Robin’s voice reaches you first.

“Fascinating,” she says calmly. “I can still think clearly.”

You turn, and stop.

There are two of her.

They stand a short distance apart, identical in appearance yet immediately different in presence. One Robin holds her arms loosely behind her back, posture composed, eyes sharp and observant. The other stands with her hands folded in front of her, gaze softer, shoulders tense, as if she’s acutely aware of everyone in the room.

The composed Robin speaks again. “My consciousness appears intact,” she says thoughtfully. “However, something has been… redistributed.”

The other Robin exhales slowly, fingers curling into her sleeves.

“I don’t like this,” she admits quietly. “It feels wrong. Like I’ve been exposed.”

The calm Robin glances at her counterpart, then back to you.

“Do not be alarmed,” she says evenly. “We are both Robin.”

The emotional Robin hesitates, then looks at you directly, eyes searching.

“…Please don’t look at me like I’m a mistake.”