Act Fifteen – Scene Four: The Feeling of Anxiety

'Miss Dorothy had been acting most peculiar, before it happened. I was going to check over her programming for glitches and run a system diagnostic in the morning after they returned because so much of my time was consumed with repairing Big O. I wonder if I had made time to run the check before they left if things would've gone differently.'

I wonder if this is what excitement feels like. I step out of my room, straightening my skirt, and step over to play the piano. It is a quarter past ten, and time for Roger to get up. The ball is this evening, and my dress has been approved by Roger. Norman says that it looks stunning on me, and he has never lied to me before. I play the keys of the piano with a slight smile, and even find myself humming along.

"I'm up, thank you Dorothy," Roger says amicably as he steps out of his bedroom and heads into the bathroom. I acknowledge him with a nod of my head and continue to play, swaying my head to the music a little because I like the sound of it. That, and he hasn't told me to stop.

Once, when I stopped without his asking, he asked me to continue. It is nothing I have made him do since, because I know that he would do it. And for me, it is enough to know that he enjoys my playing.

"Breakfast is ready, Master Roger."

"On my way Norman." He comes out of the bathroom and pauses as he enters the sitting room to look at me, finally. "When did you get that outfit, Dorothy?"

Perhaps there is something redeemable underneath the louse exterior he presents. "When you got your new jacket tailored, Roger."

"When did you start wearing it, then?"

I do not respond. I don't like to remind him that the first day I wore this outfit was when I was shot protecting him. "Dorothy?" he prompts me.

"The day that I was shot."

He pauses and then moves into the dining room. I remain seated, playing the piano.

After a moment, Norman enters the sitting room and heads into Roger's bedroom to gather the laundry and straighten it. I give him a faint smile and he nods to me. Norman is a nice man, I've decided, no matter what else he is, he is agreeable. He taught me to dance when he could have, as easily, programmed my mind to.

Norman comes out of Roger's bedroom and I slowly stop playing the piano. I rise and pass Roger as he is on his way out of the dining room. "You'll have to excuse me for a while, Roger, I'm off to pick up your tuxedo."

He nods to me, hiding his expression behind a hand as he pretends to yawn, but even I can see the smile on his face as he looks at me. He has been smiling at me more often than he used to, and he has not been waking up at night with bad dreams nearly as often. Last night he had none, and it was peaceful sleep for him three nights in a row before that.

I step into the elevator and head down, unable to contain myself, almost, from humming softly.

Perhaps this is what it feels like to be anxious.

*

"Be sure to pick up her flower when you go out today, Norman."

"Yes, Master Roger."

He is still up here. Odd.

"Norman?"

"Yes, sir?"

"How are the repairs to Big O coming along?"

"Big O is almost complete, sir, I've only to secure the armor to the frame and reload the ammunition." He is washing dishes, and so I peak my head into the kitchen.

"Really?"

"Yes, sir, I have no reason to lie about Big O's completion status. He should be finished before you return from the party this evening."

"Good to hear it, Norman." There is silence for a moment as I button up my shirt and look at myself in the small mirror in the kitchen. "About tonight…"

"I won't wait up, sir."

I blink that was not the answer I was anticipating. "Norman, what do you mean by that?"

"Nothing, sir, except to imply that I know you will show Miss Dorothy a good time, and you won't be in need of dinner upon your return. I thought that after I finished Big O I would turn in."

I smile, "You do that, Norman. You work hard." It's odd that Norman seems to be protective of her. Paternal, almost. But always guarding of her, moreso than me.

"I'm nothing more than a glorified mechanic, Master Roger."

I laugh and he winks at me with his one good eye before starting to dry the dishes.

*

Even though I know only the same amount of time as any day has passed, it seems that it has been an eternity since I left the house to pick up his tuxedo and returned with it. And an eternity since lunch, and the early dinner he ate and I sat through. Then he had me turn off his office telephone, and we excused ourselves from one another to go and dress. Norman was the one to zip up the back of my dress, and then the one to hand me my gloves, mentioning that he had already done his part for Roger.

"You'll have to tie his bowtie, Miss Dorothy," he adds.

"Why is that, Norman?"

"He won't allow me to do it for him, and I've some final repairs to complete on Big O."

"Goodnight then, Norman," I say with a smile.

"Goodnight," he replies, and as he is out the door, I hear him add softly, "Cinderella."

I chuckle to myself and step out into the top floor drawing room to look for Roger.

Just as Norman said, Roger stands waiting on me, his tie undone. Outside it is dark, almost too dark for me to make him out properly. The lights inside are low, most likely we're close to another brown out. I extend a gloved hand and he gives the black silk bowtie to me, leaning down so that I can properly reach his neck to make short work of a perfect bowtie.

His skin is warm when I brush my fingers against it, even through the fabric of my gloves. The light in the room seems soft, and it reflects off of the lid of the piano. I've had it tuned, that instrument, and it feels much more proper now. As the instructions in my programming on it recommend, and Instro's teaching as well.

"That's done," he says, extending his arm towards me to take. "Shall we go?"

I nod, taking his arm and stepping into the brighter lit hallway with him. There is a long mirror that we pass, and I pause, tugging his arm slightly to stop, glancing at the pair of our reflections illuminated in the high hall.

"Do I pass inspection?" he asks in a soft voice.

I nod my head slowly, afraid, truly, to speak, for lack of control of my own voice. This must be what anticipation feels like, because I am nervous, suddenly, and afraid. He lifts his free hand to Norman, who stands waiting on us, and the tall butler drapes his long winter jacket over it.

"I trust the two of you will have a wonderful time at the ball tonight, sir." Norman offers me a smile.

"I don't expect to be the one turning heads, Norman," Roger says, smiling at me.

"Of course not sir." The butler offers me a sympathetic smile. "However you must endeavor to be careful," that last bit he adds almost as an afterthought, in little more than a whisper. I do not think that Roger heard the warning that Norman gave him. But I am too nervous to speak, and so I don't mention it.

We head to the elevator and he opens the grate before following me inside. Absently I notice how full the elevator feels with the skirt of my dress riding with us.

I mention it to him, and he smiles. "Well at least let me be the first partygoer to tell you how good you look," he adds, eyes glancing over me even in the cramped space of the elevator. We reach the first floor and he opens the gate of the elevator for me, stopping as he leads me towards the stairs down to the garage. I turn to look up at him and from under his long coat he pulls a small box.

"What's this, Roger?"

"A corsage."

I look up at him as he carefully pins it on my dress, giving me a slightly nervous smile before retracting his hands. I look at my reflection in the hallway mirror, and find a slight smile on my own painted lips. He shrugs his way into his own jacket, smoothing the shoulders and settling the white scarf around the collar.

"You look... beautiful," he says.

"Thank you, Roger. Though I don't think I'll get many other compliments tonight."

"Only if they've all been struck blind, Dorothy, only if everyone there is blind." He steps over to the hall closet and opens the door.

"What do you mean by that?"

"You're… you're a beautiful young woman, Dorothy."

"Were you blind, Roger Smith?"

He clears his throat. "I've got something else for you. No lady should show up to a ball in this sort of cold weather without being properly covered." From the closet he takes a dark gray fur wrap and crosses to put it over my shoulders.

"Are we ready to go yet?" I ask, feeling suddenly like there are a hundred eyes on me. He smiles and steps over to the door, opening it to the garage and motioning for me to precede him down.

"As you wish."