It's going to be short, and it's going to be cute.

After a particularly stressful day in the lab, Rosalind hastily shut down all her equipment, but was mindful to record detailed observations of the results of the new vigors in her journal.

Fink may have stolen one of her inventions, but two can play the profits game. Though profit was not what she sought, she sniffed disdainfully. Is that not what Andrew Ryan would loathe?

Oh yes, she has seen that tear. Though after today, Rapture can wait.

With Robert hemorrhaging upstairs, but no so badly he would require assistance, Rosalind decides to go out for a stroll. She haphazardly hangs her stained red lab coat on the hook on the front door, and shrugs into her everyday blazer.

Failure in the lab is a constant. Her dishevelment is today's variable. She cannot wait for this day to be over.

After wandering the streets of Columbia for not more than an hour, she begins to return home to her lab. The cheeriness of the people who greet her on the street only manages to sour her mood further.

Upon returning to the asylum of her home, she suddenly feels suffocated in her jacket, and promptly removes it to the hook by the door. After catching a glance in the hallway mirror, she cannot believe she actually left her home looking as thrown together as she does. Crusty vigor clings to her forehead, her blusher has smudged to the point where she looks sunburned, and her hair is bursting from its pins.

As a woman of science, Rosalind cares very little for the thoughts of the less intelligent common folk, but as the creator of her floating city, she should at least look like lady.

Nevertheless, the day is done. She moves to the kitchen to put on the kettle. While the water boils, she heads to the second floor to her bedroom. Robert is sitting up in bed, reading from one of his favorite books. Rosalind is pleased the hemorrhaging has stopped and not intensified.

One glance from Robert to Rosalind is all he needs to know that today is not the day to ask if any breakthroughs have been made. Frankly, he thinks she looks like a mess. Not the he would ever say it out loud, but anything other than an immaculate Rosalind is cause for worry.

She crosses the room after a curt nod to her brother and sits and her vanity. Before she addresses her face, the feeling of being constricted in her clothing returns, and she rises to hang her vest and tie in the closet.

She paces back to the mirror and sits, gazing down at the hairbrush before her. With a huff, she walks from the bedroom and into the bathroom to wash her face.

Robert knows this will continue for a bit, so he goes downstairs and removes the kettle from the stove. It's nearly boiling, but he knows Rosalind will not be having any tea, regardless.

Upon returning upstairs, Rosalind has removed all clothing but her chemise and is drying her face at her vanity once more. She begins to remove the intricate pins from her thick hair, and sets them next to the porcelain brush. She notes she has pinned some hair too tightly, and therefore it keeps is shape, even though nothing is holding it in place. Yet in other places, it falls freely down her back. She attempts to shake out the stiff parts, but with little avail. Before she reaches for the brush, Robert speaks up, "May I?"

Rosalind looks up at him through the mirror, but says nothing. Keeping eye contact, when he refuses to retract his offer, Rosalind nods, and Robert crosses the room to stand behind her. He carefully lifts the pure white brush from in front of her and begins to slowly work the knots from the bottom of her hair.

After working slowly up to the nape of her neck, Rosalind begins to physically relax, and her eyes slowly close. Robert, deciding to test the waters, asks her short and hopefully unobtrusive questions.

"Was this an expected failure?" Pessimistic, perhaps, but a question Rosalind would be more than happy to bite at.

Her eyes snap open. "One does not enter an experiment expecting to fail." Robert brushes a bit harder, hoping the soothing tug at her scalp will help calm her nerves.

"Likewise, one does not enter an experiment expecting to succeed." Robert is silent for a moment, before they both permit themselves a small amount of breathy laughter. While Rosalind may be the more pessimistic one, it would seem as if they have switched places for a moment.

They are silent once more; Robert just pleased that her mood is improving. Almost all the knots are gone from her long, red hair, and now he is just brushing to bring her some comfort.

"Brother, are you well?" Rosalind inquires of today's hemorrhage.

"Quite. We do not need to speak of this today," They are silent again and Robert continues to brush. Rosalind watches him work so carefully in her vanity. All the knots are gone now, and he has pulled her hair behind her back. He slowly starts to weave her hair into a thick braid, as she usually sleeps in one. Rosalind hands him a thin white ribbon and Robert deftly ties it. He places his hand on her shoulders and their eyes meet in the mirror.

Rosalind places her left hand on top of Robert's, and she offers a meek smile.

"You're exhausted, sister. Please sleep, I will sit downstairs."

He offers a hand to stand, and he leads her to bed. Turning back the covers for herself, Rosalind slips into bed, and Robert covers her again. With a swift peck to the forehead, Robert exits the room.

Rosalind is asleep before he shuts the bedroom door. Her last thought is of how she forgot to thank him.

Robert sits downstairs finishing his book, and smiles, because he knows.

I hope you like this as much as I do! I hope that the doc uploader hasn't been finicky, because in the past it has deleted random words and punctuation. If this is the case, please let me know!