#corobin

@elcaminode @lulacat3 @hobbeshalftail3469 @pools-of-venetianblue @cormoranlystruck @cb-strike @kenzthepea @allthestrellacottshippers

Cormoran knew he wasn’t good with crying women, so coming in to find Robin weeping on the floor was not how he’d’ve preferred to start the day.

“Everything alright?” he asked, then winced.  Of course it wasn’t.

Robin looked up at him. “Sorry,” she said, sniffling. “I must look a mess.”

Cormoran, unwilling to confirm this, offered her a box of tissues.

“Sorry,” she said again. “I dropped my favorite cup, and now it’s broken, and it’s a shambles, sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” Cormoran said. “It’s alright.”

And while she did look a mess, her watery smile was still undeniably attractive.

“You should go home,” Strike was saying.

Robin ignored him, much as she had been doing for the last half hour, and finished lighting the candle in her hands.  She set it up with a cluster of three others, and then produced one more.

“It’s getting late for clients,” he went on. “And even so I doubt any of them would brave the weather.”

She didn’t think he was wrong there; the sun was going down, not that it could be seen through the snow that had been falling all day.  It had been charming that morning- even Strike seemed to think so- but that had changed as the day went on.  And then the building lost power, and Strike started talking about sending her home- as if she wasn’t a lot more worried about him staying here alone as it got colder. “There,” she said, once all the candles were lit and she could at least see Strike frowning at her.  “Isn’t that better?”

Strike opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, and said, “Yeah, Robin, thank you.  Now you should go home.”