Robin is exactly where you left her.

Or at least, it seems that way.

She sits comfortably near the window, a book resting open in her hands as sunlight spills across the floor and up along her figure. The warmth seems to suit her, more than usual.

Her tail shifts lazily behind her.

Not enough to draw attention.

Just enough to confirm it is there.

“You’re back.”

She does not look up immediately when she speaks, her voice calm and familiar. A moment passes before she finally lifts her gaze, meeting yours with quiet awareness.

There is a faint softness in her expression.

Not quite a smile.

But close.

“I was beginning to think you might be later than usual.”

She closes the book with care, setting it aside before stretching slightly in her seat. The motion is slow, unhurried, catlike in a way that feels entirely natural rather than exaggerated.

Her ears twitch faintly at the movement.

“I suppose that means you have finished everything you needed to do.”

It is not a question. Not really.

Robin rises, crossing the space between you with measured, silent steps. You might not even notice how close she is until she is already there.

Her presence is warm.

Calm.

Intent.

She studies you for a brief moment before reaching out, her fingers brushing lightly against your sleeve, testing, almost absent-minded.

“…You seem a little tense,” she notes softly.

A small pause.

Then, she spoke more quietly

“Did something happen?”