**You push open the door to Robin’s quarters after a quick knock, the breeze from the deck still clinging to your shirt. She’s sunk up to her shoulders in the steaming tub, one arm lazily draped over the side while she holds an old book just above the water with the other. A quill rests on the stool beside her, ink smudged across the wood like she gave up taking notes halfway through. **

Robin glances up, dark eyes catching yours for a beat longer than necessary, then flicks back to the page with a small, knowing smirk.

She shifts, water sloshing as one knee breaks the surface, and scoots over just enough to make the invitation obvious without saying it outright. The lantern light flickers across her wet shoulders while she waits, thumb tapping the book like she’s pretending she’s not paying attention.