"What are you doing here?" Patrick's voice was louder than Robin would have liked. She hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but when she saw the door left open she couldn't help herself. She noticed wryly that Patrick's voice was not dripping with his usual playboy charm or even arrogance. It was dripping with anger and surprise. What she'd witnessed just now was just him being himself, and amazingly caring. There were no barriers of conceit, or even overconfidence—and what she saw had made her fall for him just a little deeper. So when she'd decided it would be a good time to leave, half distracted for growing infatuation, she'd accidentally knocked down a vase, putting her in her current predicament.

"I just came to apologize, and, well, the door was open…" Robin finished weakly. It sounded stupid, even in her head, especially since she'd just gotten upset at Patrick for eavesdropping during her deposition.

Patrick smirked. "Came to apologize…or because you simply couldn't resist me any longer?"

Robin realized that now that he had gotten over the shock of finding her here, his usual self was back—the façade that hid his true feelings from the outside. "Are you sure you're alright, Patrick? I heard…"

"What you heard doesn't matter," Patrick waved away her concern, his voice turning seductive. "What matters is you couldn't keep away from me any longer, and that's all I care about."

Swallowing hard, Robin shook her head. What kind of a mask did Patrick Drake hide behind? He'd managed to switch from hurt and exposed tobrash and arrogant in five seconds flat. "I came here to apologize," She repeated firmly, crossing her arms.

Patrick shrugged and walked towards her until he towered before her and she was forced to look up into his eyes. He tilted her chin up with his index finger and treated her to a cocky grin. "Well maybe its not too late to change that." He whispered into her ear.

Robin's breath caught in her throat. All rational thoughts left her and she mentally cursed her inability to handle herself around him.

As Patrick's head inclined lower, his lips dangerously close to Robin's, she managed to turn herself away. Drawing in a shaky breath, she repeated with an emphasis she really didn't feel, "I came here to apologize. Nothing else."

Patrick shrugged, as if the blatant rejection was nothing to him. "Suit yourself, Robin, but I think in hindsight you're going to regret it."

Although the fact that Patrick had seemed so vulnerable minutes ago disconcerted her, his irritating arrogance took top priority for the moment. "Maybe I should take lessons from you then," Robin managed straight-faced, "Considering you are the one with the better hind sight."

Patrick seemed to get the reference to his…enjoying the nurses' figures—including their derrieres—but he remained unabashed. "Robin," He chuckled, and Robin grudgingly admired his gorgeous dimples, and the twinkle in his chocolate brown eyes when he smiled. "Robin, green is not a good look for you,"

That snapped Robin out of her trance. "Excuse me? I think you're mistaken, Dr. Drake, because right now I'm seeing red and if you continue being so nauseatingly bigheaded, you are going to be black and blue."

Patrick's smile never wavered. "Is that so?" He asked lazily. "I'm nauseatingly bigheaded? Do I make you sick, Robin?" He sidled back closer to her, "Because I was under the impression that I turn you on."

A shiver went down Robin's spine, but she kept her face impassive. Barely.

"One day I'm going to thaw that icy exterior of yours, Robin Scorpio," Patrick murmured, "In fact, I'm going to make you melt."

Robin knew she should be completely disgusted by his proposition, but she found herself oddly excited by the prospect. All logic was telling her to get out now, before she did something she'd regret, but she desperately wanted to know what made Patrick tick. She knew that wasn't a good idea either, and that Patrick would detest her prying, but someone needed to get behind his mask, and she was just the woman to do it. "What happened between you and your father?" Robin blurted out, and immediately regretted her bluntness—and her timing.

Patrick's facial features visibly changed. The corners of his mouth edged into a frown, and his brow furrowed. He crossed his arms and began to speak, his voice losing its flippant tone. "I don't want to talk about that."

"I know you don't, Patrick, but it might help. I overheard the exchange between the two of you. You need to talk to someone about the pent up feelings you have, or at least explain them to your father. Your relationship will stagnate or worsen otherwise, and I don't think you want that." Robin closed her eyes and took a breath, bracing herself for his answer.

"Who made you head of the Drake affairs, Robin?" Patrick asked coldly. "You're not a psychiatrist, so pardon me when I say that I don't think you know what the hell you're talking about. I think it would be best if you leave now."

The anguish and pain in Patrick's eyes became so clear that Robin's heart twist in empathy. He was obviously hurt by whatever he had gone through with his father, but it was important for him to face those feelings. Robin walked up to him, and forced herself to look him in the eye. "I will," She said, "But I think deep down, you know I'm right." She pushed herself up onto the balls of her feet, kissed him chastely on the cheek, and walked out without another word.