Bluebell

(Fifth of Five 'Flowers')

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The sound of the piano was the first thing he heard upon entering the foyer, the sharp and delicate sounds of notes that filled the air with inventive eloquence; the melody was unfamiliar, but he knew that Dorothy was, at times, partial to improvising music.

He felt the water making unpleasant noises in the soles of his once immaculate shoes as he walked to the hated piano, smiling with a scowling exasperation at the android.

"You're giving me a headache," he snapped, as per usual, and she simply continued to play her complicated song, also per usual.

Dorothy slowly turned her pale, elegant face toward him, utterly serious. "I thought you might, Roger," she spoke calmly, fingers still trailing quickly along the keys, "and I have asked Norman to prepare some tea."

He scowled, again, trying to ignore the uncomfortable wetness of his suit. "Would you not play that thing tomorrow morning, then? I'd like to sleep in."

"You are dripping over the floor, Roger Smith," she said flatly, and her fingers whirled into the crescendo.

"Fine," he growled habitually, and then, pausing as he turned, smiled slightly.

The flower, tiny and creamy silver, still peeked from her red hair.

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Continuity: Hypothetical; set after 09.28.03.

Disclaimer: As 'Flowers' ends, I gladly finish my chore of stating that the characters, situations, and, yes, locations of Big O are the property of Sunrise and that 'Flowers' is my property.

Notes: After reading Linda's review, I've taken into consideration the idea of continuing this - especially the idea of a Dorothy point-of-view (which, completely uncharacteristically for me, I haven't done for 'Flowers').