrid Angel than her?
She shuddered at the thought of Roger caring for such a vile person as Angel. She'd ripped up that business card for the sole reason of making sure that he never would. She did NOT want him to fall into Angel's trap