|| sᴡᴇᴇᴛ X;;

There’s another Robyn.

               “ Because there’s one thing the books don’t talk about. “

     There’s a curious tone of offence to her voice as she speaks, fingers working deftly to all but snap the book upon the finger that touched the pages to point out every small detail that may or may not have been incorrect. The books were her most precious and prized possessions in her little library and she’d be damned by the fictional dragon Grima herself if she let someone else put their sticky little fingers all over them. 

               “ Back then, when a thief gets caught, they get a certain type of                  punishment – especially if it’s not an offence that warrants                  hanging or beheading, or even being tossed off a sheer drop from                  atop a cliff. So, if you want me to believe you’re the real Gaius, prove it. “

     She’s not convinced, no way, no how. It’s impossible for people to travel through time and it’s especially impossible since the events of the Awakening didn’t actually take place. They were stores told to young children to fill their heads with thoughts of adventure and grandeur. No way was a small tactician – one that people couldn’t even agree was male or female – the host to the fell dragon Grima. It was just illogical to think it was possible. 

    She's quick to snap parchment jaws onto your hand & damn is she fast to do it. Oh, but you've the reflex to yank fingers back 'fore they're slammed between pages of the thick tome. Touchy toward her collection was how you recalled the tactician to be ─ Robin ( in your memory ) would very well of done the same thing, and this only further sets the sentiment that things are not as she foretells. Lips play a displeased line when she's picked the showstopper of a query. You're a keen man who can put the numbers together without batting an eye; she knows as she should about you & yourself, and you know what she's digging at. There's a flutter of your eyelids 'fore a thick breath is exhumed.

              Could she, perhaps, of picked something better? Honestly...

              ❝ You’re killing me here, Bubbles. ❞

    Stated heavily, nary missing the exhaustion laced betwixt e'ry word uttered. Your patience has long since  TWIDDLED  & died the more she's insisted her point; yours was a lie, and hers the truth. Yet it is this back and forth game that peeves you. There is no direct answer, and it's dissolved into nothing more than a childish game of "who done it".

              ❝ You're dragging that mess up, now of all                   times? You know, if I wasn't so ready to just ─ ❞

    Don't finish the sentence. She's the look to kill a man & you wouldn't ever put it past her. You've seen the feats a sole woman such as her can preform; Robin will always be a force to be reckoned with, and it would always be in your best interest to just tuck your tongue back into your mouth. Had this not been Robin, oh had this been any of the other Shepards... You'd swiftly decline and let them prattle on as if you're a liar. ( Which, really, wasn't that farfetched of a concept. ) Alas, Robin should know; she always knew. By mistake, yes - it was of no intention of hers to press &  PRY  on former matters that none had the will to speak any length of. Still she knew, and because she knew, you'd let the information slide.

    But this was different, was it not? Yes, it was Robin, but it was also not. You're caught between wanting to go along with the idea of you being some elaborate actor, and wanting to show a known ally of yours the truth. Should you rely on your wit and play her to your tune as you had many others in the past, or plea your case ?

    What a bizarre turn of events this was.

              ❝ Fine. Fine, it isn't worth the headache, but                    don't you dare bring it up with anyone else.  ❞

    Oh, what could you honestly do if she had? There's not one finger you could lift that she couldn't dance her pretty little self around. She's already had you employed as a watchful eye for her future schemes - and she's now got you peeling leather & cloth from fingers to prove a case and point that didn't matter to whether you lived or died. She's intent to see skin long since pressed to scorched iron, so she'll see a past time's err; if only to get her to place her foot to her mouth.

⌠ 𝓕 a t e b o u n d⌡— His brows raise in pique—this one was quick as he was sharp. It seemed that the mere amount of words he spoke stayed with the wandering redhead. Still, Kamui wasn’t all too trusting of the other, and preferred to keep his distance.

❝I. . .can’t disclose my business here, save for the fact I make for Ylisse. Hoshido will do just fine while I’m away, although I would prefer if my being here was kept quiet.❞ With his head bowed, Kamui politely requested that the thief wouldn’t speak his name to others.

               ❝ Uh huh. ❞

     Strange request for those of royal blood. You wouldn’t admit to grasping the reasoning for his preference, but you would be the first to wager a  GUESS. Hunted, perhaps? Doubtful, even in today’s time ─ lest those of the Hoshido house were now in the same position of those of Ylisse previously. A practiced liar, now that seemed more probable; though speak yay or nay to his words, you did not & left lie the prince’s suggestion you did. He wore himself as a noble would, even against how nonsensical he seemed aside.

❝…Nothing. Pig❞

❝They weren’t complimentary, Gaius.❞

❝Oh, I forgot I was head over heels with the dashing, wiry-framed ginger that always seems to empty me out of my Ladyfingers every time he stops by.❞

❝Getting real tired of your shit, Gaius.❞