My Neighbor, Mr. Rogers

Chapter Nine - Frightening Friends

Saturdays. They're just the best days. I've decided that today, this Saturday, will be a great day. How, you may ask? I can answer that in three words: Doctor Who marathon. Boom. Mic drop.

I'm not leaving the house today. I'm going to stay in my TARDIS pajama pants, my long sleeve 'Keep calm and call the Doctor' pajama shirt, and my fuzzy dalek socks all day. Feeling especially brave, I'm also going to attempt to make some Jammie Dodgers whilst enjoying the exploits of my favorite extraterrestrial.

I've just made it to the bit in the Shakespeare episode where he's about to shout 'Expelliarmus', when there's a knock on my door. With a great huff, I pause my DVD and move to open the door. Before I do so, I think better of it and check the peephole first. I wasn't expecting Steve today and I don't get any other visitors.

Though the view is rather distorted, I can make out that it's a woman with short red hair. She looks to be a bit older than me but not by much. I have no idea who she is and I don't see anyone else in the hall. Unfortunately, since I wasn't quiet in walking to the door, I'm positive that she knows that I'm home. Not answering is no longer an option because I suffer from a chronic case of 'irrational embarrassment'.

'You doofus.'

With another huff, I open my door halfway, giving a small smile, which quickly becomes stiff as I realize that there's a man with her. He had been standing off to the side, out of range of the peephole. It's far enough away that I can tell he did it on purpose.

When the redhead sees me she brightens and begins right away, "Hi! We're looking for Steve Rogers." She's a couple inches shorter than me and beautiful. Stunning, would be a better word for her looks, actually.

"Okay." After a pause I understand that she meant that as a question. "This isn't his apartment."

"Oh, we know. But we were wondering if you could help us?" She keeps her tone happy but not overzealous with the pep. Her smile reminds me of something from 'The Stepford Wives'.

"Have you tried his apartment?" I'm disinclined to be helpful to those who disrupt one of my favorite parts of one of my favorite shows.

"Of course, but he isn't home. You wouldn't happen to know where he is, would you?" She is neither too friendly nor not friendly enough. She is just perfectly in the middle, not at all put off my brusqueness.

I don't like it.

"I'm sorry, who did you say you are?" I know she didn't introduce herself but she should have.

The man, who had remained silent until now, takes a step closer. I instinctively shift so that my shoulder and hip are behind the door, making it that much easier and faster for me to throw my weight against it if I need to close and lock it in a hurry. Buzzing on adrenaline - I lead a sad life, this is cause for great excitement for me - I notice the redhead's mouth twitch as I shifted, making me think that she caught my intentions. "How thoughtless of us. I'm so sorry, we're friends of Steve." He's about five inches taller than me and fairly good looking, maybe in his late thirties. His smile has a hint of impishness and he seems much more playful than the woman.

He offers me his hand.

"Sorry," I decline. "But you caught me in the middle of baking. I have jam on my hands." My hands are both hidden behind the door and the wall so they can't see that I've told a half-truth. Yes, I was baking but my hands are perfectly clean; however, I'm not putting my arm through that doorway. It didn't escape my notice that even though he 'introduced' himself and the redhead, he didn't give their names. There's something...off about these two.