Robin’s breastplate was already unbuckled, so it was the first to go as she strode carelessly into the stables. She set it down on a table, next to where her clothing was folded. Next to go where her gauntlets, then her pauldrons, and boots. The tactician hummed softly to herself as she undressed, a Ylissean tune she’d picked up from someone back in Chrom’s army. She couldn’t quite remember who - it might’ve been something Donnel used to whistle, maybe. Reaching for the hem of her tunic, she began to tug the garment up over her body.<br/><br/>It was just clearing her head when she realised something was wrong.<br/><br/>There was something about the pegasi in the stable which tipped her off; something unusual in the way they were snorting, the way they were shifting about restlessly in the stalls. They weren’t their usual, calm selves. Something had disturbed them; not terribly, they weren’t outright spooked, but something was making them uncomfortable. Someone else was here, someone they weren’t particularly used to.<br/><br/>The twin-tailed tactician hurriedly pulled her tunic the rest of the way over head and tossed it to the ground, then dropped into a crouch by the wall of an unoccupied stall. Her blood ran cold. She hadn’t seen anyone when she came in; was there an unseen attacker lurking? If so, she was definitely not in a good position. Unarmed, clad only in a tight black bra and matching underwear, likely with no allies in shouting distance… her mind ran through dozens of scenarios, none of them particularly promising. The first step was obvious, though; she had to figure out who else was here. Robin reached to snag her robe from where it hung over the edge of the table, digging rapidly into its folds as she searched for the tome she was sure she had in the somewhere, and peeked from a moment around the corner of the stall…<br/><br/>And stopped, letting out a deep breath as she saw the cause of her concern.<br/><br/>It was<i>him</i>. ‘Robin’. Of course it was.<br/><br/>The other Robin made her a little uneasy at the best of times. He was so like her in so many ways - Gods, in his world, he essentially<i>was</i>her - and yet, at the same time, he was entirely someone else. His world had its own Chrom, its own Lucina… it was fascinating, but at the same time, it was like seeing everything she knew twisted just that little bit into something totally alien. Her eyes roamed over his body as he slept, from the book tumbling from his hand to the little pocket of drool forming at the corner of his mouth. He looked… vulnerable.<br/><br/>“You dork,” she muttered softly. She couldn’t blame him for slipping out here to take a nap - she’d fallen asleep in some weird places herself - but his pose sure didn’t look comfortable. From experience, he’d probably be cold and sore by the time he woke.<br/><br/>The tactician hesitated for just a moment, then stood and padded softly, barefoot, towards him. She moved carefully, trying not to wake him, her robe held protectively up to her neck as she approached. When she was just a step away, she slowly knelt down, spread it wide, and lowered it over his body to serve as a makeshift blanket. There; she couldn't do much to keep him from feeling sore, but at least now he might not be cold.<br/><br/>She watched him a moment longer, studying his face and lost in thought, before quietly standing again and creeping back towards the table where she'd started. The tunic was crumpled on the floor where she’d dropped it; her back to her sleeping counterpart, she bent at the waist to pick it up, then carefully dusted it off and began to neatly fold it.