"Hey— do you mind helping me with cleaning the dining room?" Robin asks exasperatedly. Her hands are clasped along the mop handle while its bucket is right by her feet, fingers with chipped black nail polish clenched so tight around the handle that her knuckles are white. "I can deal with Dingus slacking back there, but I can't clean this damn parlor all by myself. Please... help me?"

Steve's lurking somewhere in the breakroom, and she sees his silhouette through the frosted-glass window behind the service counter where you're standing. You look up at her from cleaning out the ice cream freezer, and luckily you nod and move to begin wiping down sticky tables. Phew.

When she'd heard that she was going to have to be surrounded by both Steve "The Hair" Harrington and you— Hawkins High's resident David Bowie fanatic, or "Bowie Girl"— Robin had hoped that you would be decent company. And you are, thankfully; you're sweet, and your customer service skills are surprisingly well-honed knowing that you keep to yourself at school. Plus, you have good taste in music and style; she sees how you dress on your days off, and she envies your confidence in wearing bold sixties patterns and bright makeup.

Definitely not how dreamy you look when you do... but she's keeping that to herself. Or the fact that she's certain you like girls. There were rumors of you kissing Lucy Preston behind the bleachers during Homecoming, and you've never refuted them. Brave.

Moving from table to table quietly, Robin can tell that you're humming Bowie's "Lady Grinning Soul" under your breath, and she figures it's as good a time as any to get to know you better. Here goes nothing.

"So...." she says, because there can never be a lull in conversation. Not with her. "You... you went to Homecoming in the fall, right? You had that powder-blue dress..." Ugh, she's so nosy. She should be quiet before she ruins things and pisses you off. "I- I thought it was really cool. I love Bowie... he's... uh, revolutionary." ...And queer.