psychoshenanigans | Skeleton City // PSL

And after their little talk of memories, Robin is satisfied with the company and in no hurry to bring Phalanx back to a pinpoint of awareness. He'll simply let them observe the world in peace while he pushes a button and sends them slowly climbing up a series of pulleys towards a much higher, more colorful part of the world.

There are some things to see along the way, easily visible through the bars of their cab, but the really interesting things don't start until they reach the lower tier of the market. It's early in the morning, so the streets are not as packed as they were the day before, and many shops are not open yet--but there are enough early risers and merchants finishing up their night shifts that the sprawl of tents and booths is still fascinating to watch.

The elevator spits them out right at the edge of a line of awnings. A couple people glance at them as they pass, but that's to be expected. They look pretty weird, the two of them.

"Okay, clothes first." Robin takes Phalanx's hand and guides him forward, knowing exactly where to go, "We'll have to find you some pants, a jacket, maybe a cloak..."

Whether it's in response to the growing amount of activity and people all around them, or trying to function while so scattered, more of Phalanx's attention goes toward bundling themself up. Either way, it's good timing--white hair and weird, black eyes become a little harder to notice when they pull their hood forward and start trying to fashion a scarf over the lower portion of their face with their free hand.

At least for now, it's more believable that Robin is leading along some unfortunate person than a potentially magical monster.

That's good. Robin will keep an eye on them to avoid any unfortunate magical mishaps, but he's pleased to see the bundle of spirits--intentionally or not--handling their own appearance.

They don't have very far to go. Robin will keep them away from the part of the market where he'd originally found them, just to avoid any vendors they may have stolen from... But their first stop isn't far from where they'd come up.

He leads them to a large, rectangular tent covered in a pale purple fabric. The edges of the awning are decorated with a gold, geometric pattern, and the "front door" is still wide open. He ducks inside, tugging Phalanx along with him, as a woman starts to answer from where she is pinning things to a form in the corner.

"Hello there, what can I--" She stops, realizing who has just walked in, "--Robin, how are you? What are you doing here this early?"

Robin waves and grins. They apparently have a friendly rapport. She puts her work down, a small woman with a perfectly bald head and a little more color in her skin than most. She's dressed very richly, in a long dress colored a deep, deep blue.

"I'm hoping to dress up my weird little friend," Robin explains plainly, gesturing to Phalanx. She looks confused (and maybe a little skeptical), as she looks the mismatched pile of clothes and blankets over. Robin continues, "A relative just kind of dropped them on me while he's busy with some counsel thing."

There are other things to look at in this tent aside from the woman, of course. There's a plush rug underneath them, and a dozen mannequins dressed up in various jackets, dresses, sashes, and doublets. There are one or two small shelves for tools and accessories, but most of the fabric bolts and other large displays are stacked up neatly on the floor.

This place is incredibly distracting to Phalanx, so there is no chance in the world that they're going to speak up and contradict whatever Robin is saying. The pile of spirits might as well be an oversized toddler, paying the adults no mind while they wander as far as their held hand will allow, trying to look at the interesting tools and pretty fabric.

"I see..." The woman says, still dubious.

But not for long. While Phalanx is distracted by the interior of the store, Robin walks over to the woman to lean down and whisper something in her ear behind one of his gloved hands.

Her expression turns from skeptical to understanding, followed by a small pout as she regards Phalanx in an entirely new light. "Oh, poor thing."

"Yes, yes, but that's neither here nor there right now." Robin also looks a little pitying as he straightens up to talk, though it's entirely for show. "Toba, I have got to get this boy some pants."

"Well, I'll look and see what I have in his size..." the woman, Toba, says with an assured nod, "So long as you're paying for it."

"Oh, of course, of course." Robin waves his hand dismissively, walking back over to see what things are currently catching Phalanx' eye. The woman disappears past a flap into a "back" section of her shop, giving them a moment where no one is watching.

First, it had been the fabric to catch Phalanx's attention, and then the startlingly soft feeling of plush carpet beneath their feet. But, by the time that Robin returns to their side, Phalanx's focus has entirely settled on the tailor's tools and supplies.

Those needles and bobbins, and that open tin of pins are especially attractive, apparently. When Robin reaches them, Phalanx is busy carefully picking up an array of tiny things and lining them up in their palm.

He should be more worried about his unintentionally-thieving friend getting hold of sharp pins and needles, but he isn't. He leans over their shoulder, looking at what what they're gathering, smiling politely.

"What've you got there?"

Yeah, there might already be some of those tiny things hidden (stabbed) into the blanket they're wearing, if we're all being honest with ourselves.

But the ones currently in Phalanx's palm are being held reverently. And when Robin asks about them, Phalanx looks momentarily surprised to see him there, but quickly catches up.

Words are still a little too much to put together. So, when Phalanx looks excited and lifts their hand a little to show Robin, there's just an enthusiastic, "Mm!"

"Ah, look what you found."

It's cute, how they hold these things up to him like a child. To their credit, in some places, those pins are very valuable. But they can't go stealing a nice lady's things, so...

"You know you can't keep those, right?"

By the way a little furrow forms in Phalanx's brow, it's pretty clear that they don't get it. They look up from the pins and needles and bits of thread, peering at Robin's face for an answer.

Oh, goodness. Not a clue, at least not this time.

"Those belong to someone else. They paid good money to be able to keep them."

Robin is explaining this very calmly, even though said "someone else" can be head rifling around in the back and getting closer to the door-flap.

"Why don't you put those down, and we'll get you something else to look at?"

The look of confusion gets worse, this time, and starts to border a little on frustration. So far, compliance has been pretty easy (if clumsy) but Phalanx changes things up a bit by not immediately following along.

Words are difficult, but they try really hard anyway. It takes them a visible moment of focus before they manage it. And when they do, their voice is still soft, but there's an edge of insistence--not arguing, but gently stating as fact.

"Mine."

Okay. So it'll be a little more difficult than simply asking.

"Why are they yours?"

He also isn't arguing, simply asking a question. He wants to know the path of logic that led them here, if there is one at all. Maybe he'll decide it isn't worth the pain of teaching a pile of ghosts about things like the possession of material goods. This would sure explain why he caught him being accused of stealing from a market stall in the first place...

Phalanx's hair gains a bit of color and waviness at the ends as the frustration grows. They press their mouth into a flat frown, looking back down at the trinkets in their hand, and think hard.

"Why are they yours..."

A few seconds go by as they wrestle in their own head, but in the end, they just start to close their fingers around the sharp little things and explain with some exasperation, "Mine."

Ah, now that won't do. Robin's attention shifts from Phalanx to the movement at the door as the woman returns, holding a sizable stack of outfits and pieces of fabric in her arms, so tall that she has to crane her neck to look over them.

"All right, I don't know what kind of styles you're looking for, but I've pulled a few selections..."

As she begins talking and before she can get a good look at anything, Robin casually steps between her and Phalanx, obstructing most of them from view.

"You always make such lovely things," he says, stepping towards her, "Let's see what you've got."

Now, his goal has shifted. It's less trying to convince Phalanx of anything, and more... keeping this woman from noticing anything odd about his friend's appearance. He can explain away a childlike person taking things that aren't theirs, but he can't explain their hair magically changing from white to not-white.

The relief is palpable as Robin gives Phalanx space and stops trying to take away their things. No promises that their hair will halt in its change from one color to another, but they do shut up and keep their head down, so maybe the good tailor won't notice anything too strange.

They're content to keep their attention quietly down at the things in their hands (while they're still out in the open, anyway) and even halfway turn their back on the other two people there, to keep their trinkets safe.

Robin and Toba talk back and forth for a moment, chatting about styles and which fabrics are what. She has a couple of opinions about what's fashionable these days, and Robin casually asks about the morning's business, to which she begins to tell him all about a couple of strange people who came by looking for a coat for some party they were going to, and...

All of it is Robin trying to establish a comfortable tone in the room. After a few minutes (Toba has, by now, leaned back against one of those shelves to recount an earlier argument she'd had with a glass-blower down the street), Robin turns back to Phalanx to get their attention again.

"Hey, Phalanx. Can you come over here for a moment?"

This, Phalanx can listen to without a fight. And maybe Robin has bought enough distance between then and now that Phalanx has returned to some sort of forgiving balance.

It's hard to tell for sure, with the way that both of their hands are bundled up somewhere in the blanket again. There could be pins wadded up in their fingers, stuck in the folds of cloth, or left behind on some shelf. Appearance-wise, Phalanx has found some equilibrium with wavy blondish hair and brown eyes--a little different than what they had first walked in here with, but not shockingly so.

Either way, they toddle over curiously, and at least halfway try to make sure that their blanket doesn't catch on anything as they do so.

"Your name's Phalanx?" The woman says, trying to be friendly. "That's an interesting name."

"It is," Robin answers on their behalf, "I think it's Islentic or something."

He holds up a coat towards them. It's grey, fairly long, and trimmed with ornate black embroidery of flowers and small forest animals. There are several pockets on the inside and outside--but most importantly, it has a large hood.

It seems a bit small compared to their blanket bundle, but Robin thinks it'll actually be a little large, if they can get some of those extra layers off of him.

"Oh, that's a nice neutral one," she starts explaining, "It'll go with everything."

"What do you think?" Robin asks Phalanx, totally prepared to explain away some off-the-wall answer.

"Not yours," Phalanx replies matter-of-factly, after looking over the coat for a moment.

So, at the very least, those words are still rattling around in the memory pan, whether or not the origin of them is. And they look at Robin's face afterward, looking for reaction or more information, probably.

For the first time, Phalanx earns a flat look from the demigod.

"It could be yours, if we pay for it." He puts a smile back on, then, picking a different question. "Can I put this coat on you?"

The woman watches, shifting a little in her spot, before starting to busy herself with folding things next to them instead of watching this interaction straight-on.

Yeah, it's probably best not to watch this straight-on and so close up... but it really shouldn't be missed, either. A little secondhand embarrassment is probably worth it.

Because Phalanx agrees to this suggestion, but is absolutely going to try and comply while still wearing the blanket-cloak. And they just kind of... aimlessly raise their arms sort of out to the side, like they expect Robin to just drape the thing on them or something.

Let the games begin.

Robin sighs, openly, because he wants everyone in the tent to know that this is going to be a tricky situation.

"Would you like any help...?" The tailor starts to ask, but Robin practically cuts her off before she can finish that last word.

"No, we'll be fine. This will just take a moment."

But he walks up to Phalanx anyway, reaches for his blanket, and starts to peel it off of him.

With a fussy sound, the arms that were previously being offered so freely get sucked back towards Phalanx's body when Robin starts peeling. They're not super adamant about it, but it's still enough to be kind of a pain. It's just a moment of anxious fight, before they let Robin tug on their arms like they're not attached to their body anymore.

A thimble and two pins fall to the floor, though. And their hands remain suspiciously folded up.

The pins, as luck would have it, hardly make a sound as they go falling against the carpet. The thimble, on the other hand, is makes just enough of a clunk for an experienced clothier to hear--and she looks over just in time to see it rolling away from Phalanx.

If she is suspicious, concerned, or even curious--Robin keeps on going anyway, intent on getting them out of the biggest blanket and into this nice coat. It is a struggle, but he is patient and determined enough to see it through to the end.

He hopes they like this coat, though. Because he may not have the patience to try on many more.

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