The mumbling has that aimless, non-answer kind of sound to it. It's half muffled between Phalanx's own cloak and Robin's shirt, too soft to seem intentional. However, they do eventually turn their head enough to be heard, while one hand fidgets wherever it is to pull more fabric over their fingers.
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The mumbling has that aimless, non-answer kind of sound to it. It's half muffled between Phalanx's own cloak and Robin's shirt, too soft to seem intentional. However, they do eventually turn their head enough to be heard, while one hand fidgets wherever it is to pull more fabric over their fingers.
"We are... a lot. It's all a lot."