"Oh," the man says, before very suddenly saying nothing.
It seemed like he was going to, like he'd just gotten an idea or come to a realization, but now he stands quietly, a very tall stranger who only fits in the room because this apartment, this building, this whole city block is just the petrified remains of a much older time, when people were generally taller and some things weren't made out of stone.
But truly, this man is broad and towering like no one they have seen down in the Underground yet. He's got brown hair like Phalanx had, a few hours ago, but it's scruffier and falls over his eyes. His gaze is not directed at the stranger, or at Robin, but rather at some undefined point up near the corner of a boarded-up window.
Robin continues chattering like nothing happened, and like Vincent hasn't started smelling the air in the room as if there were something in particular he was trying to pick up on.
"They're special. Really talented. And listen, I'm going to set them up somewhere downstairs, but until then, they'll need a place to stay..."
"Not here," Vincent interjects, quickly turning his focus back on Robin, "Forget it."
"Aw, Vince...!"
Robin is cut short by the man extending an absurdly long arm, grabbing the front of the man's shirt, and dragging him over to hold him up until his pretty heeled shoes are hanging a good foot away from the ground. It looks effortless, he doesn't even turn his head to look as he says: "Don't fucking start. Get out of my Gods-damned room."
Robin giggles a little, wiggling his feet. He can't help the spread of a shit-eating grin. "Vince, listen..."
"Get out of my fucking bed," Vincent's indignation doubles as it finally occurs to him just how invasive this is, "What the fuck is wrong with--"
"Vince."
And then Robin starts whispering something, and Vincent--though irritable--drags his friend over to be closer to his ear. For a moment, it seems like the two of them have almost forgotten that Phalanx is even there.
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It seemed like he was going to, like he'd just gotten an idea or come to a realization, but now he stands quietly, a very tall stranger who only fits in the room because this apartment, this building, this whole city block is just the petrified remains of a much older time, when people were generally taller and some things weren't made out of stone.
But truly, this man is broad and towering like no one they have seen down in the Underground yet. He's got brown hair like Phalanx had, a few hours ago, but it's scruffier and falls over his eyes. His gaze is not directed at the stranger, or at Robin, but rather at some undefined point up near the corner of a boarded-up window.
Robin continues chattering like nothing happened, and like Vincent hasn't started smelling the air in the room as if there were something in particular he was trying to pick up on.
"They're special. Really talented. And listen, I'm going to set them up somewhere downstairs, but until then, they'll need a place to stay..."
"Not here," Vincent interjects, quickly turning his focus back on Robin, "Forget it."
"Aw, Vince...!"
Robin is cut short by the man extending an absurdly long arm, grabbing the front of the man's shirt, and dragging him over to hold him up until his pretty heeled shoes are hanging a good foot away from the ground. It looks effortless, he doesn't even turn his head to look as he says: "Don't fucking start. Get out of my Gods-damned room."
Robin giggles a little, wiggling his feet. He can't help the spread of a shit-eating grin. "Vince, listen..."
"Get out of my fucking bed," Vincent's indignation doubles as it finally occurs to him just how invasive this is, "What the fuck is wrong with--"
"Vince."
And then Robin starts whispering something, and Vincent--though irritable--drags his friend over to be closer to his ear. For a moment, it seems like the two of them have almost forgotten that Phalanx is even there.