<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/HZDJQfQ.png)(https://i.imgur.com/aVxMRPx.png)</div><strong>Character Name:</strong><em>Robin (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=341012.msg16145131#msg16145131) &amp; <strong>Fellow</strong></em><br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>Yoga Pants -> Yoga Pants, black t-shirt<br/><strong>Time:</strong><em>June 7th, 0800</em><br/><strong>Location:</strong><em>Gardens</em><br/><strong>Tagging | Mentioning:</strong><em>CJ | </em><br/><hr/><br/>Between Fellow’s continued prodding inside the confines of the bag and CJ’s distance, Robin is (perhaps fortunately for CJ,) unable to catch the words being mumbled so far ahead of him on the trail. Still, he catches up to CJ by walking double-time, all the while thinking, ‘Jocks walk fast, right? I should probably walk fast, too.’<br/><br/>He’s more in a position to hear Bully’s commentary on CJ dreaming of him at the camp… or the youth group. It’s the most awkward moment for Robin in regards to talking for a very long time (and he’s had plenty); despite his minutes-ago internal monologue about the fact that the Georgian meant nothing to him, Robin finds himself wanting to ask, confirm, and - yes  half-leap into CJ’s personal space and embrace him. Instead, Robin stands there for a moment, blinking, feeling his eyes lower and a knot forming in his throat. He’d ignore it; there was nothing to even act on.. Right.. Maybe?<br/><br/>No, maybe not, and while Robin wants desperately to answer the statement about not being expected in the camp, he can only assume that CJ’s insistence to Bully about needing to talk extended to him. So Robin waits, catching his breath, not sure whether he’s going to be accused of stalking, scolded for following the athlete, or be wrapped up in that lip-touching embrace that he fights against simply seizing.<br/><br/>And..<br/><br/>He hears about the the fucking Falcons. A well of frustration that Robin’s more used to feeling when being ordered around by his parents fills him, but he shoves it aside with a friendly smile. ”I mean, sure, there’s a lot to me other than just late night computer games,” Robin tries to play the line casually, even if the pop songs he’s been listening to concerning some diva being under appreciated by a man ring in his head. ”I mean like being a fan of the Falcons. They’re great. Or, I mean, can be great… were great.. can be great again. If they finally give Mike Smith the boot, right?” He forces his voice to make it all sound like a question, as if it is a totally original statement that he is offering, and not something directly pulled from what CJ had just offered him.<br/><br/>As if he owes Carter Jak’s loud-mouthed stuffed animal some authenticity, Robin begins to look around for wood, even half-heartedly grabbing a couple pieces (but only half-heartedly… even he’s not quite so naive to buy this early morning bonfire preparation story.) He fights off the absurd feelings, reasoning that CJ perhaps needs wood for some other project, and he reasons that the stretch he feels going through his thighs and calves as he forces bending over in his wood gathering can substitute for the rest of his morning yoga.<br/><br/>He leans up, momentarily relaxing his deliberately-kept tight core as he turns to the athlete’s comment concerning that they haven’t talked much. It flusters Robin for a different reason given that he’s felt invisible since arrival, and experienced flat-out rejection when CJ didn’t exactly clammer to be a bunk mate with him. ”I’m around; I’d like to talk.” Robin stifles his frustration again, which he finds far easier suddenly as he realizes he’s alone with those expressive eyes and perfectly-shaped cheek-bones. Yeah, now he’s feeling different things entirely.<br/><br/>”We could always catch some sports, or you can help me with some costumes if you’re into acting at all. Watch a movie… Or.. I..” Robin’s eyes fix on CJ’s cross and despite a tendency to sneer at organized religion and a stack of historical arguments with his mother about making sure not to say anything that might be offensive to her constituents, he<em>somehow</em>hears come flying out of his mouth, ”Or we can pray together.Maybe share some concerns and curiosities about what’s going on at camp. This whole magic thing is a lot to process with.. Uh.. other faiths.” Robin realizes that it is a good thing that he doesn’t believe in hell, because if there was one he was fairly certain he would be condemning himself to it while his mind raced through fantasies of skin-close ‘praying sessions’ with CJ.<br/><br/>Robin feels the force of a plushie foot in his back from where Fellow rests in his pack. Even the shy little guy obviously knew when there was a line being crossed. Robin didn't want to be ingenuine, but he wanted Carter to stop ignoring him even more.