Robin lifted his quill and aimed it at the page, running a few thoughts over in his mind. There was still enough left on his plate for the day: laundry had been done this morning, so he would need to go fetch Anna's shirts, as well as the dozen pairs of pants that Morgan had soiled playing around in the mud that came as a result of the rain from the past few days. It had dried up today, at least, so thankfully the excitable little redhead's last pair of pants would remain clean for the day, assuming she didn't rip them practicing finishing moves with Owain and Cynthia or chasing down Yarne. The tactician also needed to make a trip into town to purchase a few supplies for the army: weapons and food, mostly, and so he would make the best of that situation by securing a few of his and his wife's favorite snacks, something to look forward to on the road ahead. The march back through Ylisse and into Plegia for negotiations with Validar was bound to be a long one, and there still existed a number of concerns about the true intentions of Plegia's new king in the tactician's mind, but they needed to get there first. The boat had landed in Port Ferox only two days earlier, and so a lengthy march was inevitable.
But for today, he tapped his quill on the page, he had precious little going on. Errands to run, sure, but no strategies to plan nor battles to fight… Robin took a moment to consider and wondered if this might have been the first time since the end of their war against the Mad King that the tactician had managed to secure any free time. It was a new sensation, if nothing else, to know that he was responsible for almost nothing that occurred this day; the Shepherds already had emergency ambush contingencies in place, so even if disaster visited them, the plan was already created. As a tactician, he was completely out of work for the day.
Which is why fate had to make the work for him. "Hey, baby," his wife saluted, letting herself into his tent and stopping to stretch in the middle of it.
"Good afternoon," he responded, sliding around in his chair to lean back and look at her.
She cocked an eyebrow at him and frowned, "That's all I get?"
He shrugged in surrender, smiling, and stood up to embrace her, pecking her on the lips, "Hello, honey. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Oh, to your pretty little face," she ruffled the man's hair a bit, chuckling, "And to the fact that I was wondering what you were up to just now."
"Well, I was going to draft up some notes…" he supposed, pointing vaguely back at the desk.
Anna eyed the blank sheet of paper abandoned upon the desk, "And how's that working out for ya?"
"Not well," he conceded, "I don't really have much to remark upon today. A few chores, standard stuff for helping the camp, but not a whole lot, in total. I'm not sure what to do with myself, exactly. I think I'm what you people call 'bored.'"
"Well, hey," she fed him a smile, "I'm sure I can figure out some stuff that needs done. I'll get us some entertainment, no problem."
Before her husband could respond, there came a sound from outside the tent, hushed voices going back and forth at one another critically, in apparent fear of something as they murmured, "This is your fault, you know."
"Is not! You brought this on yourself."
"But it was your idea!"
"Well, I didn't make you go through with it!"
"But you were the one who proposed it!"
"I'm not gonna tell him, no matter what, so it's your problem."
"You spineless-! Fine, see if I ever play with you again!"
Robin pushed open the tent flap to find his daughter staring daggers into Cynthia, who had her hands pinned behind her back. Morgan's legs were twitching and she had something tan folded up in her arms. "Oh!" the little redhead's eyes jumped wide open, "Hi, father! I was just swinging by to have a chat with you."
"What about?" he probed with interest.
Before the tactician-in-training could open her mouth a second time, Cynthia bolted, saying nothing to either of them and tearing across the camp. Robin looked after her curiously, and Morgan waited patiently until this episode was ended. "Well," Morgan looked up at her father with compunction and rubbed her neck, "Uh, I was playing around with Cynthia a little, you know, trying to learn how to ride a pegasus… have you ever ridden one, father? I'm told it's a really joyous experience, and I'd love to get a real first-hand account, but, of course, men don't really ride pegasi in Ylisse… I wonder why that is. Is there some kind of rule? I mean, there are male and female wyvern riders, and anyone can be a knight or cavalier… Just kind of an odd idiosyncrasy, huh?"
"Morgan," her father cleared his throat, "Is this leading up to something?"
"R-Right," she stammered, looking down to the fabric in her arms, "So… listen, don't get mad, but there's a small chance I might've caught my pants' pocket on a lance and ripped the entire left leg. Oops."
"'Oops?'" her father repeated.
"I'm sorry!" she squeaked, "Please don't spank me!"
Robin cocked an eyebrow, "I've never spanked you before, Morgan."
She stopped flinching and looked up suspiciously, "Yeah, but… that's what Cynthia said her dad did when she was bad as a little girl."
"Well, I am not Cynthia's father," Robin noted, "nor are you a little girl, so problem solved."
"So…" the little redhead hesitated, "Are we just going to… forget about the pants thing?"
"Oh no," he shook his head, "you're getting punished for that, I just have to figure out what to do. Maybe I'll make you do two extra cooking shifts this week."
The redhead frowned, "Aw, dad…" She enjoyed food, no question, but making it was a much less enjoyable process.
"Don't complain to me, young lady," he pointed a finger at her as he brought her inside the tent, "That was your last clean pair of pants. And what are you wearing now, anyway?"
Morgan remembered her situation and tugged at the waist of her currently-worn pair of trousers, "Oh, these are Cynthia's, she let me borrow 'em. I don't know how she can wear them, though… criminy, these things are tight."
"What's the problem?" Anna requested upon seeing her daughter enter the tent.
"Tell your mother," Robin ordered.
"I… kinda… sorta… ripped my pants," the little redhead rubbed her neck again.
Anna frowned at her daughter, then shrugged, "I suppose it can't be helped. Nothing can keep you out of trouble, can it, sweetie?"
"It was an accident," her daughter provided.
"I know," her mother nodded empathetically, "but that doesn't change the fact that we need to buy you some new ones now."
"You have fun with that," Robin directed, "I think I need to bring some requisitions forms to Chrom."
Anna folded her arms, "Don't you need to do a little shopping yourself today, hon?" The tactician nodded blankly. "Then why don't you come with us? The three of us having a little shopping trip together, it'll be fun!"
"'Fun?'" Robin scoffed, "Anna, I love you, but shopping is a chore, not an event."
"Says you," she nudged him with her elbow, "I've run a shop for umpteen years, you don't think I know how to have a good time shopping?"
"Yeah!" Morgan added, "There's bound to be lots of stuff that you'll like out there, too, father. Maybe you can even buy yourself a new cloak. That one's getting pretty old, isn't it?"
Robin held his favorite garment affectionately, "I happen to like this cloak a lot."
"Well, then we'll find something else," Anna decided, seizing her husband by the wrist, "Either way, you're going. Come on."
"I have a bad feeling in the pit of my wallet," the tactician frowned, being dragged out behind his wife and seeing his daughter bounce by alongside them.
[…]
Regna Ferox wasn't a country known much for its consumer culture, but that didn't seem to impede the folks who crowded around the small market square on that cool, cloudy afternoon, shouting over one another as they passed from stall to stall and shop to shop looking for whatever was on their infinite respective lists for that day. That being the case, Robin, Anna, and Morgan were just three more faces in that crowd with the same end goal in mind.
"All right," Robin surmised, taking in the scenery with marked distaste, "here's the plan: I'm going to the local armory, to see if I can find a few weapons we need around the camp. You two can probably begin at that tailor's right around the corner just up ahead. I'm sure they can find something in Morgan's size."
"Sheesh," Anna scolded her husband, waggling her finger at him, "It doesn't all have to be driven like a battle plan, tactician-boy. We can just mosey up and down the streets and do a little window shopping. The best purchases are almost always impulse buys."
He glared at her warily, "Somehow I get the sense that that is completely untrue. And besides, who wants to spend more time than necessary in all this hustle and bustle? I'd just like to get what we need and get out of here."
"I already told you, that's not how it's going down," his wife shook her head, "let's just take our time and see if we find something."
"Ohmigosh, mom, look!" Morgan jumped and tugged on her mother's sleeve, pointing to a boutique just a few paces up the road, "Look at the pretty dresses they have in there!"
Anna smiled broadly, "Ooh, some of those do look cute. Let's go take a look."
"Dresses? We're headed to an extremely hostile nation to engage in negotiations with a relatively unknown king with an equally murky agenda, all the while trying to understand why monsters have begun crawling across the land taking on the appearance of fallen soldiers," the tactician remarked with incredulity, "How can you be thinking about dresses?"
Morgan's bottom lip wobbled and her eyes became glassy, "O-Oh yeah… I guess you're right, father… I just wanted to have a peek to see if there was anything that might fit me so that I could go to dances and stuff when this war's all over, but I suppose it's better to think in the now…" The little redhead wiped the corner of her eye discreetly while Anna stared severely at her husband.
He acknowledged the pressure and melted, "Uh, no… You're right, Morgan. I guess you can't keep wearing my hand-me-downs forever. A beautiful young lady like you deserves some proper clothes."
"Really?" she brightened up quickly, "Oh, thank you, father! Let's go have a look!" The tactician-in-training booked it over to the boutique, winking at her mother before her parents both began walking after her.
This was definitely a new scenario for Robin. He had already made it abundantly clear he didn't shop for pleasure, but waiting around for women to look at dresses within a dress boutique was something he simply did not do at all. He tried to make it clear to his wife that he loved her dearly and that she would look stunning no matter what she wore, and so as to avoid the hassle of his constant griping, she had never forced him to go shopping for clothes with her, especially because her husband was extraordinarily skilled at crafting excuses from those trips at the last moment. Chrom always needed something done at just that moment, which would tear the poor, apologetic tactician away from the situation. Today, though, he stood amid the rows of brightly colored fabrics and folded his hands behind his back, doing his best not to look strange as he waited, gazing at nothing in particular. An amateur violinist was performing on the street just outside, so he tried to concentrate on that.
"Can I help you find something, sir?" a Feroxi woman with short black hair and a jovial smile walked up to him.
Robin tried his best to swallow his embarrassment, "Uh, no, thank you. I'm just waiting on my wife and daughter."
"Oh?" the clerk smirked at him, "shouldn't you be helping them choose?"
More than a bit uncomfortable, the tactician deflected, "I don't know a thing about fashion. I couldn't be any help whatsoever."
"But surely your wife would like your opinion," she pressed further.
Robin shook his head vehemently, "I'm certain she wouldn't."
The clerk ended the engagement with a low noise of evaluation: "Hm. Let me know if there's anything I can do for you."
"I will," he waved her off, "thank you."
"What do you think of this one, mom?" Morgan called from the next aisle over, holding up a royal blue dress that fit her figure.
At first glance, the dress seemed very appropriate for the girl, and her mother genially noted as much, "It looks very nice, honey. Would you care to try it on?" In saying this, the merchant summoned another of the boutique's clerks to her side. The young woman was happy to escort a starry-eyed Morgan to a changing room in the back.
Meanwhile, Anna found her husband again, and showed him a pair of long, flowing evening gowns, one emerald and the other ruby. "What do you think, baby?" she winked at him, holding the dresses in front of her chest for comparison, "Green or red?"
"Er, maybe the green?" he supposed.
Anna frowned, "Really? I thought red was more my color."
"It's just that you wear red so often, I thought you might want something different," Robin guessed, rubbing his neck.
"So I dress boring? Is that what you're saying?" she scowled.
"No!" he waved his hands, "I don't know! If you like the red, why did you bother asking?"
She folded her arms, "I wanted to see if we were in sync. Clearly, we aren't."
Her husband pinched the bridge of his nose, "This is why I don't like shopping."
"How's it look, mom?" Morgan requested her mother from across the room. Anna hustled on over to have a glance, and Robin got up and decided to take his first-ever glimpse at his daughter in a dress. He would grow to regret it immediately: the dress was cut far too low for the young girl wearing it, and despite the size being correct, it hugged her figure in a way that made it uncomfortable for her father to continue looking at her.
"Well," her mother smiled weakly, "It may be a little small on you, honey."
"Oh, shoot," the smaller redhead looked herself over, "I've never worn one before, I didn't know if this was how it was supposed to be."
"It's not terrible, but I think you're showing a little too much skin, kiddo," Anna concluded.
"I'm inclined to agree," Robin managed, his head pointed at the floor.
Morgan put her hands on her hips, "How can you tell? You're not even looking."
"I saw more than enough," her father croaked.
Anna scanned the rack nearest to her quickly and found a solid black dress. She handed the garment to her daughter with a bright smile, "Try this one, sweetie. I think you'll really shine in it."
Morgan took it ecstatically and dove back into the changing room. "She's an enthusiastic girl," the clerk who had led her over mentioned to her parents.
"Tell me about it," Anna chuckled.
"She can be a handful," her husband agreed.
In only a minute or two, Morgan re-emerged from the changing room sporting the onyx dress, and she stuck out her hand to give her entrance a bit of extra flare, "How's this one?"
"Gorgeous!" Anna clasped her hands together, smiling with admiration.
Robin had to concede that he did like being able to see his daughter dressed up like any other girl, ready to spend the evening dancing in big ballrooms and chatting it up with other girls her age. That was the life she deserved, and so he smiled, "You look lovely, Morgan."
"Thanks, father," she replied with thinly-veiled glee, "So... can I buy it?"
"I'll have to see how much it costs," Robin answered, looking along the rack beside his wife for any indicator of price.
"Horsetails," Anna smacked him on the back, "you're going to buy your little girl that dress because it looks spectacular on her, whatever it costs."
The clerk was all too happy to resolve the conflict, "It's twenty-one hundred gold, sir."
Robin's eyes went wide for a moment, but he thought better of trying to argue the point and fished his wallet out of his pocket, forking over the money, which the clerk gladly counted. Morgan was sad to have to put the new dress away, but was pleased to know that she could put it back on as soon as she got home, so said her mother. "This is a little pricey, don't you think?" Robin strained a whisper at his wife.
"Nope, and I'm still getting one," the redhead smiled triumphantly, marching her own choice (a ruby-red dress) to the clerk.
"Four thousand for this one," the young woman informed Robin. He dejectedly handed over the other sum, and breathed a sigh of relief as his family exited the boutique.
"Now," Robin looked for the sun amid the dense clouds, "we probably spent about an hour in there, so we should really get around to finding those weapons and leaving.
"Hey, I know this little corner café," the merchant pointed to any ivy-coated wooden building across the street about a block away from the trio, "Let's have a little lunch, huh?"
"Sure, I'm starved," Morgan followed. Robin's head drooped.
The café was, at least, slightly more pleasant than the boutique in that Robin could sit down and get something to drink with his money, what little of it remained following the escapade today. When the three entered, they were seated by a window and each given a piping-hot cup of tea. That much, Robin appreciated, as he took a small sip of the beverage and set it down, feeling his nerves relax a bit. He watched Morgan lift her cup to her lips and slurp indelicately, then saw her face squeeze together as she swallowed and shouted, "Ouch! Hot!"
"Tea is always hot, honey," he frowned sympathetically, "you have to drink it more slowly."
"Who has the patience to drink slow?" the smaller redhead complained, fanning her tongue.
"Are you okay?" her father hoped.
"I could use some ice water," she mewled. Robin waved for a server, who brought the second beverage over hastily, to Morgan's gratitude. Anna only smiled and shook her head.
"So, how are you liking the shopping extravaganza so far, tactician-boy?" Anna winked at her husband.
"I don't think I have to tell you," his eyes were glazed as he stared back.
"Loving it?" she grinned, "That's what I thought."
Shortly after the tea had arrived, another server came around and placed a tray full of sandwiches and sliced fruit in front of the family, expressing her hope that they would enjoy. Robin and Anna both examined the offerings first, but Morgan dug into the spread without asking any questions, and so, to salvage some of the meal for themselves, both parents stole some of the food and hoarded it on their side of the table while the little redhead mopped up the rest. "At least you've got a healthy appetite, Morgan," her father commented idly.
"Well, when you've got a body this perfect and you're working out every day, you gotta keep your energy up," the tactician-in-training responded pridefully, "But you can't argue with the results! Check out these guns!" The little redhead rolled up her sleeves and flexed her biceps in her father's direction.
He cocked an eyebrow at her, "Has your mother been teaching you to talk like that?"
"Don't blame me," Anna smirked, "Her training regimen is very impressive, unlike some people I know. A little jealous of your daughter's physique, perhaps?"
"Oh, it's okay, dad!" Morgan jumped, "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. If you want, we can work out together, and then we'll both be in fantastic shape. That'd be fun, wouldn't it? Father and daughter, working on their core together, breaking down the villains of the world!"
"Sounds like as much 'fun' as this shopping trip," he griped.
"That's the spirit," his daughter grinned.
Robin sighed and bit into a slice of apple as a piece of paper was dropped onto the table before him: a bill for sixty gold. He begrudgingly sat the money on the table, leering at the server who'd so callously dropped the check in his lap and defiantly savored the rest of his fruit before the group got up and left the table. As they wandered out onto the crowded streets, the air getting darker and cooler as they proceeded, Robin again tried to cull his family's attention, "So now, the armory is just a few streets down..."
"Wow..." Morgan fawned, gazing across the street, "There are so many shops... Hey, I think that one's a book store! Maybe I can get my hands on a bit of reading material for the road."
"Sounds like a plan," Anna reached a hand around her husband's waist, "What about you? In the market for some new literature?"
"Since 'no' clearly isn't an answer, I suppose I'll find something," he resigned, following his daughter along.
The book store, too was a place wherein Robin hoped he could find some sense of solace, and he did, briefly, by finding several rows of historical and military texts, although he'd already read most of them by browsing the Ylissean Royal Library. A few unfamiliar stories poked out at him, however, and he gathered three or four books on histories of various crusades that had divided continents oceans apart from Ylisse and Valm, as well as a book on philosophy supposedly authored by the Archsage Athos of Elibean legend. Another book stuck out to Robin, though, as he noticed the publishing information and carried it over to his wife. "What's this about?" he cocked an eyebrow at her.
Anna whipped her head around, as she had been watching her daughter browse, and glanced curiously at the cover, whereupon she received the message, "Uh, it appears to be a short nonfiction piece on the philosophy of the divine dragons as stated by Naga's voice, Tiki."
"Right," he flipped the book's cover open suspiciously, "but what I want to know is why are you listed as the publisher?"
"That could be any Anna," Anna shrugged.
Robin read, "'Published by the Voice's own personal friend and comrade Anna, who accompanied her alongside Chrom's special militia known as the Shepherds in defeating Walhart the Conqueror.'"
The merchant stammered, "Uh, that doesn't prove anything... And besides, what's the big deal? It's just a collection of sermons Tiki has given. I think she'd want them to be heard."
"But it's being sold for a profit," her husband noted, "Didn't she threaten to eat you the last time you pulled something like this?"
Anna scratched her neck, looking for a way out, "You can keep a secret, right?"
"I can keep blackmail, absolutely," he grinned at her impishly.
"Great," she sighed, "Put up with this or be dragon food... I honestly don't know which is worse."
"Father, could you come here for a minute?" a voice requested from the back of the shop.
"Coming, dear," he answered, then turned to his wife, "Try not to sell my likeness in the meantime."
Anna grumbled as he walked away, "...Tell me what to sell, I'll sell something, all right, you big..."
Robin sidled up next to Morgan, her nose firmly planted in a book. He didn't disturb her and waited for her to finish, whereupon she looked up in surprise, "Oh, hey dad. I was wondering if I could get a recommendation."
He smiled pleasantly, "I'd be happy to provide one. What are you looking for?"
"Well," she snagged another book off the shelf, "in particular, I'm trying to decide between two novels, and I'm wondering if you can tell me if either is any good. I have 'Lancefaire' and 'Formshift.' I think the latter is older."
Robin took the books out of his daughter's hands and flipped through a few pages of each, skimming the text, then paused and grimaced before replacing them on the shelf, "I think you should stay away from those books, honey."
"Why's that?" she wondered.
"The subject material is a little... adult," Robin blushed, "and frankly, I think you can find better storytelling elsewhere."
"Oh, I know they're adult literature, father," Morgan giggled, "I've read lots like 'em."
"Y-You have?" Robin started, "Why? When? How?"
"I poke my head into just about every book store and library we pass," the little redhead beamed, "Some of them only have this dirty stuff, though, so I've gotten used to it. There's actually a certain charm to a lot of these. Plus, the titles are usually pretty funny. I mean, 'Lancefaire,' for example, it's a metaphor for-"
"We're leaving," he seized his daughter by the wrist.
"Aw," she pouted, "Can I at least get the one about science exploring the mind? Miriel and Laurent told me that one's full of great ways to torment-I mean influence people. It could be invaluable for me and mom."
The tactician raised an eyebrow, then nodded, "Yes, you can have that one, now let's get moving." Robin hooked his arm around his wife as they moved past, dropped his payment off at the building's front desk, and then exited.
"Now listen," Robin began as they left the building, feeling his frustration begin to set in. The clouds covered the sky, but it was clear that the sun was setting, as street lamps were being set aglow and the streets themselves were being covered by the murky indigo ink of dark, which meant that several hours had been wasted in the pursuit of a bunch of purchases that were completely unnecessary while Robin had failed to accomplish the one and only thing that was on his schedule for the day, a fact that had driven him absolutely mad at this point. He was prepared to raise his voice when Anna suddenly took his hand.
"Hey, baby, before you go on, can I say something?" she murmured close to his ear.
"This is kind of important," he growled defiantly.
"So's this," his wife assured him, "I just want to say something real quick. It'll only take a sec."
The tactician bent his head and sighed, "Go ahead."
"I just really wanted to thank you for today. I know it wasn't your favorite, but to just put aside all the fighting and management and haggling and just go out to do a little impulse shopping... it felt really good, like the weight of the world fell off my shoulders for a little bit. I haven't felt like this since I was a teenager, just drifting between stores with my mom on her off days... I'm glad Morgan got to experience something like that, too. The poor girl works so hard, and all she's ever really known is war thanks to that amnesia of hers, so I'm really happy that we could give her at least one day of living like a normal teenage girl," Anna whispered with a smooth smile, winding her arm around her husband's affectionately.
"Uh..." Robin swallowed, "N-No problem."
"Oh, father," Morgan waved her hand a bit in front of her father's face.
"What is it, Morgan?" he cracked a tiny smile.
"I just wanted to say thanks. I know mom and I have been driving you a little wild today, but this is, like, my first shopping trip ever, and it's been so much fun! I imagine this is the sort of thing the other girls got to do when they were younger, too, so this kinda makes me feel... Well, for lack of better phrasing, it makes me feel like I'm in a real family again," grinned the shorter redhead.
Robin looked back and forth between his two girls and smiled a little, then turned his head back and breathed heavily. "What's the matter, Robin?" Anna put a hand on his shoulder.
"N-Nothing," he assured them, "j-just a little something in my eye. At any rate, your very welcome, Morgan. I'm sorry your father has been a little blasé about the whole affair."
"More than a little," Anna folded her arms and nudged her husband.
"Aw, I get it dad," the tactician-in-training continued smiling, "I know shopping's not really your thing, but I'm glad you could put up with it for a bit for my sake. Sometimes family means making sacrifices for each other, huh?"
The tactician's lips wobbled again, "Uh, that's right, sweetie. Ahem, but, uh, your dad didn't really make any big sacrifice. Being around you and your mom is always a pleasure, even when you get on my nerves a little."
She giggled, making her father's smile elongate, "I guess that's a compliment."
"It is, Morgan, really," he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her head, "Your father loves you, and he's more than happy to spend time doing whatever you like with you."
"Thanks, father," the little redhead pecked him on the cheek in return, "I love you too."
"That goes for you as well," the tactician looked up and kissed his wife.
"Yeah? Well, I did marry you, so likewise, tactician-boy," the merchant leaned her head onto his shoulder, "And now that we've gotten that out of our system, was there something you wanted to say?"
"Oh, right," Robin cleared his throat, "Uh..." He hesitated, gazing down at his daughter's sparkling eyes and, in his peripheral vision, at the fond gaze of his wife, "Um... Is there anywhere else you ladies really felt like going?"
"Not that I can think of," Morgan shrugged simply.
"No, we can go snag those weapons now, if you like," Anna suggested.
Robin smiled and kissed his wife again, "Nah. That can wait until tomorrow. It's getting late, so what say we hit up a tavern and get a nice big meal before we head back? My treat."
"Sure thing," the merchant assented.
"I hope they have giant steaks," Morgan rubbed her hands together, "I've been waiting for a chance to chow down on some beef, since we don't get a lot at camp."
"I'm sure they will," Robin pulled her against his side.
The trio walked slowly, arm in arm, down the streets, which were gradually becoming less crowded. Night would fall soon, and Chrom would be wondering where his tactician went for the whole day, and how he managed to go there without performing his one and only task for the day. When asked, Robin would already have the answer prepared: he was taking his first and only personal day, a chance to spend time with his wife and daughter. After all, swords could be bought in any town, but seeing Morgan with a big silly grin plastered on her face as she tried on dresses, ate whole plates of food, and leafed through inappropriate books... well, tiring as it was, those would become fond memories, which, Robin had found, were a far rarer commodity, especially to himself and his little girl.
"Does this mean we can go shopping again next week?" Morgan posed while skipping along.
Robin glanced at his wife, who smirked at him. He hung his head and sighed.