<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/aVxMRPx.png) (https://i.imgur.com/r55oiVf.jpg)</div><strong>Character Name:</strong><em>Robin Elliot (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=341012.msg16145131#msg16145131)</em><br/><strong>Wearing:</strong><em>Life preserver, backpack, grey hoodie and sweatpants</em><br/><strong>Time:</strong><em>June 10th, 1:15pm</em><br/><strong>Location:</strong><em>Down River</em><br/><strong>Tagging | Mentioning:</strong><em>Thorne | Ellie, Felix</em><br/><br/><hr/><br/>”Felix is great, yeah. Best brother that I could have.” Robin does not know any other brother, obviously, but he is fairly certain that is true. Sure, he and Felix have had their moments of divergence and disagreement, but they were rarely severe in his opinion… and speaking of the fights they<em>did</em>have certainly wasn’t small-talk in his mind. Robin comments a bit more softly, ”I think we got extra close because sometimes it felt like our parents were against us. I mean, they try, but… I don’t know.  They like to keep up appearances…” Though Robin had not thought about it before, it is a strangely freeing feeling that he can share things that will not somehow get back to his mother in the form of political fire. Her constituents arestates away.<br/><br/>Robin’s easing into the situation is interrupted swiftly by the question - accusation - that he thinks Thorne looks like a clown. He means to say ‘no, that’s not what I meant at all’, but instead he just stares sort of slack-jawed. His brain tugs at words that don’t come. He knows it looks bad, he knows he should say something, but literally nothing comes out. Nothing comes from his worthless tight throat and…<br/><br/>Ellie speaks. He glances at her, pale and grateful. Words still aren’t easy but he can breathe again. ”Yeah, that,” Robin chokes out, looking down.<br/><br/>Robin’s not sure if it’s better or worse that it’s time - past time - to get going.  He’s not exactly sure how to do this, but he knows the general motion with the oars and that he better be doing it in coordination.<br/><br/>Picking up the oars he looks at Thorne, lacking the voice suddenly to communicate with words.  Instead he nods, and when he sees Thorne is ready he begins to paddle in steady strokes, trying to keep reasonable time and his partner. It’s slightly nerve-wracking, but on the other hand, if he’s focused on putting his body into the rowing motion and being attentive to their relative pacing, at least he doesn’t have to fight against the urge to be awkwardly silent after the misunderstanding.<br/><br/>