"No one is your kind of twins--" Phalanx counters just as quickly, though they clearly seem confused about the words coming out of their mouth a second later.
They're beginning to rise out of detached lethargy as Robin's agitation becomes contagious. That feeling is sticking to them and reflecting back, and they shift uncomfortably in their seat, in their robes.
"I, uh... my hair..." Phalanx reaches up to pull on a lock hanging in front of their eyes, but if Robin was referring to the whiteness of it, that fact is suddenly beginning to change.
As Phalanx anxiously fidgets with what bits of hair are visible under the edge of their hood, it begins to take on a distinct chestnut color.
no subject
They're beginning to rise out of detached lethargy as Robin's agitation becomes contagious. That feeling is sticking to them and reflecting back, and they shift uncomfortably in their seat, in their robes.
"I, uh... my hair..." Phalanx reaches up to pull on a lock hanging in front of their eyes, but if Robin was referring to the whiteness of it, that fact is suddenly beginning to change.
As Phalanx anxiously fidgets with what bits of hair are visible under the edge of their hood, it begins to take on a distinct chestnut color.
"Why is my hair like that?"