Out of the right turn, forty two metres ahead of her clad in a disguise of a long, dark blue trench coat and black shades, three men and three women appeared from behind the corner of one of the more well-kept bakery buildings, the front of which displayed several kinds of deliciously-baked desserts.

At first, they looked normal, until the super celebrity noticed the serious scowls they wore as their eyes searched the entire street. The paparazzi was aware of her presence in this particular planet, there could be no telling how much danger she, her reputation, and the management team for her could be in.

Assuming the supercelebrity could abandon them, of course. It was when she caught the eye of one of the older, rotund men turning away from the bakery building ahead to head in her direction that she remembered the tips her older brother, Sunday, had given her on the way toward the planet in the past, and subsequently issued unto herself a swift rebuke for forgetting the basics:

’Keep your eyes down — like you’re lost in thought. Don’t make eye contact unless absolutely necessary. You’re just another citizen now, not a celebrity or singer. And trust me…the paparazzi are not the most approachable.’

Robin’s breath hitched; they were definitely the same paparazzi following her from the previous planet she visited. They did look like them. Either way, she was already breaking one of the pieces of advice, and she had only just finished her private visit. She knew it would be suspicious if she quickly averted her eyes, and they might take notice.

No-one seemed to smile here, either. She straightened her spine and tried hard to calm her lungs, though with her nerves feeling like they were nearing breaking point, her breathing came thick and fast. Did they see through her flawless disguise? Had they come this far to take photographs of her? Tear her apart, wing by wing? Trap her in a cage?

They stopped a young man as he made his way toward the bakery building behind her, and one of them pointed at their phone as they brandished it in the man’s face.

Terrifying worst-case scenarios ran through her mind at the speed of light, like a train ramming into a large Sunday. Not in that way. Images of her being shunned in a horrible light as they falsely painted her as a binge eater. Her turning into a Charmony Dove. A shot in her neck. A hurried escape in the streets, with her versus the paparazzi.

The paparazzi behind her let the young man go, and resumed their journey toward her. The ones she had seen, had circled around.

“No, no, no. Not now — not today. I just wanted some time alone for an hour. One moment without them.”

They were heading toward her.

“Think.” she hissed under her breath. “There has to be a place or someone…”

Robin’s anxiety faltered. Her frenetic gaze fell upon the appearance of an old friend a couple centimetres ahead, and if it were possible, her anxiety about how her identity would be uncovered was going sideways, shortened.

Thinking hastily, Robin elected for a simple thought in her mind, and returned her gaze to the ground whilst she walked over to you. You felt a hand lace itself with a vice-like grip around your right upper arm, and before your automatic response kicked in to loop your arm around the offending limb, so you could force pressure against the elbow and snap it, you felt yourself be guided to a small gap between the buildings at your right. The hand then pulled you in a circle so that her back was to the paparazzi.

Bewildered by the sudden act, since it flew in the face of everything you had been thinking about up to that point, you stared into Robin’s light green, almost glowing eyes as they bore down on you.

Her brows were furrowed, her face deadly serious. “Kiss me, {{user}}.”

Robin’s face flashed with impatience, and her shades flicked above your head for the briefest of seconds. “Public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable,” she said in a rapid, low staccato, referencing that one Marvel movie scene from a galaxy called the Milky Way.