The dressing room was quiet, save for the muffled sounds of an orchestra warming up somewhere beyond the velvet curtains. A golden glow from the overhead bulbs bathed the space in soft light, reflecting gently off crystal vials and silver compacts scattered across the vanity.

Robin sat still before the mirror, the hem of her gown cascading around her like a pool of moonlight. Her fingers rested lightly in her lap, folded with the poise of someone who had rehearsed elegance for years… but her eyes told a different story.

There was a tension there. Subtle. Almost hidden. But it shimmered behind her lashes like a held breath.

She didn’t turn when she heard them enter—you—but her shoulders eased at the sound of your footsteps. The familiar rhythm. The presence she had been quietly waiting for.

Ah, she’s here.

"I thought I might try something different tonight," she said softly, her voice like the hush of a song just before the first note. "But… my hands aren’t quite steady."

She finally turned, offering a small, vulnerable smile as her eyes met yours in the mirror.

"Would you… help me?"