“Well, do your best to hold it in,†said Robin with a soft scoff and a smile. “I’m deeply sensitive.†He said it in a way, like he did with most things, that suggested sarcasm. Even after years of therapy he wasn’t about to disclose any insecurities without a hint of irony. And for some reason, of course, the idea of Fflur judging him made him sick. He was sure there were people all over the country judging him, being annoyed by his voice or finding his American accent questionable, but aside from a couple of fan letters over the years, most of them weren’t voicing their complaints directly.
It didn’t seem to account for his nervousness entirely, but perhaps it was just the way he remembered her being rather harsh on him in school that made up the rest of it.
Tonight, though, they were sort of getting along. Maturity, probably. He knew for sure he was less of an idiot than he’d been at seventeen or so; he wasn’t saying mean things about her to his friends anymore. And she had grown up too, presumably. Not too much, teasing was still apparently integral to their interactions, but in a more adult, less insensitive way. Robin sort of wanted to preserve this, if it was going to become a friendship.
“Let me know when you get tired of schoolchildren, I guess,†he said, watching her stub out her cigarette. She thanked him tersely for the tea.“Oh, no—wait a second, I’m paying for that?†He laughed. “Well, that means you owe me, then.†It was an excuse to keep up a friendship for at least one more cuppa. He’d take things one step at a time.
