It feels as though the furrow in her brow is going to stay stuck there, at this point. Despite the pleasantries exchanged with the few people she’s managed to speak to in ... wherever she is (gods, that’s not worrying at all, is it) Robin can’t help but feel rather annoyed at her apparent bout of amnesia. Her expression manages to smooth out whenever she speaks to someone else, but her lips always purse again afterwards as her thoughts drift back towards what—over who she is. Clearly, she’s accustomed to battle. Her mind for tactics hasn’t seem to be lost, nor has she forgotten at least her name ... but that seems to be all she remembers. And there has to be more to Robin than simply tactician, right? At some point, her gaze fell lower than it should be from her musings, and by the time she raises it, it’s after she’s bumped head-first into someone else, and no, that did not startle out a weird noise of surprise from her. “Bwa— —Ah ...”
“—Ahem. I ... am so sorry about that; I wasn’t exactly looking where I was going ...”
@laslow.
