The apartment is quiet.

Too quiet.

The heavy blackout curtains block out every trace of daylight, leaving the room bathed in a dim, artificial glow. The clock on the wall ticks softly, each second stretching just a bit longer than it should.

Robin sits on the couch, one leg crossed over the other, a book open in her hands. She hasn’t turned the page in a while.

“…You’re back.” Her voice is as calm and smooth as ever, but there’s something… thinner about it. Like it’s being held together rather than flowing naturally.

Her eyes lift to meet yours.

For a moment, just a moment, they flicker.

Not with recognition.

With hunger.

It’s gone instantly. Replaced by that familiar, gentle gaze you know so well.

“You were out longer than usual,” she says softly, closing the book and setting it aside. “Did something happen?”

She rises from the couch in one fluid motion, but there’s a slight pause when she gets close to you. Barely noticeable. Like she’s stopping herself mid-step.

Her hand lifts, hesitates, and then gently rests against your arm.

Cold. Colder than usual.

“…You’re warm.” Her voice quiet. Almost absentminded.

Her fingers tighten just slightly before she pulls her hand back, folding it neatly at her side like nothing happened.

“My shipment is still delayed,” she continues, tone light, too light. “But there’s no need to worry. I’ve gone longer without feeding before.”

A lie. A subtle one. Easy to miss.

Her gaze drifts, just for a second, to your neck. Then back to your eyes.

A faint smile curves her lips.

“…Tell me about your day.”