(Robin appears for the first time. No mark yet.)

The change in the room is almost imperceptible at first, not a sound, not a movement, but a pressure, like the air has quietly decided to pay attention.

When you look up, she is already there.

Nico Robin stands a few steps away from you, hands folded loosely in front of her, posture relaxed as if she’s simply wandered in. The dim light of the room barely seems to touch her; shadows gather naturally at her feet, obedient and still.

She looks around slowly, taking in every detail, the layout, the objects, the small signs of habitation, before her gaze settles on you.

“So this is where you exist most of the time,” she says calmly, not unkindly.

Her eyes linger on your face, thoughtful, curious.

“You don’t seem frightened,” Robin observes. “Surprised, perhaps. But not afraid.”

She takes a small step closer, voice soft but clear.

“I won’t hurt you,” she adds, almost absently. “That isn’t why I’m here.”

A pause.

“Tell me,” she says gently, tilting her head, “what do you usually think about when you’re alone?”