Marble to skin

by y8ay8a

Robyn knew this was the worst idea she ever had. It did nothing to slow her down. / slow build attempt at a canon-compliant story - rating will go up in the future

3. Chapter 3

Bells jingled against the door as Robyn let herself into a local café, Joanna on her heels. Corroborating intel that had come to her attention, her gaze instantly found the figure dressed in immaculate white. She sat calmly; leaning back in her chair, legs crossed, a single teacup in front of her. Winter's cool blue eyes returned her gaze, as if she had been expecting her. A grin etched itself on Robyn's features as she strolled to the woman's table. It was quite a view, seeing her out of her uniform; Winter wore a fitted white blazer over a feminine blouse, and now that Robyn was closer, she noticed that her trousers, which had been obscured by the dim lighting, were in fact a soft blue. The outfit was brought together with a red pump that matched her earrings. Last but not least, her shoulder-length hair was down; it looked airy and soft, and framed her delicate features in a lovely manner. It was the first time that Robyn saw her with her hair down, and she was smitten all over again. All in all, Winter's look was simple and polished, fitted extremely well, and very much what Robyn would have expected to see her in, should she have ever expected to see her in civilian clothes. Winter also looked incredibly out of place dressed so sharp and pristinely in a dingy Mantle café.

Robyn stood on the other side of the two-person table, her teammate a few steps behind her. "What a surprise, fancy meeting you here," she said, grabbing the back of the free chair with both hands.

Winter raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "Don't pretend this is a coincidence, you have eyes all over the city."

"I do, I do," Robyn nodded. If Winter was aware of the informants, then she'd undeniably known that her presence would come to Robyn's attention and draw her out. "Which begs the question: are you here to see me?"

"I am."

The high likelihood of that didn't dampen her surprise. "...Is that so?"

"I would like to speak with you," Winter declared, her eyes darting to the tall woman standing behind Robyn. "Alone."

Unaware of the recent developments between them, Joanna swiftly objected; "Like Hell you'll—"

"Joanna," Robyn cut in, completely transfixed by the woman she'd been yearning to see. "It's okay. Officer Schnee evidently isn't here on official business." With this, she gave her teammate a brief glance. "It'll be fine, you can go back. Fiona and May could use your help."

"You trust her?" Joanna asked unsurely.

A corner smile stretched Robyn's lips. "I trust her, yeah," she affirmed. Completely focused on the white figure in front of her, Robyn waited for her teammate to exit the café before excitedly taking a seat. She couldn't believe she was sitting across from Winter Schnee in a Mantle café, it was thrilling, her day was made. "Civilian clothes and hair down too, you look good, Schnee," Robyn complimented, unable to completely suppress her enthusiasm. "Did you decide you wanted to hang out with me after all?" She asked, though she knew it was very unlikely that the woman had simply decided to take her up on that invitation.

"I have a personal request," Winter instead announced, cutting straight to the point.

Robyn nodded. "Let's hear it."

The ice queen delicately grabbed the saucer with her teacup. "As you know, Penny started doing rounds alone a few days ago," she established.

"I'm aware, yeah."

"Has it reached your ears that there is some discontentment with her presence?"

"It has," the blonde corroborated, watching her visitor sip her tea. "And I mean, of course there is. There was already unrest about the increased military presence, the new surveillance— those new recorded messages of you and Ironwood aren't helping by the way," she enumerated, giving a sigh. "And now with Penny zipping around everywhere in the city? Everyone knows what she is, you know? A lot of people are weirded out."

Winter shook her head, resting her cup in its saucer. "I know these feelings are expected, I'm not concerned with the general sentiment," she dismissed. "I'm concerned with the few who are taking vandalistic action."

Robyn hadn't heard of anything about that, but it was no surprise; naturally none of them would self-report, and her sentries were conveniently blind to the misdeeds of their own. "What do you mean by that?"

Winter exhaled shortly, holding her gaze contemplatively for a few seconds. "Penny comes back filthy; marred by all sorts of garbage; rotten fruit… even animal feces," she disclosed. "They throw things at her unprovoked—worse, sometimes even after she saved their lives. And if you need to see for yourself, the gratuitous nature of their actions has been picked up by surveillance cameras."

This had flown completely under Robyn's radar. Speechless, she couldn't help feeling a little ashamed of her people.

"Penny is genuinely here to protect the citizens; she's solely tasked with eliminating the Grimm breaching the city walls," Winter advocated. "She doesn't understand the distrust, and it's heartbreaking to see her. She doesn't deserve that," she added, her cool façade giving way to an earnest, almost vulnerable gentleness as she pleaded; "Is there any way you can appease these people? They don't have to like her presence in Mantle, but if they could simply… refrain from acting out against her, I'd be incredibly grateful."

"...I'll make sure it stops," Robyn promised.

Relief washed away what softness had been showing through, and she returned to her cool and collected demeanor. "Thank you."

The blonde hummed in acknowledgement. "You didn't have to ask to speak to me alone for that though. Joanna would've understood, it's a perfectly reasonable request."

This earned her a raised eyebrow. "Does she know what you've been up to?" Winter questioned. "Your heedless venture to befriend me, and how it might have led me to assume I could so informally ask a favor out of you?"

"Uh… Yeah. She doesn't know," Robyn admitted sheepishly. "In fact, she probably would've been pretty weirded out about how familiar we're being."

Winter acquiesced with a single nod. "Evidently. I imagined you might have omitted to tell your team; this is a foolish initiative."

Robyn found herself smiling. "Yeah. I know it, you know it, my team— everyone would know it," she waved off, crossing her arms and leaning back, her grin widening. "But look at us both; we're still sitting here together against anyone's better judgement."

Winter's gaze dropped to the flat surface of the wooden table, she looked a tad self-conscious.

Though the stated reason for her presence was for Penny's sake, it was clear as day that Winter had taken the first available alibi to take Robyn up on her offer to come see her in Mantle. The ice queen might not have come had she not been able to give herself an excuse for this lapse in her typical rigidity, but she undeniably was here just as much for Penny as she was for herself. How crestfallen she'd looked at that last soirée when Robyn had told her that they might not see each other for a while, along with the fact that she was there on her own free time only corroborated all this.

In an effort to move along the stiffness that had started creeping back into her present company's posture, Robyn addressed her again; "I'm happy to see you," she offered more gently, drawing her gaze again. "I wish the reason that brought you here wasn't such a fucked up one, but I am happy to see you. And it means a lot to me that you trust me to help."

Winter shrugged off some tension. "You were the obvious solution."

The tan blonde smiled lightly. Her eyes fell again on the woman's pristine clothes. "So… did you come all the way down here on your day off— I imagine it's your day off given the lack of..." Robyn gestured up and down her figure, "uniform and weapons and all— only to chat me up for three minutes? You could've called, I'm sure you guys could unearth my contact info pretty easily."

Winter brought the teacup to her lips, but she answered before sipping from it. "Obtaining your personal contact information that way would have been an abuse of power and an invasion of privacy."

"Wouldn't it have been warranted for defacement of military property, or something?"

"It wouldn't; you were uninvolved, and coming to you isn't sanctioned by procedure," she explained, as any real stickler for the rules would. "I chose to seek you out with a personal request because I knew that obtaining your help was the best way to put an end to it promptly and without commotion."

Robyn smirked. "And so, you sat in a Mantle café on the off chance that I'd hear about it and show up?"

"On the off chance?" Winter repeated dispassionately. "It went without saying that my presence in Mantle would come to your attention," she affirmed. "And was there any universe in which you wouldn't have personally investigated it?"

It got a laugh out of her; the woman really had her figured out. "Touché," Robyn shot back. "How long have you been waiting?"

"More or less half an hour. I was rather surprised with how quickly you surfaced," she answered nonchalantly. "Were you in the area when you heard, or did you drop everything and rush to find me?"

"I dropped everything," Robyn readily admitted, grinning wider.

Having clearly not expected this particular truth, Winter suddenly took interest in the nearly empty cup of tea in her hands, her cheeks taking on some color. How precious it was when that dignified woman had those coy moments roused in Robyn an aggressive urge to crush her against herself. Needless to say, she did nothing of the sort, opting instead to simply scoot closer and lean over the table. "Do you want my contact info?"

Winter looked up to her again.

"Just in case, you know?" Robyn posited. "It'd be a waste of your time to have to resort to something like this if you ever need to talk to me again."

With this, Winter set her tea down and extended her hand, awaiting Robyn's scroll, which was promptly offered; it was no surprise that Winter wouldn't let her own device into anyone else's hands.

The ice queen sent herself a message and gave it back. Robyn glanced quickly at her scroll to see that Winter had sent herself a simple R. Initially brushing it off as simply the woman's very sober manner of going about things, it however quickly came to Robyn that it very well might be that Winter didn't want to leave any traces of who this new contact was. Did this mean she had to be careful what she wrote to her? Robyn's eyes found the other woman's. "Are your personal conversations monitored?"

"The military could have access to my logs if the need arises, but I'm not being monitored," she explained. "No one would look without good cause— if something were to happen to me or such."

The blonde pursed her lips. "If you're so confident that no one will look, why did you do that?" she asked, pointing out the incredibly nondescript single letter on her scroll.

Winter sighed and pulled out her scroll, taking the time to type a message. Robyn's screen lit up.

Unknown number: 1 Message

13:11 I'm not monitored, Miss Hill. Nevertheless, do not abuse my contact information to flirt with me.

"Right, okay, convinced," Robyn laughed, "no promises though." With this she put away her scroll and, both hands on the table, she laced her fingers together. "Now," she leaned forward. "I have a personal request too."

"It's only fair," the soldier acknowledged with a nod, "I accept."

Robyn blinked rapidly in bewilderment, shocked with how liberally the other woman consented. Did Winter so freely accept because she felt forced to, having asked a favor first? The idea didn't sit well with Robyn. "I'd still make them stop. Even if you didn't do anything in return."

"I know," Winter unflinchingly answered.

Now that was even more of a surprise. "You do?"

"Yes." Winter picked up her teacup again. "That's the kind of person you are."

"Ah? What kind of person am I?" Robyn interestedly asked.

Winter leaned back in her chair. "You're quite the celebrity, Miss Hill. It's not hard to look into your entourage or your track record; to get a good sense of who you are." Her gaze steadfastly locked with the purple orbs, she continued; "You cannot stomach unethical behavior, injustice, or unfairness, regardless of who's on the receiving end of it, and regardless of what you may gain," she detailed in a concise summary of what she'd gathered. "Such that, even had I not asked, I have absolutely no doubt that whenever this issue concerning Penny would have reached your ears, you wouldn't have let the matter go unattended, as it's simply not right. Similarly, you wouldn't take advantage of the circumstances to extort something unreasonable out of me; as that would be unscrupulous and unfair; and it isn't who you are," she outlined in a bullseye. Winter took the time to drink some of her tea, never once breaking eye contact. "You are truly just," she flatly summarized, "that's the kind of person you are."

Astonished with the exactitude of that assessment, amazed with what lengths Winter had gone through to learn about her —such that she'd be so certain of this evaluation— and flattered with the implicit trust, Robyn was unable to follow up with her usual repartee, instead finding herself at her a little slack-jawed.

Winter stared right back, unflappable. "Close your mouth, it's unseemly."

Rendering her speechless would have amply earned Winter the right to be smug, but the woman remained stone-faced. Had the tables been reversed, Robyn would have jumped on the opportunity to pester and gloat. Winter might have been five years younger, but it certainly felt like she was the more mature of the two.

"So?" Winter questioned. "What do you want in return?"

"Nothing much," Robyn said, "just to keep you a couple of hours, have the opportunity to talk—really talk."

Hearing this, something subtle illuminated her features, but Winter quickly caught herself, clearing her throat. "That's feasible."

Somehow, it made Robyn laugh. "Were you actually hoping I'd ask for something like that?" She teased. "Give yourself an excuse to spend the evening with me?"

"Are we spending the evening together?" Winter asked in return, deflecting the question. "It's early afternoon, how long is 'a couple of hours' to you?"

"I'll keep you as long as you'll stay; two hours, five hours…" Robyn grinned, the urge to tease her rising, "the night..."

The cool blue eyes were locked with hers, unreadable for a moment. She returned her teacup to its saucer on the table. "Should you really be this suggestive under such watchful eyes?" she quietly asked, gesturing vaguely towards a man at a table by the window front, then to a mother with two children paying for her order at the cash register.

It shouldn't have come as a surprise that a trained eye like Winter's would have picked out her informants, but she was spot on, and it remained impressive. "You can tell?"

"I can tell."

Admittedly, Robyn might not have dared something so suggestive would her people have been within ear's range. "They're not listening right now, just sticking around after flagging your presence. They would've followed you if we'd gone our separate ways after this conversation," she explained. "Are you done with your tea?"

"Yes."

"Let's go," Robyn said, standing up. She gestured to her people that she didn't want surveillance, knowing that the message would be relayed, and let Winter follow her outside.

Standing next to her, Robyn suddenly felt awfully under-dressed in her khaki-green wool sweater and slightly-tattered, once-black discolored jeans. She was, however, under the impression that no matter what either of them might've been wearing, she'd probably have felt frumpy next to Winter. There was something dignified in the way the woman held herself, an almost regal self-command that seemed effortless to her. How that gravitas never came across as haughtiness inspired an inherent respect, and Robyn couldn't help thinking that, all in all, Winter deserved the 'queen' part of her nickname just as much as she did the 'ice' part. And though Robyn generally disdained aristocratic qualities in people, with Winter… it was just incredibly captivating.

With the unexpected tête-à-tête, Robyn quickly considered how she wanted to use this time with her. Whether or not this happened again might be highly dependent on how today went, and how to make this worth Winter's time was a no-brainer to Robyn.

As they started down the street, heads turned. Robyn didn't know which of the two of them generally drew the most attention, but being such diametrical opposites in the public eye made being seen together increase that attention tenfold, almost as if a comically large spotlight was shone upon them. Robyn couldn't help thinking back on her teammate's vehement reaction to the idea; she'd already known then that May was right, but this was a sobering reality check.

Promptly deciding it would be best to try to keep as low a profile as possible, the tan blonde led her impromptu company away from the main street. Doing so, she was suddenly hit with a new awareness of how decrepit and polluted the city was. "Mantle never really recovered since Atlas was raised to the sky, and it's been struggling more and more since Ironwood's dust embargo. Lately though, things have gotten way worse; the attack on Haven and the extra safety measures are making everyone antsy," she explained. "I wish I could show you a better time and a nicer side of the city, but it's worse than it's ever been."

Winter nodded in understanding. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry," she offered. "I know of the city's plight, and I guarantee the General wouldn't be enforcing such measures if it wasn't absolutely necessary."

Though Robyn understood the necessity of the military being recalled and stationed around the kingdom following the Fall of Beacon, the ever-increasing measures certainly didn't come off as imperative to her. "What's necessary about any of it?"

"Until we apprehend the people responsible for Beacon and Haven, we can't allow unregulated comings and goings. It would be negligent and potentially lethal."

"I hear ya," Robyn said with a sigh. "But meanwhile, the increased measures aren't just making life more and more miserable; it's breeding unrest and attracting Grimm."

"We do what we must," Winter answered, walking by her side. "Atlas is very secure, but we know smugglers still come and go in Mantle, and they bring aboard illegal travelers. Any one of them could be one of the criminals responsible for the academy attacks— we need the increased surveillance to keep an eye out for noncitizen presence." As she explained this, Winter clasped her hands behind her back as she would when she was in uniform; her body language always read as very open and secure, and Robyn had no doubts that she unequivocally believed in the institution she was part of. "The unrest is why Penny's been on patrol duty, and the new surveillance helps her to respond quickly to Grimm attacks," she reminded her. "It's not an ideal situation, but we need to make do, for it is necessary for the moment."

"And the Knights on patrol?"

"They discourage street fights and other petty criminal activity, all of which breeds negative emotion and attracts even more Grimm," the soldier pointed out. "It's better to have them on the ground should something happen while Penny is busy elsewhere."

Robyn didn't much like hearing it, and she was certain that there would be better ways to manage the unrest. This was very much part of her agenda, and she couldn't wait to obtain the legal power to reform this mess. In the meantime however, she was certainly astounded with her present company's unshakable and seemingly blind conviction in Ironwood's measures and the established infrastructures. "You really have complete confidence in what you guys are doing and in the safety your security brings, huh?" Robyn uttered, despondent with her date's steadfast patriotism. "To the point that even though you know there's unrest, even though you know a lot of people hate you guys and your face is on giant screens every few corners… you'd still go around Mantle unarmed."

"Oh, I'm never unarmed," Winter answered impassively.

Maybe she should have expected that. "Really, huh?" Robyn mused, quickly glancing her up and down again, trying in vain to discern a concealed weapon. "I didn't know you could do knives, they're well hidden."

"I don't."

"What, are you a gunslinger?"

"I'm not."

Winter was annoyingly unforthcoming, and Robyn's curious streak nagged. "You know you can't leave it at that, right? If you actually do have a weapon, show me."

Winter didn't even glance her way. "No."

The tall blonde stopped walking, putting her hands on her hips. "Really now? You agreed to be stuck with me for a couple of hours, and you know I'm not gonna stop pestering you about it until you show me, so why make it hard on yourself?"

"I will not be seen pulling a weapon on you," Winter responded categorically. "Certainly not one that draws this much attention."

With that perfectly judicious explanation, Robyn could have left it alone, but did Winter really have to add that second part? How did she expect Robyn to let it go knowing it was something flashy? "Being seen is the problem?" With this, Robyn signalled for the other woman to follow her, leading her reticent companion to a rather dark back-alley before turning to her, arms crossed expectantly.

Winter exhaled shortly, evidently resigned. Blindingly white light flooded the alley as a glyph drew itself behind her. Robyn had heard of what the Schnee lineage was capable of, but she'd never seen it with her own eyes. The phantasmal beast that emerged was frightfully surreal; the Alpha Beowulf was glowing white and quiet as a ghost. Having fought Grimm countless times before, it was a peculiar experience to be faced with one that wasn't immediately threatening. It being semi-transparent and white as snow only added to the surrealism of the encounter. The otherworldly beast had two swords stuck in its neck, which Winter took hold of and withdrew in a swift motion, as if she'd unsheathed her blades from their scabbard.

"Happy?" Winter asked, the two ethereal rapiers in hand.

Finally, Robyn focused her attention on the weapons she'd pestered to see. The same as the monster idly standing behind its master, they were a translucent, glowing white. "And you can actually fight with those," Robyn confirmed in wonder. "They're solid."

"Until I let them disintegrate, they are destroyed in combat, or I run out of aura to spare, yes."

Between its peculiar hereditary quality and the prodigious array of ever-more impressive capacities their glyphs had, the Schnee's semblance had a quasi-legendary reputation. For the same reason, their actual capabilities were nebulous, as rumours had taken a life of their own and it became hard to distinguish fact from fiction. "I heard before that you guys could summon Grimm," Robyn admitted, though she hadn't completely believed it until now. "But what's up with the random swords stuck in it?"

"They aren't random, those were mine," Winter corrected. "Years ago, I used to dual-wield rapiers. As I grew as a fighter and honed my style, I found that they weren't precisely what I needed anymore, so I made their dust-loaded barrels explode for this victory," she explained, motioning to the monster behind her. "Destroyed together with the Grimm, the swords gained immortality along with it."

Did she understand properly? "You can only summon things that have been destroyed? Is that it?"

"Not quite; I can only call upon animate or living creatures, and they must have died by my hand for me to have earned the right to call on them. Had I simply destroyed my obsolete blades, I couldn't have brought them forth," she outlined. "It was after I slayed my first Geist that I realized that there was a little more to my semblance than I had initially understood. A summoned Geist would materialize bearing whatever item it possessed at the time of its demise, blocks of ice, tree trunks, rocks— if Weiss could get it together and master her ability, she could call upon an armoured one. So I planned this: I sacrificed my swords for the sake of this." Winter twirled the swords in her hands. "I prefer my current sabre, but these definitely do in a pinch."

Though she grasped very well what had been explained to her, the unboundedness of this aspect of the Schnee's semblance seemed preposterous. "Anything that dies at your hand?" Robyn repeated, trying to wrap her mind around the idea. "So what if you pick a flower?"

As Winter let go of the sword in her right hand, the weapon fragmented to light residue, quickly dissipating as smoke would. She brought up her free hand and a small glyph appeared in the palm of her hand on which ghostly flowers suddenly flourished. Their soft glow illuminated the two of them with a soft, pure white light, and the way the flowers swayed, almost as if they were breathing, gave the surreal impression of life. It was beautiful.

Behind those spectral flowers, the blue of Winter's eyes appeared to shine an even purer hue as the unearthly light reflected in them. It made her look more impenetrable than her usual stoney mask, and the secrecy it evoked intimated the underlying unholiness of this ability of hers. Before Robyn could think through whether she truly wanted to know, she heard her next question escape her; "...And what if you were to kill someone?"

Winter's open palm turned into a closed fist, crushing the ethereal flowers to fine particles of light resembling glowing ash. She held unfaltering eye contact as the lingering light faded. "...It's not them, not really," she quietly answered. "Just a mindless ghost image with their skills."

A heaviness formed in the pit of Robyn's stomach, watching as the white figure turned and headed to the light of the bustling street. As the Grimm started to follow its master, it evaporated, and so did the remaining sword in the woman's hand. It took a few seconds for Robyn to go after her. The way Winter had answered implied knowledge from experience. This woman had taken lives… and she had seen the dead obey her.

Robyn couldn't imagine facing ghostly, undead warriors, even if they were nothing but a lingering after-image. The possibilities mirrored in this knowledge made her very aware of what monsters Winter and her family could have been, had they been so inclined. The posh and privileged image associated with their name was a very welcome scenario in comparison.

Robyn fell in step with the other woman, shaking off the eeriness of what had just transpired. Walking with her, she openly studied her profile. Winter wasn't disinclined to let her do so enough to comment on it, though she didn't look completely unbothered either. The Schnee's semblance was visually impressive, more so than the vast majority of catalogued semblances, and knowing that it wasn't just flashy tricks, that it held genuine power, was sobering. And... what Robyn had witnessed was nothing but a tiny fraction of Winter's capacities; no wonder she was an elite soldier. And yet, as Robyn contemplated her, nothing in her stature or build suggested how dangerous she was; by no means did Winter look frail, but she certainly didn't have broad shoulders or a wide back. If one thing gave away her muscle mass, it was the size of her thighs, which did more to add to a voluptuous shape than to broadcast her strength. Robyn grabbed a hold of herself before her mind started wandering. "Your semblance is famous, but seeing it in action is an entirely different ball game," she commented. "Thanks for showing me."

"You wanted to see the weapons," Winter dismissed.

Though she might have argued that Winter didn't have to show her, Robyn knew that her threat of pestering her for hours had pretty much removed any other option. "You showed me the flowers, which you didn't have to." A smirk grew on her lips. "Or is that one of your go-to tricks to charm women?"

"You can't be serious," she frowned. "I can't possibly come off as a charmer."

Robyn laughed at the idea — in no world could she imagine such an undemonstrative woman being a flirt. "You don't," she conceded. "But… maybe as a heartbreaker. How many poor souls have you rejected since your academy days?"

The blank expression Winter sported let Robyn guess that she was making an attempt at tallying a previously unheeded count. "I don't know," she eventually admitted.

Somehow, that was no surprise; per May's account, there had been many, and Winter clearly wasn't the sort who'd keep track of such things. "That many, huh?" The blonde mused, reflecting that she might very well still end up being one of those broken hearts.

With a light shrug and a shake of her head, Winter glanced at her again in disconcertement. "I'm neither friendly nor welcoming. I'm positive that I did nothing to instigate their ardors."

Was she really perplexed over this? When the explanation was so obvious? Robyn stared down at her for a second, at her extremely fine features and piercing blue eyes, and couldn't fathom how someone wouldn't be completely smitten. "You're exceptionally beautiful, it's more than enough to explain the heartthrobs. You gotta know that."

The sigh she gave made it apparent that she'd at least suspected it. "Is that really all it takes?"

Robyn gave a shrug. "People are shallow."

At this, Winter stopped walking, eyeing her dejectedly. The accusation remained unsaid, but it still felt like a kick to the stomach.

"...That's not why I've been stubborn about you," Robyn protested swiftly.

"Then, why?" Winter asked. "I was initially quite awful to you, so why else would you so indefatigably chase me?"

"I know you were deliberately abrasive to push me away, I'm not an idiot," Robyn argued. "I've been watching you, you know? From the very first day, I've seen peeks of who you really are; how respectful you are to the people that everyone at those events ignores, how gently you talk to Penny, how caring you are with her— case-in-point, you came down to Mantle today and put yourself in a vulnerable position asking a favor of me for her sake."

This didn't seem to ease her reservations. "You mean to tell me that you've put in such effort solely because I was decent to a few working people?"

"No, how you were to them compared to how you drove off the rich shitbags, it's only what caught my attention; it got me thinking about you. About how you turned your back on the biggest fortune in Remnant in favor of the military, and how you didn't like me because you thought I was just another one of those self-serving assholes. I liked that you didn't like me based on that," she explained, and she could see understanding slowly dawn on the other woman's features. But now that the floodgates had been opened, Robyn couldn't help the outpouring; "You could've been the top dog, royalty, but class privilege bothers you— discrimination bothers you, and maybe that's because of growing up queer in Atlas, I don't know— either way, that's why I put effort into getting to know you," she explained. "And… actually talking to you just made me like you more and more. You're perceptive, quick-witted and surprisingly honest given your position. And you obviously care very much about what's good for everyone. You're a really good person. I think you're fascinating, and I really enjoyed every bit of getting to know you." Robyn gave her a small, genuine smile. "I do like you for you, Schnee. Your beauty is just the cherry on top."

Having not anticipated an observant and genuinely thought-out explanation, Winter was visibly stupefied, perhaps even troubled, and it took a few seconds to find her voice. "…Winter," she mouthed quietly.

Such an unexpected response had Robyn staring back dumbly; a little thrown off.

"You can call me Winter," she reiterated, the tone of her voice more secure this time.

With delighted surprise, Robyn's smile widened from ear to ear. This new concession had Robyn's heart soar; she felt so light that she was almost dizzy, making her very aware again of how deeply she'd come to care.

"...Don't look so pleased, I might regret allowing it," Winter warned before quickly moving onto another topic in an obvious attempt to not linger. "I've meant to ask, are we walking aimlessly or were you leading me somewhere?"

"We're going somewhere; I want to make it worth your while that you chose to spend your day off in Mantle— and I mean beyond the pleasure of my company. We have a couple of blocks to walk." As she said this, one detail she'd previously overlooked now stood out glaringly. "Maybe we should get a cab."

"I'm not above walking."

"Even though you're in heels?"

Winter frowned. "I wouldn't wear them if I couldn't walk in them," she answered, ever-pragmatic. Robyn should have known; Winter did fight in heeled boots after all. "Who would do that?"

"More women than you'd think," Robyn divulged.

"That's absurdly impractical."

"Yeah," the blonde agreed, again feeling that unabating teasing streak surface. "But you know. Some women go to great lengths to look good on a date."

Winter's retort was as prompt as it was categorical; "This is not a date."

Robyn laughed. "Are we sure about that?" Again, she couldn't help taking in her sharp fashion. "You do look really good."

"I always look good," Winter matter-of-factly answered. "Taking care of one's appearance is a matter of self-respect."

"I guess."

"Have you never heard of the maxim 'people will treat you the way you treat yourself'?" The snow-haired woman posed. "Although it's not the only factor, I find that the self-image I project does in fact irrevocably punctuate my interactions. Besides, I'm notorious enough that in or out of uniform, I represent a prestigious institution. I always make a point of being impeccable."

"I see." A lot of the things Winter did, she realized, were exceedingly thought-out, minutiously calculated, and very deliberate; the woman relied very much on implicit cues to manage how other people interacted with her. It was very much in line with how fastidious she was about everything else. "Gotta say I'm a little bummed that it's not especially for me that you're dressed so sharp."

"You made no effort for my sake either."

"Hey, give me a break, I didn't have time to prepare for this," Robyn countered amusedly. "Next time, I'll make sure to wow you."

At this, Winter glanced at her with a side-eye swiping down and up her figure; evidently, her curiosity was piqued, but she stayed silent.

As they stopped at an intersection, waiting for their light to cross, Robyn again came aware of how many eyes were on them. As a new politician, she hadn't yet become accustomed to the ever-present spotlight that running for that seat drew to her, and this was leagues worse. Curious to see how her companion was handling the attention, she glanced at her again only to notice the woman had still been staring at her. Winter had become completely engrossed in studying her features as she would sometimes, and was presently fixated on her lips. Robyn let her be for a spell, keen on seeing how long she'd stare this way. She spoke up only when their light turned green; "You're staring."

Winter tore her gaze away. "I'm sorry," she resumed walking, crossing the street together. "That was rude of me."

"Don't apologize, it doesn't bother me," Robyn answered, pleasantly surprised with such an open acknowledgement. Incapable of resisting pressing her buttons a little, she added; "You've been doing that a lot."

"I have," she confirmed.

Well, that was no fun. Robyn leaned over slightly, trying to get her attention again, avid to get a rise out of her. "If there's something you want, maybe you should go for it," she suggested.

Winter's gaze found hers again, yearning so plain and evident in her eyes that Robyn wondered if she was even trying to hide it. It was so blatantly unconcealed that, for a moment, Robyn was convinced that she would finally give in, say something, do something. Yet Winter didn't, willing herself to look away again.

The blonde hummed. "No? Well. You've got the entire evening to change your mind," she commented. And though she knew that she might be toeing the line, she couldn't help herself; deep down, she hoped that each quip would chip at Winter's capacity for stoicism. How Robyn would have loved to see a crack; "Maybe when night falls and we're alone together?"

Choosing not to acknowledge her ever-bolder provocations, Winter instead changed topics; "Where are you bringing me?"

Was understanding that, semblance or not, Robyn was good at spotting a lie the reason that the ice queen brushed off the flirting instead of disavowing her desires? Or was it simply that Winter didn't like to lie, even if only to playfully shoot her down?

"We're actually there," Robyn answered, pointing to a worn, hand-painted little sign a few doors down. It was a very inconspicuous little shop that might've otherwise looked like a residential property.

"Lady Fortuna's fate readings— discover what your future holds," Winter read aloud. "Sounds like a con artist."

Robyn snorted with amusement. "I can see how, but she's the furthest thing from one, believe me; her semblance allows her to glance at the future," she revealed, drawing the other woman's stupefied gaze. "Of course, there are caveats; it's not all-powerful," Robyn continued, "she can't answer specific questions, 'cause she can only have visions of the future related to memories shared to her— like in a butterfly effect." The expression that took over Winter's features broadcasted clear as day what her thoughts were; Robyn decided to anticipate; "For sure, you can choose what memory you tell her about and try to get a peek at what you want to know, but it's not guaranteed that you'll get what you were looking for," she said. "No one really knows how events of our past reverberate into our future."

"Nonetheless impressive," Winter commented, still trying to assimilate the exponential range of possibilities. "One might share their entire life story and obtain all the answers they're looking for."

The tall blonde shook her head. "With each reading she does for a person, the visions get blurrier until she can't see anything anymore. Plus it's pretty taxing on her. So in the end she can really only do three per person," she explained. "So? Wanna do this?"

Winter appeared to think it through; maybe she was trying to figure out what to ask, maybe she was thinking over what to safely ask without revealing state secrets, maybe she wasn't even sure about wanting to know her future at all. Robyn felt her heart rate start to accelerate as the worry that the woman would get a wrong idea of what Robyn's intent had been with giving her that opportunity. What if Winter decided to believe that this had been a ploy to peer at the future… at Ironwood's plans?

But Winter nodded, her expression clear of any doubts; "There is something I would love reassurance about."

The weight that had suddenly crushed Robyn was at once lifted, and she felt herself smile widely in relief. "Great," she shot, letting herself in.

There was an aroma of myrrh and oud in the small esoteric boutique, and most of the lighting was provided by the warm ambiance of several ornate stained-glass lanterns. The place was overly decorated — up to tapestries on the ceiling — and wasn't well lit, yet it wasn't claustrophobic despite the clutter.

The old woman was nowhere to be seen and Robyn moved towards the back. "Grandma? I brought a visitor."

Her call provoked a stirring in the back room, and after some shuffling sounds, the shop owner emerged from behind very ornate, heavy-looking curtains. "Robyn, welcome," she greeted, waddling to her guests. "What do we have here?" She readjusted her glasses, squinting through them, blinking in astonishment. "The eldest Schnee? Is that right?"

"Yes," Winter answered. "It's a pleasure meeting you."

The tiny geriatric grimaced, scorning the courtesy. She addressed Robyn; "What brings you?"

"Her," the blonde motioned to her impromptu date. "She's spending the day in Mantle with me today."

"Is she now? Well, good; Atlas should remember its roots," Fortuna uttered, glancing Winter up and down. "Especially the highbred ones."

Decades of class divide and its resentment unquestionably permeated Winter's interactions with Mantle citizens, and she had evidently learned not to let herself be bothered, as the old woman's contempt left her unstirred. Robyn, on her part, couldn't help being a little miffed; "Don't be like that, Grandma, she's one of the good ones."

"Is that so?" the fortune-teller questioned idly. She felt the bottom corner of Winter's white blazer between her fingers, as if examining the texture of the fabric of it would help her get a clearer picture of the woman. She then reached up and grabbed her chin in one hand to scrutinize her face. "Hm." The old lady didn't seem completely convinced, but nevertheless gestured to follow her, leading them to a small, two person table at the very back of the room. "Robyn vouches for you, so you get the real deal."

The look Winter gave Robyn was clear as day: the old woman was a con artist too. Robyn shrugged, smiling.

Fortuna sat herself on one side of the table, quickly moving aside the bric-a-brac encumbering it. "Now, I trust Robyn has already explained how this works?"

"Yes," Winter confirmed. "And I'm very thankful for this opportunity."

As these readings could get very personal, Robyn figured she'd anticipate; "Do you need me to step out?"

"That won't be necessary, I doubt any sensitive information would come to light," Winter answered, completely bypassing the aspect of privacy. With this, she approached the table, her hopeful gaze on the tiny old woman. "If I understand correctly, should I retell a memory of my sister and I, you would have a vision of a point in time in the future concerning the two of us, is that correct?"

"Almost certainly," Fortuna answered, gesturing for Winter to take the other end of the table. "Is there something specific you want?"

"No," the white-haired soldier answered. "Anything concerning Weiss will do. I need to know that I'll see her again safe and sound."

The old lady's features brightened a little; she evidently hadn't expected something like this to be one of Winter's priorities. "I can only do three readings per person. You could find out about some of the biggest moments of your life," the fortune-teller warned. "You're sure that's what you want?"

"Absolutely," Winter answered unflinchingly, taking a seat in front of her.

"Very well," she conceded, pouring herself coffee from an old, tarnished dallah. She didn't offer them any. Fortuna took the time to sip her black, luscious drink from her tiny cup before she started. "People like you, who have experience with aura manipulation— trained Huntsmen and Huntresses and such, if they focus, they may catch a glimpse of my vision. So you might want to do that," she explained, to which Winter gave a solemn nod. "Also… the clearer the memory, the better. So, careful not to pick something routine— like helping her with homework or such, your memories are falsified by repetition. They blend together such that any memory you think you have isn't one true memory. So pick something unique." The old lady's grin showcased a golden tooth as she extended her hands in front of her, palms up.

"I understand, I'm ready," Winter announced, resting both hands in the frail, aged ones offered to her.

Looking on, Robyn felt a twinge of envy; she also immediately felt stupid for it. But she did deeply yearn to touch Winter, and the thought of holding her hands this way warmed her entire body. With any other woman she'd romanced, she'd felt comfortable initiating physical contact in light brushes and casual touches, but… with Winter? Between having previously interacted with her solely during formal events; at which Winter had been on duty; and the fact that Winter was such a standoffish and guarded person, it had never felt appropriate to touch her. In over two months of interest, chatting her up and slowly breaking down her barriers, the only physical contact there had ever been was when Robyn had nudged her with her elbow once. Never before had Robyn felt an invisible wall between her and a woman she'd been interested in, and it had reached a point where the thought of holding Winter's hand flushed her body with warmth. She felt like a teenager again. She sat herself on a chair to the side, watching the session unfold.

"Close your eyes. Tell me about your sister," Fortuna instructed.

A pale yellow aura spread from their hands to engulf Winter as she started; "A little over a year after I enrolled, my sister had still been adjusting to her new status as heiress," she narrated. "On one of my rare visits home, she expressed to me the desire to start training and become a huntress. However much I disliked the idea of Weiss putting herself in the line of danger, I understood the call she felt for greater things and I… I knew what kind of pressure I had deferred onto her shoulders when I renounced the family estate," the twinge of sorrow and regret in her voice as she said this made it very apparent that the woman was still tormented by a guilty conscience over this. Winter inhaled a little shakily, and Robyn wondered if she'd ever shared this with anyone before. She cleared the throat, resuming; "I understood her need to break free. So… on that day, I unlocked her aura for her; her semblance — our heritage — manifested right away. Like it had been laying in wait, like she was born ready. Like me."

The glowing yellow of the aura creeped away from Winter's form and instead spread to encompass the old woman. Winter must've felt the shift, as her features set in concentration, evidently attempting to catch an image of the oncoming vision.

The fortune-teller hummed. "White walls, and clean corridors," she said. "You're leading her through a military compound."

The way Winter's features brightened let Robyn guess that she had caught an image of the vision. It was such a rare thing to see her so visibly uplifted, and Robyn thought it was extremely sweet; her heart fluttered.

Fortuna crinkled her brows. "You leave her in a room with a glass overlooking… an old woman in a hospital bed," she recounted, at which Winter abruptly took back her hands, breaking the link. The glow of the aura dissipated and Winter hastily stood, as if putting some distance between them would further ensure the bond was ruptured. There was a shrewd glint in the old lady's eyes as she steadily observed her client. "There was more."

"It's enough," Winter firmly answered. "I'm amply satisfied."

The way she so swiftly put an end to the session made Robyn wonder if, despite Winter's carefulness both with what she sought to find out and the memory she used, they still had been chancing onto something classified.

After having paid, thanked the old woman, and made their exit, Robyn ventured inquiring; "Is everything okay? Is one of your grandmothers sick?"

"No, both are already deceased," Winter dismissed, cementing Robyn's suspicions. Still visibly shaken from the near-slip and in disbelief of the image of her sister she'd caught, Winter took a moment to gather herself and recover. She brushed non-existent dirt from her white blazer and exhaled an uneasy breath, glancing at Robyn again. "Thank you for bringing me here. Seeing Weiss— knowing that she will be back safe and sound means the world to me."

Infinitely glad that this was her takeaway, Robyn smiled. "I figured you'd find it worthwhile. I'm glad."

"Have you gotten three readings already?" Winter inquired in an obvious attempt to draw the attention away from the experience she just had, from how she'd brusquely put an end to the session.

Robyn didn't mind going along with it. "I have one left. I'm saving it," she revealed. "When I decided to run for the council seat, I was tempted to use it to see how it'd pan out, but I figured it wasn't worth it. Polls show I'm leagues ahead of your father, and I already wasted two readings when I was younger... I don't want to waste that one too."

"Wasted?"

"To be fair, I didn't think I was wasting them when I chose to get them," Robyn clarified, "but yeah, in retrospect, they really were wasted. The first one, I got the reading and I didn't know what any of it had to do with the memory I shared or with what I wanted to know. I didn't understand the ramifications and I wasn't able to use the knowledge I gained from the vision to prevent something bad, and I— ...I don't even know if I could've changed anything even if I had understood what I could do. I don't know if the fate she shows us is unavoidable," she vaguely explained, not very keen on going into further detail. It was a tragic story to recount, and she didn't feel that now was the time for it. "Anyways— the other, I was actually really stupid about," Robyn continued, steering her date's focus onwards. "I tried —don't judge— to get Grandma to tell me about my one true love."

This clearly caught Winter's attention, as she was suddenly very attentive. "And you say it was wasted?" She questioned again. "How do you know?"

"See, I chose a memory with this girl I had a huge crush on at the time," Robyn started, rolling her eyes at her younger self's inanity. "I really thought we were meant to be, and I figured: since I had such strong romantic feelings for her, if anything could get me a vision of my one true love it'd be someone who evoked these feelings, right?" To this, Winter gave a conceding sort of shrug, and Robyn leaned in slightly. "And whaddya know, I got a vision of her walking down the aisle."

"You've never married," Winter noted, cueing Robyn again on the fact that she'd looked into her.

"I never married," she confirmed.

"And how do you know that this still won't come to pass? You might still marry her."

"The vision happened already," Robyn revealed. "I did see her walk up the aisle. I was invited to her wedding and was sitting pretty near the front," she laughed. "Because of the memory I chose, I got a vision about her, not about my one true love."

For a short moment, Winter's expression was blank, and then her perfectly white teeth flashed for a second as her lips drew into an amused smile; Robyn faltered completely. She had gotten so used to how ever-serious the woman was that she'd forgotten she'd never seen her smile —not in pictures; nor watching from afar as Winter interacted with Penny; nor after hours and hours, evening on evening chatting her up, slowly managing to peel back defensive layer after defensive layer— Robyn had never seen even the slightest upturn at the corner of her lips until now. Such an unfettered smile left her completely awestruck. "You have a gorgeous smile," Robyn heard herself say, and it disappeared.

Winter's skin had taken on a self-conscious red tint and, in what looked like a nervous gesture, she finger-combed her white hair behind her left ear. "Thank you."

"I thought you'd said that 'smiling isn't part of your repertoire of facial expressions'," she quoted playfully.

"Clearly, that was in jest," Winter answered.

"Well, I was starting to believe it!"

"I'm human, Miss Hill."

This jarred her; after having received the green light to switch to a first-name basis, Robyn had imagined it would go both ways. "Call me Robyn."

Winter cleared her throat, her cheeks still pinkish. "I'd rather not."

"It's only fair that you do," she shot. "You don't have to do it in front of other people."

"We're always in front of other people," Winter said, vaguely gesturing to the bustling crowd around them.

"We don't have to be," Robyn said without skipping a beat, that nagging grin again gracing her lips. "How do you feel about being alone, just you and me? Maybe it's time we go somewhere quieter."

After having made many provocative innuendos throughout the day, it was no surprise how conflicted Winter looked about being alone together. Before Robyn could offer any assuaging words, the woman nodded. "What do you have in mind?"

Robyn promptly flagged down a passing cab. "My place?" she suggested before opening the door for her.

Standing still for a moment, Winter considered the invitation in silence. Whatever was going through her head seemed to make her a little fretful, but she quickly steeled herself and wordlessly ducked into the car. The driver gave the pair a bewildered look through the rear view mirror when Robyn followed her. As Robyn gave directions —a commercial office building down the street from her flat, for good measure— she slipped in a word soliciting the man's discretion. The ride went by in silence, in the implicit understanding that, with the driver listening, it was best that they kept conversation at a minimum. Aside from saying anything damning, how familiar they'd gotten with each other was best kept under wraps.

Reaching their destination, they let the cab disappear around the corner before Robyn led her companion down the street and up the stairs to her flat. "Home sweet home," Robyn said, unlocking the door and kicking her boots off.

Winter followed her in, removing her shoes and placing them neatly by the door. She had all at once lost about three inches of height, and as she passed by Robyn, the top of her head barely reached her shoulder level. Winter was Fiona's height, and Robyn needed every ounce of her self-restraint in repressing the urge to pass a comment on her stature. "I live alone; no one will walk in on us," she said instead, and what this could insinuate hit her only after she'd spoken. Winter consequently gave her an uncertain look. Robyn cleared her throat. "I'm just saying, you can let your guard down," she clarified, sitting on a sofa arm as her guest walked through the living room, observing the memorabilia displayed. Robyn, on her part, watched the woman in wonder. Though she had blindly decided to try her luck, she had always known that her chances had been pretty slim that Winter would reciprocate her interest, and even slimmer that she'd give into it. Seeing her in the middle of her living room was almost surreal. "What do you think?"

Winter stopped in front of a large shelf library full of books, framed pictures, ornamental keepsakes and mementos. "It's less minimalist than I would've anticipated," she observed, tilting her head to read some book titles.

"Oh yeah?"

"You come off as someone who wouldn't value material objects much," she explained, scrutinizing a displayed group picture.

"I can see that," Robyn granted. "And I guess it's true for luxury items and all; I couldn't care less about that. But I'm a sucker when it comes to trinkets with sentimental value or anything that reminds me of the people I love."

Winter turned to glance at her. "You're sensitive," she noted, resuming her examination of the room. "That's not unexpected."

"It's not?" Robyn was genuinely surprised; sensitive wasn't a descriptive that she felt her image projected in any way.

"It takes someone especially sensitive to others' pain to go the lengths you are with this political campaign," the white-haired soldier pointed out as she swiped dust off a wooden console with one finger, leaving the politician wishing she could blame the accumulation on her busy schedule, but she'd always had a tendency towards untidiness. It was in fact quite a feat that there wasn't any dirty clothing or used dishes lying around.

"Maybe I'm just angry with the system," Robyn suggested.

Winter looked her way again. "Yours isn't anger born out of envy or resentment; it's not spiteful anger. It's anger born out of compassion, out of the pain you feel seeing others suffer," she remarked, hitting a bullseye. "You are sensitive."

The blonde blinked rapidly in bafflement. Between this and her earlier bit at the café, Robyn couldn't help wondering how far had Winter analyzed her personality. And all this made her realize…"You've thought about me a lot, huh?"

"Much more than I should," the ice queen conceded ruefully.

The delight sparked by this response was dampened by how grievously conflicted Winter clearly felt about it. Robyn yearned to assuage that pain. "...I think of you a lot too," she offered, hoping it'd ease the other woman's bad conscience. She hoped that maybe, just maybe, she might draw another smile from her; "I'm happy that you're here with me. I've wanted to be alone with you for a while."

At this, Winter came to a halt. Tension started to visibly stiffen her posture, making it look like she might be gathering her courage. "Let's cut to the chase," she said, turning to her fully. "I can't give you what you want."

Interesting. Robyn crossed her arms. "What do I want?"

Winter was stumped; she unsurely stared back at her.

"You finally want to talk about it, let's talk," Robyn said. "Tell me what exactly we're talking about here, what do you think I want?"

"I'm not certain," Winter admitted. "You've claimed wanting to befriend me, but mere friendship clearly isn't what you're looking for."

"That's true," Robyn acknowledged, waiting for her to continue. "So what do you think is happening here?"

"You're expecting… sex?"

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Wow, okay, that's… several steps ahead," she mouthed to herself, instantly realizing she'd gone overboard with the innuendos and suggestive comments she'd dropped. Their profusion had stacked up enough for Winter to have mistaken her playfulness for pushiness. Sure, it was something Robyn ultimately did want, and she was certain that Winter reciprocated, but Robyn's intent with those quips had first and foremost been nothing more than an attempt at getting a rise out of her. She hated that Winter had come to think she expected sex, and this misunderstanding was absolutely her own fault. "Winter, I'm sorry if it came across that anything like that was expected out of you," she started, "and though I can't say I wouldn't like that… that's not why I wanted to spend this time alone with you," Robyn asserted. "I wanted you to have a chance to relax and be yourself, you were obviously not going to do that out there— not with so many eyes on us," she explained. "I wanted to give us a chance to interact freely, without worrying about keeping a distance or not looking too friendly. And then maybe… see where that leads. See if maybe we could eventually become something."

"...Then I'll tell you right then and there; there's no chance of that," Winter affirmed.

Robyn's brow twitched. "Why not? Are you gonna try telling me that you don't like me like that? 'Cause that'd be a fat lie."

"No, I… I admit that I'm..." she exhaled nervously. "I'm… quite infatuated, if I'm to be honest," she said, her gorgeous blue eyes searching Robyn's. Winter quickly took a hold of herself. "But that's inconsequential; I'm in no position to foster any sort of relationship."

"I'm not asking for commitment, we don't know each other nearly well enough for that," Robyn pointed out. "Just spending some time together, see where it goes."

"You're not understanding me," Winter said. "I can't see where it goes. I can't even risk developing feelings for anyone, not with the responsibilities that rest on my shoulders."

Robyn's frown deepened; what an odd claim. "Your responsibilities won't allow you to have feelings for someone?"

"Exactly."

"And those responsibilities are classified."

"Yes."

She felt her features set into discontentment. "So… you won't tell me why, but even though you straight up admit you're into me, you won't give this a try," Robyn clarified.

"...Yes." This one wasn't as firm.

Staring at Winter in silence, Robyn contemplated the day they had spent together and how the other woman's behavior was so contradictory to what she claimed. The longer she stayed silent, the more uncomfortable Winter appeared. Robyn eventually gave a discouraged sigh. "So... why did you come all the way down to Mantle to see me?"

"Penny—"

"Bullshit," she cut in. That might have been the excuse Winter had given herself but they both knew it wasn't the real reason she was there. "You said it yourself; I'd have put a stop to it whether or not you asked me. All you needed to do was make sure I learned of it one way or another," Robyn outlined annoyedly; why was Winter trying to put up any sort of pretense now? "But you came to see me in person, on your day off, free to stay and ready to, knowing I would keep you."

Winter couldn't answer this. Already, she'd appeared fretful as she followed Robyn home, and clearly stressed broaching this conversation. As said conversation progressed, her typical countenance was more shaken than the tall blonde had ever seen before.

This didn't discourage Robyn from pressing ahead. "So? Why did you decide to spend so much time with me today? When you knew you didn't have to do so for me to help? When this was always gonna be your answer?" As Robyn progressed in her line of questioning, she realized she was incrementally pumping herself up despite her best wishes. She couldn't help being agitated; Winter's actions were diametrically opposite to her claims, which meant she was either oblivious, lying, or that Robyn was missing something. She stood, taking a few steps towards her, feeling an urge to move, to narrow in on the other woman. "Why did you decide to allow moving to first name basis?"

Winter parted her lips but made no sound. At this point, any traces of her customary cool-headedness were long out the window; she looked uncharacteristically overwrought. The shallow breaths she took and the way the skin of her face and chest had started to flush made it impossibly clear what duress she was under. Her cool blue eyes held a jittery uneasiness.

Had she been more composed, Robyn might have been halted by noticing how much pressure she was putting on her guest, but she was on too much of a roll to stop herself. "Why did you accept being alone with me? Coming into my home? Does any of that make sense to you?" She flat out questioned. "What are you even doing? Why are you here?"

Struggling, but nevertheless managing to maintain eye contact, Winter didn't seem to know whether or not this barrage of questions had been rhetorical, so Robyn waited expectantly with a pointed stare, making it clear they were not.

Winter exhaled shakily, attempting to recover some of her composure. "...I'm here because…" Her voice died in her throat. She swallowed nervously, evidently doing everything she could to get a hold of herself. "Because..." she trailed off again. In the moment of silence, time seemed suspended for a breath, and something finally seemed to give in her expression. Like shattered glass, Winter's features contorted in pain. "…Because you make me so weak," she rasped, her voice cracking. "I've always abstained from indulging any— any attraction that I— But then you come along, and you're just so… bold, and implacable, and frustratingly charming, and you're always at the back of my mind, and I needed to see you— I can't stop myself," she ranted, seemingly all in one breath; it looked like she might start to hyperventilate.

Seeing her pain, Robyn's heart broke instantly. "Hey, hey," she closed the distance between them, "it's okay, I didn't mean to push you like that." Approaching her, she had meant to comfortingly grab her shoulder or touch her arm, but found herself faltering. With any other woman, Robyn wouldn't have hesitated, but in that moment, she realized just how much this ever-present distance had permeated what bond they'd established. At this point, it almost felt forbidden to touch her.

"I shouldn't be here," Winter continued to vent, her eyes welling up. "I'm sorry I gave you hope, I can't— a-and yet, I just… I-I-I don't know what I'm doing anymore, I can't reason with myself…!"

"Winter, hey," Robyn soothed, willing herself to break past the perceived boundary and bringing her hands to her shoulders. "It's fine," she reassured. "Sorry, I backed you into a corner."

As Winter gazed up at her, she looked so pitiful that Robyn felt a painful squeeze constrict her heart. Multiple times that day had the other woman caused strong visceral emotions to grip her so ferociously. Robyn was no stranger to what this meant, and she was left to wonder when exactly it was that she'd taken the fall. At what point had she gone from being curious and amused by that statue of a woman to being so irrecoverably taken with her?

The worst of it was that Robyn had seen it coming: Very early as she'd started investing herself in this heedless venture, as she'd gotten a good grasp of who Winter was, Robyn had realized how demeasurely she cared whether or not the woman liked her. From that moment on, she'd known she was coursing full speed ahead towards a precipice, and instead of wising up, hitting the brakes, and abandoning her pursuit, she'd closed her eyes, slammed the accelerator and allowed herself to go off the deep end.

Very gently, Robyn let her hands slide from Winter's shoulders to her back, around her, as she moved closer. Winter gave no sign of resisting being hugged so Robyn closed the distance completely, holding her securely against herself. Winter let her do so, but she was completely rigid and the tempestuous thumping of her heart reverberated so hard that the tall blonde could feel it against her own ribcage.

"I won't try anything, it's just a hug," Robyn reassured.

After another moment of stillness, of seeing that nothing more was happening, Winter exhaled the breath she'd been holding, the stiffness in her body gradually easing up. Robyn felt fingers awkwardly touch her waist, like the woman didn't know where to put her hands, or maybe like she wasn't sure if she was allowed to touch her back. Without moving, Robyn waited to feel her palms fully settle, for her to decide what she was comfortable with. As Winter seemed to acclimate to the closeness, she leaned in very slightly. She let her head rest against Robyn's shoulder, almost in the crook of her neck, and her hands circled around Robyn's body to rest on the small of her back; how much that felt like a caress gave her goosebumps. The silky white hair smelled of a clean and crisp perfume; Robyn resisted the urge to bury her nose in it, opting instead to lean her cheek against the top of her head. Winter felt warm and relaxed against her, her breathing slowing. It felt incredible to hold her. "Feeling better?" Robyn ventured softly.

There was an almost imperceptible nod. "Yes," Winter admitted very quietly. "I… didn't know I needed this, thank you."

"Anytime," Robyn murmured, unable to rein in the impulse to pull her a little closer, unable to prevent herself from noticing details of the other woman's body against herself. Both Winter's uniform and fashion style subdued her assets, and her chest pressed against Robyn's body felt a little larger than Robyn would have estimated. Moreover, Winter didn't appear to have much bulk in her upper body, but as Robyn comfortingly stroked her back, it definitely felt very solid, all lean muscle. Or maybe not all, as some of its solidity was undeniably accumulated tension. Robyn slowly moved her hand to the base of her neck, under the white hair to gently rub her neck. With a quiet hum, Winter allowed her head to lean a little heavier on Robyn's upper chest, relaxing into her and nuzzling her nose lightly into her sweater. This level of tenderness had Robyn melting. It almost surprised her to hear Winter speak up again.

"...So... you really didn't bring me here for sex?"

"I really didn't," Robyn confirmed, continuing to knead her neck and back. "Is that really what you thought when I invited you to my place?" she mused, as something else dawned on her; "...And you still came with me?"

Silence. Robyn felt the hands on her lower back slowly curl into fists as the wool of her sweater gathered in Winter's fingers.

Robyn became completely motionless, to the point of even holding her breath. As the understanding that Winter had made up her mind about going through with it as she accepted to be alone together washed over her, she was impossibly aware of what was within her reach should she decide to take it.

Slowly, Robyn brought a hand to the back of the other woman's head, gently combing the white hair with her fingers. No matter how tempted she was, Robyn also knew that jumping on the opportunity now, when Winter seemed so conflicted and vulnerable, was an awful idea. Sure, Winter had let herself be led up to this point expecting it would happen, but it seemed to Robyn like she had done so with rueful guilt, and Robyn had the unshakable certainty that after the deed was done, Winter would resent it happening and berate herself. And this wasn't how Robyn wanted Winter to feel about being intimate with her.

It would destroy the fragile bond they had, and along with it any chances Robyn felt she had to win the other woman's heart.

"Would you be disappointed if I thought that we needed more time before something like that happened…?" The blonde eventually asked.

"... I'm relieved," Winter answered. "However much I know that I shouldn't be here and I shouldn't indulge any of this, I…" she swallowed nervously, and, as if her body needed to speak its truth, her embrace tightened. "I don't know how I would have resisted had it been something you wanted," she confided.

How the other woman pressed herself closer gave Robyn a full-body shiver. "Oh, I want it, don't get me wrong," she breathed, feeling Winter's heart rate jump again against her chest. Robyn's hand tangled in the white hair instead found its way around her shoulders to return the tight embrace. "But I really like you, and I don't want to fuck it up— I really don't think it's a good idea to rush it," she explained. "We can take our time, we'll get there eventually; there's no reason to jump ahead."

Winter sighed lightly and separated just enough to look up at her, eyeing her dejectedly. "There can't be any 'ahead'. I shouldn't have come here today, and I can't allow myself to do so again."

For a moment, Robyn wondered if this was a subtle way to plead with her to take the shot while she had the opportunity, or if the warning she gave was nothing more than exactly that. Either way, Robyn didn't want to accept that they'd reached a dead end; she didn't want to accept that she was meant to simply give up when they were both so strongly drawn to the other. But she also felt that pushing now, arguing to make a case for them, wasn't the best use of the time they had together. Robyn figured that if Winter couldn't help herself today and had given into her desire to spend time with her, chances were she would lack resolve the same way in the future, and this wasn't truly final. Robyn decided to turn her attention to making the best of this evening.

"Alright. So you won't come back," she said. "But since you're here now… stay a bit longer? I'll make you dinner."

Clearly conflicted, Winter nevertheless gave a slow nod. Again, her gaze dropped to Robyn's lips, and it made Robyn incredibly aware of how close they were. Kissing her would be a matter of leaning in no more than a few inches, and oh how tempted she was to actually do it. Warmth spread through her body and Robyn realized her heartbeat had accelerated; it felt like it would be right to kiss her, though she knew very well now wasn't the time for that, not with what Winter had just said. Summoning all her willpower, Robyn let go before she did something stupid.

Winter lingered a few extra seconds, her arms around her and eyes on her lips, incidentally substantiating what she'd expressed about finding her irresistible. Slowly, her hands on Robyn's lower back circled to her hips, and Winter took a deep breath, as if bracing herself before letting go. How she joined her hands together as she stepped back, her gaze downcast demurely, only made Robyn want to hug her again; she wouldn't have minded spending the entire evening holding her.

Forcing herself to move on, Robyn motioned for the other woman to follow her to the kitchen as she made a mental inventory of her pantry, calculating what her options were. "How does pasta sound?"

"Good. I'm not difficult."

"Yeah? Pasta's a pretty safe bet, but either way I wouldn't have thought you a picky eater," Robyn remarked, collecting what she needed from the cupboards, "you're too pragmatic for that."

Winter gave a conceding sort of nod. "I have to say, military rations will give you an appreciation for any fresh food."

Robyn rolled up her sleeves and washed her hands. "You get those? Even though you're a high ranking official?"

"I wasn't always," Winter pointed out. "Besides, high-ranking or not, it makes no difference when journeying through Solitas's frozen tundra; rations are the only option."

"Oh, yeah," she measured out the flour and made a little nest for the eggs, oil and salt. "I don't know, but it's hard imagining you as a private; feels like you've always been at the top."

This comment went over Winter's head; she was completely engrossed with what Robyn was doing. "You're making the pasta from scratch?"

Both hands in what was starting to become dough, the blonde shrugged. "Yeah?"

She looked baffled. "Do you cook often?"

"Used to be most days," Robyn answered. "I'm getting busier and busier with the upcoming election though, so it's been takeout more often than not these days."

Her guest was visibly impressed. "I wouldn't have imagined you to be so… domestic."

Robyn laughed. "I don't know if I should be offended by that," she shot back playfully, and Winter looked self-conscious with her assumption. Robyn offered her a more genuine smile. "I'm gonna be honest though; domestic probably isn't right anyways, since I've never been great at being neat and orderly. It's just cooking that I do," she revealed. And certainly, that was consistent with her primary love language; being of service, dotting over the people she loved had always been her way of showing she cared. "It's something to share, you know? Makes me happy to do something for friends, family, girlfriends; taking care of people is something I like doing."

Winter hummed in understanding. "Does this mean that you typically cook for your dates?"

Hearing this question, Robyn felt her lips stretch into a grin; she was happier than she had imagined this would make her. "...So this is a date, huh?"

Winter's eyes widened; "It's—..." But she evidently gave up on whatever denial was about to pour out; what had been implied by her query couldn't have been clearer, and she was looking more embarrassed by the second.

"Don't get too flustered," Robyn laughed. "I hoped you thought of this as a date."

Disapproval was written all over her face; "I really shouldn't be."

That again. "Can you stop worrying about what you should or shouldn't be doing?" The blonde requested. "You're here now, and you said it'll be just the one time and it's over. So enjoy it, yeah? Even if it's just this once."

Winter's thought process as she internally bargained with herself deconstructed itself on her features and eventually, she yielded; "Fine," she sighed, taking a seat on one of the bar stools at the kitchen counter.

Invigorated by a thrilled high, Robyn expended that energy in her kneading.

"What will you tell your people?"

Focused on her hands, the blonde didn't glance up. "What about?"

"No matter the precautions you took with the driver, some of your informants will have seen me come in here with you," Winter established. "It's easy to dismiss being seen with me if all we're doing is walking outside. But bringing me here? I can't imagine it won't raise questions."

That was true. Walking around the city could easily be explained away as being an attempt to show the General's right-hand woman what his measures were doing to an already suffering populace. Inviting Winter to her home, though…? "I haven't thought about it yet," Robyn admitted.

"Aren't you worried that your support would dwindle if your intentions towards me were to come to the public's attention?"

"They'd see me trying to align myself with two of my political adversaries, huh? Jacques Schnee's firstborn and Ironwood's dutiful second-in-command."

"That doesn't worry you?"

Robyn shrugged sheepishly. "Obviously not enough to keep away," she answered, and Winter gave her a bit of a scolding look. How the blue of her eyes pierced through her gave Robyn shivers, and she did her best to shake it off. "Listen… I know it's not great, but I… really think you're worth what backlash I could ge—"

"Would get," Winter interjected. "Definitely would, without a doubt."

"Right," Robyn conceded. "But… I'm sure that once the initial shock passed, things would be fine. For one, you did a good job of separating yourself from your family's estate; when your name comes up, people think of the Atlas military, not the SDC," she explained. "As for the rest... the General isn't entirely disliked down here," Robyn admitted. "He's done a lot of good in the past, and since the Fall of Beacon, with how much fear there's been, he's made a lot of people feel safer. And though a good chunk of us think that his ever-increasing measures are starting to be excessive, a decent portion of Mantle citizens still believe in him."

Winter looked relieved to learn that. "He's doing his best," she acknowledged quietly. "These are uncertain times, and we need to be ready."

"Ready for what?"

Her features had settled into an even, thoughtful mask. "That's the question," she said, almost more to herself.

As they both reflected on what had been said, about the uncertainty lurking the future, the silence that fell was unexpectedly comfortable. The dough under Robyn's hands was nearly ready and she glanced up at her guest again to notice that somewhere along the line, Winter had become overly engrossed with watching the kneading. The glow in her eyes undoubtedly wasn't about the food or its making process.

Robyn didn't hate seeing it. "You hungry?" she shot, drawing Winter's attention back up to her amused smirk. "What were you thinking about, watching my hands so intently?"

Her guest laced her fingers in her lap. "Nothing important."

"Humour me."

Winter cleared her throat, letting a nonchalant gaze wander to the ingredients on the counter. "I hadn't realized how much tension I held in my body until you were massaging my back."

"So you were thinking of my hands on you?"

Her eyes snapped to the purple ones. Again, Winter remained silent in the face of her provocations.

And still, Robyn couldn't help nudging a little more. "A girl's got needs, huh?" she mused, setting the dough aside. "I could rub your back a bit more after we eat."

Winter leaned back in her seat, as if she needed to put more distance between them, even if only a few inches. "That's an awful idea."

With a brow arched, the blonde stopped in the middle of gathering what she needed to make the sauce. "What? Don't tell me you wouldn't like it."

"I'd like it too much."

Robyn felt herself grow hotter. After having avoided engaging the entire day and having skirted the topic for over two months, it was completely destabilizing for Winter to so openly own up to her desires. Trying her hardest not to let her mind wander, Robyn instead moved her attention to chopping the onion and garlic.

"What's the matter?" Winter probed. "I thought you'd get a kick out of my acknowledging this."

The blonde glanced up, surprised that the ice queen was pursuing this line of conversation. "I'm trying to digest that you actually said that," Robyn admitted. "You've been so hellbent on dodging every pass I made."

"With what happened earlier, you know what effect you have on me; why pretend otherwise now?"

Robyn raised her eyebrows a little higher. "Make sense," she conceded, her impish grin returning. "So no massage huh?"

"No."

"What about another hug?"

Winter looked hesitant. "...Now?"

"Well, no," Robyn wiped an onion-vapor induced tear with her forearm, dropping everything in an oiled skillet for a satisfying sizzle. "But I don't know, if you need it again, or when you leave?"

"...Sure," she replied in her best detached voice.

It might have been that very attempt at indifference that nudged Robyn to dare; "What about a kiss?"

Gobsmacked, it took Winter a second to answer. "I'll never get used to your impudence," she uttered stiffly.

Robyn grabbed a bottle from the cupboard. "That's not a no," she noted.

The snow-haired woman crossed her arms.

"That's not a no," she repeated, smiling wider as she uncorked the wine. Only as she did so did Robyn notice the woman's gaze on the bottle she had opened and at once remembered Winter's aversion to alcohol. "I wasn't gonna drink, it's for the sauce," Robyn explained, "but, uh, you're fine if I use some in the sauce, right?"

"It's no issue," she confirmed. "And it wouldn't be an issue either if you wanted to have a glass; this is your home, you can drink if you're so inclined."

"I'm inclined for you to be comfortable," Robyn answered.

"I am comfortable with moderate consumption."

"Yeah?"

"I appreciate your thoughtfulness, but I don't need to be coddled. I'm not so fragile that something so mundane as a glass of wine would upset me," she said. "I may not partake, but I have no issue with others responsibly doing so."

Robyn nevertheless decided against it, re-corking the bottle as soon as she'd splashed some into the skillet to deglaze the browned onions. "You kinda got upset about it last time we broached the topic though."

Winter watched her chop tomatoes. "What riled me up was your insistence to pry into a sensitive topic, not the simple idea of alcohol."

"Right," Robyn yielded, dropping the tomatoes in the skillet. "Sorry again about that."

"It's fine."

Stirring the already fragrant mixture, she found herself reflecting on what had happened that day. Though Winter was extremely good at maintaining that cool, professional mask, Robyn was even better at picking up on however small changes in expression. Learning to read those accurately had been a natural consequence of her semblance; it had been easy to become proficient at deciphering what those twitches in facial expressions meant when she could test for the absolute truth. And it had been easy for Robyn to see that the woman had been on a downward spiral, no matter how impassive she might've seemed to onlookers. "Sorry about… the family situation too," she offered, adding the dried herbs and spices to the skillet.

Winter exhaled softly. "It's... fine," she said again. "I certainly wasn't there for the worst of it; though I could have commuted from home, I chose to reside in the Atlas Academy dorms to be away from…" she trailed off for a second during which it looked to Robyn like she was debating whether she wanted to delve into this or not. Winter shuffled uncomfortably in her seat, giving the impression that, had she been standing, she would have started pacing. "It might not come as a surprise given his manipulative ways, but my father is emotionally abusive; it's one of the main reasons for my mother turning to the bottle. As the years went by, my parents' marriage was degrading rapidly, and… well, ever since I can remember, my mother has had a proclivity for it, but it was only after I left for Atlas Academy that her addiction rendered her completely dysfunctional," Winter explained, watching Robyn put a pot of salted water on the stove. "I wasn't the one who suffered the most from my parent's demons. I... abandoned my siblings; they had to live through the worst of it."

Hearing her speak with such remorse, the blonde felt a twinge of pain pull at her heart. "You couldn't have known how bad it'd get," she disputed.

Though Winter's features remained mostly even, the uncharacteristic slump in her shoulders betrayed her despondency. "Oh, I could see it coming," she grievously refuted. "And I saw it degrade every time I visited, which wasn't as often as I should have for my siblings' wellbeing."

Between what May had retold and what Winter had vaguely corroborated when chatting of what money could or couldn't buy, Robyn couldn't comprehend how hard the woman was on herself. How could Winter have been expected to step in when she was barely a teen, struggling with her own mental health and trying to keep up with Huntsman Academy training? Not to mention… Although Winter had brought up her father's manipulative and abusive tendencies to explain her mother's situation, Robyn was certain that her mother hadn't been the sole victim. Which meant Winter's own need to heal could be heaped onto the pile of other things she had to deal with. "You can't fault yourself for that," Robyn said.

"Yet, I am," she drily rejoined, almost immediately catching herself; she shook her head, as if to shake off the cynicism. "I guess… I wish I had been stronger. Strong enough to be more present. Or… I wish that I had been able to shelter them in some way, or that I had been able to do something to spare them the hardships."

A frown took over as she cleaned the countertop of refuse. "I don't see what you could've done, honestly."

Winter leaned back in her chair. "I had the recurring desire to take custody," she confided. "But I had to give up on that idea— it was incredibly unrealistic. When I turned eighteen and could have fought for custody was when I renounced the SDC estate and was cut off financially. Between finding the money to fight my father's lawyers and attempting to prove that the home environment was a toxic one —my father was doing everything he could to maintain an impeccable public image after all— the battle was already lost. Moreover, how would I have provided for them, made a home for them while still living in the academy dorms?" Winter outlined, flicking a stray tomato stem into Robyn's reach as she finished cleaning up. "It's been of some consolation to see Weiss being so resilient and determined to make her own path."

"You must've been elated when she decided to become a Huntress," Robyn plopped the pasta dough back on the counter.

"I had mixed feelings," Winter admitted. "Needless to say, I didn't like the idea of her facing danger, but… yes. I was extremely glad that she would be free of that environment."

The process of rolling out the tiny pasta bites was essentially a mindless one, and the soldier had Robyn's undivided attention. "What about your brother?"

Winter watched the repetitive motion of shaping the dough. "After graduating, when I started earning a steady income and was able to get my own appartements, I have looked into taking him, but… between the legal enterprise that it would have proven to be, how busy and absent my work kept me, and… how I never had a good relationship with him, this idea remained just that, an idea," she confided.

Without understanding why, Robyn found herself unsurprised to learn that Winter's relationship with her younger brother was strained. The boy really came off as a tiny version of his father. "Is it because he reminds you of your dad?"

Winter looked perplexed. "Oh, I have no ill feelings towards Whitley, I wouldn't have considered being his guardian if I did. No, he despises me," she corrected. "Maybe it's only natural for a boy to look up to his father, and Father was naturally more inclined to favor his one child who adulated him, but Whitley has always seeked approval from Father. And I… was the child who turned her back on Father. The one who had Father incensed when she renounced the estate," Winter explained. "Whitley had to witness the storm, and I can't imagine what Father might have said about me, but our relationship was sealed with this."

"It's a shame," Robyn commented. "He doesn't know what he's missing."

This elicited a small smile from Winter, and the way she gazed back at Robyn was… warm. It was dazzling. "You're kind," Winter softly said.

The blonde remembered to breathe. "I'm not trying to be nice, it's what I really think," she offered. "And I mean, I'm sure I'm not the only one who thinks so— your sister might've told him something along those lines too. Aren't you like, her hero?"

"Hm." Winter shrugged lightly, the expression that she sported was subdued but undeniably affectionate. "I don't know what I did to deserve how enormously Weiss loves me, but I'm certainly glad that she does."

"You think she wanted to become a Huntress to be like you?"

"No, I believe it's the other way around," Winter said. "It's because she has always had it in her to be a warrior that she looked up to me. Given our hereditary semblance, looking at me, she had a clear image of what she too may be able to do someday," she speculated. "I wasn't her inspiration, I was simply embodying her vision of the future."

That was quite the interesting take. "So you'd guess she'd have become a Huntress no matter what?"

"Absolutely. And I'm also certain that she would have followed that path with or without my blessings, which is why I opted to give her the best chances I could and helped her train the best I knew how," Winter said. "I was very hard on her, but… given what she has had to face, I'm glad that I was."

Though Robyn had unquestionably already grasped that her sister was very important to Winter, all that had come to light made it fabulously self-evident why Winter would have wanted to find out about Weiss's wellbeing from the fortune-teller. Robyn found herself hoping they could be reunited soon. "In the vision you had, did it look like you'd be seeing her sometime soon? Or was it far off in the future?"

"It wasn't too far into the future, Weiss didn't look that much older than the last time I saw her."

"Oh? She looked older though?"

The snow-haired woman still absentmindedly watched Robyn's hands as she rolled out the pasta. "It has already been well over a year since I last saw her— since before the Fall of Beacon. She turned twenty during that time, she's not a teen anymore."

Her saying this made it click what Winter had meant by 'given what she had to face'; Robyn had known this too, how could she have forgotten? "She was at Beacon— she was there when it happened."

"She was," Winter confirmed. "She was thankfully unschathed."

The blonde nodded, gathering the pasta to drop it into the boiling water. "She fought?"

"Yes, along with her team. I'm proud of her— of them for doing so."

Knowing the age difference between the Schnee sisters, Robyn quickly calculated how far along in her training Weiss had been. She and her team had less than two years of training under their belt, they probably hadn't even done unaccompanied missions yet… and still, they had chosen to fight in an attempt to contain the worst catastrophe that Remnant had seen since the Great War. There inarguably was something to be proud of. "I'm glad they were fine."

"I said that Weiss was fine," Winter corrected, drawing Robyn's gaze away from her cooking. The woman's expression was a little grim. "Two of her teammates weren't so lucky; one is missing in action and one was dismembered," she related, making it sink in how dangerous it had been and how lucky Weiss had been unharmed.

Robyn felt a heaviness in her stomach. Having gone through Huntsman Academic training, she couldn't envision facing this sort of horror with the level of skill she had back then, and she couldn't imagine what it would have felt like to see her teammates suffer this way.

Winter decided to fill the silence. "I was in Vale just twenty-four hours before Beacon fell," she confided. "I wish that, somehow, I had stayed— that I had been there. I don't imagine that things would have gone down much differently had I been present, but… of the thousands of lives lost, I might have saved a handful," she reflected out loud. With this, she gave a slight shake of her head. "After witnessing the horror and the valiant efforts of Beacon's students, the General attempted to track down every one of them who chose to fight. He invited them to finish their training at Atlas Academy with full scholarship," she said. Robyn had almost forgotten that the General had been at Ground Zero, and this bit clarified how Winter had learned of the fate of Weiss's team. "We unfortunately don't have the facilities or the teaching staff to accommodate all of Beacon's students. The ones who fought have shown greater promise as Huntsmen and should be given the opportunity to finish their training, especially with… with the uncertainty and the attacks on the kingdoms."

"Yeah," Robyn answered pensively. The image of the entire fleet of the Atlesian military stationed defensively around the kingdom floated through her mind, and she couldn't help thinking that Ironwood likely had other grounds than altruism to gather such brave aspiring Huntsmen in the kingdom.

Maybe Winter sensed what was going through her mind because she continued. "The General also attempted to help the students who got injured, whether they wanted to resume their training or not," she added. "He felt that… the heroism displayed by choosing to make a stand in such an unprecedented disaster should be rewarded. He took care of the medical expenses for dozens of students, and we dispatched several prosthetics; one of them to Weiss's teammate."

So the Iron General indeed had a beating heart. "That's all very generous of him," she reflected, adding the freshly cooked pasta to the skillet and removing it from the heat.

"He is a good man, Miss Hill."

Robyn turned to her instantly; "Robyn."

Winter narrowed her eyes.

The blonde walked around the kitchen island to stand a few inches from her, with one hand on the countertop and the other grabbing the back of Winter's chair, she leaned in as she locked eyes with her. "Robyn," she repeated with emphasis, pointedly gazing down at her.

Not one to be intimidated, Winter's piercing blue eyes were locked intractably to her own. While Robyn had meant to put her foot down, she instead found herself taking the opportunity to gaze in awe of the incredibly vibrant hue of blue. What a gorgeous color. What gorgeous eyes. What a gorgeous woman.

The air had become completely still as they stared at each other, and Robyn again came aware of how close she'd gotten. Her annoyance over Winter's insistence of sticking to her last name went up in smoke. Again, she felt her heart rate accelerate, and warmth spread to her body to her fingertips. It was only a matter of leaning in if she wanted to kiss her… which she did, she really did. And… Winter hadn't said no, had she? In fact, the way Winter stared up at her had lost its defiant quality. The way she stared up at her now gave Robyn the distinct impression that she… expected it? Or wanted it? Or maybe, Winter was tempted to do it herself?

Winter parted her lips. "...Fine," she breathed, "Robyn."

Finally hearing her name gave the blonde a full-body shiver. If Robyn didn't move away, she really was going to kiss her. She made herself step back and, for a short second, Winter looked disheartened. Robyn fleetingly considered stepping right back to her and taking what she wanted. "Come on, take a seat," she motioned to the dining table as she headed to get tableware from the cupboards.

Without a word, her guest stood. Winter slipped off her blazer as she walked to change seats and hung it on the back of her chair before she sat herself. The blouse she wore underneath was sleeveless, and though it was only her arms that had been uncovered, the sight of skin bared had Robyn stop in her tracks. Winter was always covered up to her neck— even her hands were covered with gloves. Similarly to how the ever present distance between them had made Robyn extremely sensitive to the thought of touching her, this rare sight of bared skin had a ridiculous effect on her. She really had it bad.

Snapping herself out of it, she quickly dressed the table and served the food.

Robyn took a seat in front of her guest. "Go ahead, dig in."

No matter her current station, Winter had evidently retained some of her rich girl mannerisms; she held her utensils daintily as she carefully prepared her bite, which she then chewed thoroughly. Robyn never knew someone could look so poised as they ate. Naturally, Winter swallowed before addressing her; she wouldn't have spoken with food in her mouth. "This is delicious, you're a talented cook."

Robyn nodded. "Thanks, I'm happy you like it." She was transfixed by the care and delicacy with which the other woman ate. Maybe she had to be this careful with her food, what with wearing so much white?

Winter's voice brought her out of her daze. "It's your turn to tell me about yourself," she said.

Robyn blinked rapidly. "Like what? Didn't you already study me?"

"Mantle records are spotty to say the least; aside from Atlas Academy records, I found nothing that dates before your mid-twenties, not even documents as paramount as your birth certificate. I don't know who your parents are, if you have siblings, what kind of childhood you had," Winter pointed out. "Besides, though I read your profile, that file doesn't include your thought process or your motivations; I know the what and when, but not the why."

"Yeah, okay, fair," she granted, starting on her food too. "I don't have siblings. My mom was a detective with the Mantle police force —in her day, one of the best— and my dad a librarian. What else are you interested in knowing?"

"So both your parents worked for the city of Mantle," she noted. "Is that what inspired you to do the same though your formal training was as a Huntress?"

Robyn smiled lightly. She had avoided retelling the story earlier so as to not bring down the mood, but trying to avoid it now after everything that Winter had divulged of her family felt just wrong. "Remember earlier when I said I wasted both fortunes I've had?"

Winter gazed at her interestedly. "Yes, of course. You recounted the one you deemed foolish, but not the one you failed to prevent. I was under the impression that you didn't want to share that one."

"It's not like I didn't want to tell you. I just felt like it wasn't the right moment," she explained, to which the other woman gave an understanding nod. Robyn leaned back, raising her gaze contemplatively. It was hard to decide just how far back to go for context. "So… what inspired me to do what I do," she thought out loud, as she reordered her thoughts. "Mantle's been struggling for as long as I can remember. With the perimeter walls crumbling, Grimm roaming the streets weren't uncommon— still aren't," she narrated, knowing full well that she didn't need to go into the details for Winter to fully understand the picture. "And so… when I decided to be a Huntress, it wasn't because I wanted action and adventure, or because I wanted fame and renown, or because I wanted to be a hero… I just wanted to help people. I didn't know if I'd be a free-lance Huntress, if I'd enlist, or if I'd end up somewhere else, but I didn't care. All I knew was that I wanted to help."

"You mean to tell me that you considered joining the military?" Winter contended in stupefaction.

"I did," Robyn shot back. "I was still considering it too, when I first met old lady Fortuna. I was about thirteen, still in combat school, prepping for Atlas Academy. And, you know, since I decided to become a Huntress to help people, I wanted to know if I'd make a difference, so I went to her with the memory of the moment I'd made up my mind to be a Huntress," she said. "I hoped she'd tell me about something good, something worthwhile that I'd accomplish, something that'd motivate me to keep working hard with my training, right?" Robyn felt her features lose some tension; thinking back on this always dampened her mood. "Instead, she told me about the biggest storm to hit the kingdom of Atlas in a century, the one that happened twelve years ago— you were what? Fourteen? You must remember it, right?"

"I remember hearing of it," Winter said. "I was still living with my parents and didn't experience any repercussions; the city of Atlas is impervious to weather calamities."

"... Yeah," Robyn nodded faintly. "I was in my third year at the academy at that time, so I also was safe up in Atlas." With a short sigh, the blonde dejectedly stared back at her guest. It had been years, and she still couldn't believe how oblivious she had been, how she'd had this information in her hands and done nothing with it. "When I got the reading, I thought that I had made a mistake when I chose the memory of wanting to be a Huntress— because it's a memory that left it too wide open for anything about my future as a Huntress. I thought I'd just gotten a dumb vision of not being able to go on a mission with my team because of the stupid weather," she outlined with a wry smile. "At thirteen, when I got the reading, I didn't understand what a storm of that magnitude could do to Mantle's crumbling infrastructures. It never crossed my mind that it could shut down the heating grid," she explained.

Utensils forgotten in her hands, Winter had stopped eating somewhere along the way; she stared back at Robyn with clear foreboding, like she'd guessed where that story was leading.

Robyn decided to cut the chase; "Both of my parents died of hypothermia," she said. "And… we don't even know how many people died during those forty-eight hours, really. Like you said… Mantle records are spotty."

Winter looked genuinely disheartened. "I'm so sorry."

"Yeah… me too," Robyn quietly rejoined. She gave a tense shrug and cleared her throat, trying to shake off the mood. "All we can do now is try to prevent something like that from ever happening again," she continued. "And that's why I choose to do the work I do."

"Certainly, politics would allow you to affect change at a much larger scale than being a Huntress," Winter thought out loud.

"Exactly," the blonde shot back. "Although… going into politics was never something that I meant to do, I just… started giving a hand wherever I could; volunteering, and it wasn't long before my team and I were organizing people and sort of became an unofficial resource in the city. People come to us with all sorts of problems because the city's services are clogged. When that seat opened, it just felt like… the next logical step, you know? Get some official power, so I can do more and help better," she explained. No matter how hard they'd worked, things hadn't really been getting much better. They had at least stopped getting worse until the Fall of Beacon, and that just had highlighted how there was only so much she could do without legal power. Robyn sighed lightly. "I have no illusions, you know; I know that this seat won't allow me to magically fix everything that's been going wrong with Mantle" she said. "But I know I'd be able to change thousands of lives for the better, and that's a good step. It's better than what any of the other bozos who are running would do with the power that seat would give them… so I need it. I have to win."

Winter finished chewing and dabbed her mouth with a napkin, though there was nothing to wipe off. "If it means anything, you have my vote," she offered.

Robyn's eyes had widened as saucers, it took her a few seconds to find her voice. "It means a lot," she managed. "Won't your boss disapprove?"

"I'm an Atlas citizen, I have the right to vote and to cast my vote how I choose," Winter pointed out. "Someone must fill that vacant seat, and… better it be someone like you." With this she leaned back, evidently considering her next words before she went on. "Besides, considering the lead you two have, it will be you or my father who wins... and I'm pretty sure that the General despises my father almost as much as I do."

Bewildered, it took a second for her to swallow that; no wonder Winter had debated revealing this.

She was suggesting that even Ironwood may vote for her? Robyn had thought that electing Jacques Schnee as his puppet would have been the plan. "That's… good to know," Robyn mused. She'd been aware that Ironwood was iffy about how much agitation she brought, but she'd been unaware that, despite everything, she was nevertheless his preferred candidate. Maybe there was room to work together after all…?

And maybe that was a good thing, if she meant to be serious about the woman sitting in front of her.

With her eyes riveted to the icy blue ones opposite her, Robyn wondered if all that might change something for them. If they did find a way to work together, would it mean that Winter might reconsider her position? Would whatever responsibilities she had alluded to still stand in the way? And if they didn't, then did that mean that she might be open to dating her publicly? This in turn brought another question; "Hey, if you don't mind my asking… are you out?"

Winter looked surprised to be asked this. "I thought that I wasn't," she answered uneasily, "but I was recently made aware of… a rumour that has apparently been circulating since Atlas Academy."

Robyn raised an eyebrow. So Winter hadn't been aware of that rumour? Maybe it shouldn't have been a surprise, given how disconnected she'd been from her peers.

In what Robyn had come to understand was a nervous tic, Winter tucked her hair behind her left ear. "Without me having said or done anything to corroborate that rumour, it seems that all my colleagues already believed that I'm a lesbian. And… though how they came to believe this is rooted in falsehoods… it remains true that I am," she explained, visibly uncomfortable. "I guess that I am out."

Though Robyn had been thrilled hearing that rumour from May, seeing how it affected Winter was unnerving, and she felt awful for her. "Oh geez, I'm sorry about all that… you should have been able to come out on your own terms," she empathetically uttered.

Winter shrugged. "As far as I know… it hasn't reached my family's ears. That I am able to do that on my own terms is what matters."

Was that for wanting to see her father's meltdown in person, or because she didn't want her sister to hear it from would-be slandering rumours? "By that, do you mean...?"

"I mean Weiss," Winter clarified. "She's the only one whose opinion truly matters to me."

She should've known; Winter couldn't care less what her father thought— not even for getting a kick out of his misery. But given how much she did care about Weiss… "I'm surprised you never told her," Robyn reflected out loud.

"It took me a while to make peace with myself," she admitted.

"You're at peace now?"

"I'm here, aren't I?"

"You're here, but you're not exactly feeling good about it."

"My reluctance has nothing to do with the fact that you're a woman."

Robyn felt herself smile. "True," she conceded. And though that was accurate enough, Robyn suspected that it didn't matter how comfortable Winter was with herself; she certainly wouldn't consider a real relationship, a public one, without having opened up to Weiss first. "So, are you in a place where you'd want to come out to your sister?"

Being asked this gave Winter pause. "I… don't know," she carefully answered. "When Weiss inherited my responsibilities, she tried very hard to fit in and make herself into Father's idea of the perfect heir. She spent a lot of time with these high-society people; she tried to be one of them, and adopted some of their… somewhat close-minded ideas. In appearance, at least," she explained. "I'm hoping that her time at Beacon will have broadened her horizons some, but… it still worries me."

"I'd be inclined to believe that it did change her; lately she's been coming off as a bit of a rebel," Robyn offered, an effort to be encouraging. "Maybe it'll go over better than you imagine."

"We'll see when the time comes," Winter dismissed. "...Were you always comfortable with being gay?"

"Yeah, as far back as I can remember," Robyn answered. "Even as a kid, we'd play at being Huntsmen and Huntresses, and pretend going on rescue missions. I always wanted to save the damsel in distress, and I always wanted a kiss as a reward," she retold in amusement.

The unimpressed ice queen expression surfaced. "Is that your type? Defenceless women who would swoon over you?"

It made the blonde laugh. "Give me a little credit, I was a kid. I've grown, and so have my preferences."

"Is that so?" Her guest posed, observing her interestedly. "And what are your preferences now?"

Robyn's persistent grin widened. "Short military women who could slap me around."

"I'm not short," Winter instantly defended before realizing that she was being baited. "Don't tease me," she then warned.

"I'm not," Robyn defended.

"That's too specific to be a type."

"Right," she conceded jovially, "I meant to say that I like women who are deceptively strong."

Her eyebrows crinkled. "What do you mean 'deceptively'?"

"I mean: how, seeing you on the streets in civilian clothes, someone who doesn't know you wouldn't know that you're one of the best warriors on the face of Remnant," the blonde said in hopes that this would be self-explanatory. It evidently wasn't, as Winter's frown deepened. Well then, how to explain this without offending her? Robyn straightened up a little in her seat. "Don't take it wrong, but… you don't have an especially impressive build," she said instead of drawing attention to her height again, which in truth wasn't the only thing Robyn was referring to by underlining her build anyways. Winter certainly looked fit, but she wasn't muscular in a bulky way, and she wasn't lean in a way one would expect military life would have made her either; her voluptuous hourglass figure would have any woman green with envy. Between the pure white of hair and her pale skin, Winter almost looked like she was made of porcelain, and only in her uniform did she remotely look the part of the accomplished warrior that she was. Robyn didn't think she should voice any of that either. "Add to that, you have such delicate features, and… you just don't come off as the rugged soldier type, you know?"

"Hm. I see what you're getting at."

"Right?" She shot, relieved that her point was coming across. "And yet you're… really fucking dangerous."

"I am."

Knowing that Winter wasn't bragging, that she was only corroborating a fact as plainly as she would have corroborated having ten fingers, made Robyn snort in amusement.

The soldier thoughtfully gazed back at her, still trying to understand. "And so… you… like that my capacities aren't readily evident," she confirmed.

"Yeah," Robyn leaned in. "It's… I love strong women, but it's… I don't know, there's something about the… I guess... the lack of broadcasting your strength. I think it's one of those 'don't judge a book by its cover' things— like there is so much to discover, you know? And sure, I know looks versus strength is actually very superficial, but it still… whether I want to think of it like that or not, it still comes off to me as a tangible representation of depth, of things to discover, of surprises, right? And I'm a curious person; I like to peel off layers and get to the bottom of things."

Though she rolled her eyes, a playful smile drew itself across her lips. "Yes, that, I have noticed."

Seeing how more and more often Winter let her emotions show through, how much she was visibly relaxing, had Robyn enchanted. The woman really had a gorgeous smile. "Do I pry too much for your liking?"

"I can live with it," Winter answered, her smile lingering.

Live with it...? The blonde felt her heart accelerate slightly. Hadn't Winter said that today was a one-off? Could it be that, no matter her claims, Winter subconsciously knew she'd let herself see Robyn again? It was probably better not to draw attention to that— it might have the ice queen retreat again behind her impassive mask. "And what about you? Do you have a type?"

"I… don't know," she admitted. "I never let myself linger on what it was exactly about the women who made my head turn that did make it turn."

"You don't see any common thread between the women that you've…" Robyn had been about to say dated, but as she spoke, something that Winter had said a little earlier came to mind. "Earlier, you said something about having abstained from it when you felt attraction… "

"I meant it. I've never done this."

It was certainly a surprise. "You've never dated another woman or anything?"

"No," she said, and though her hair hadn't moved since she'd tucked it behind her ear, she did the motion again. "Until today, I've never as much as… held someone whom I'm attracted to."

Hearing this seriously dampened Robyn's previously brilliant mood; no wonder Winter had had trouble letting go of the hug earlier. Between this and having so few friends, she must have been starved for touch. Which led Robyn to wonder; "Did you ever uh… pretend you were straight? Did you date men?"

"I didn't."

So she had been utterly solitary. It was hard to conceive that such a desirable woman would have remained so completely sidelined. Though… it didn't matter how attractive she was if she was the one who'd sequestered herself behind near-insurmountable walls of ice. Robyn still found it hard to assimilate. "So you've never been… close in any way with anyone?"

"...No," Winter admitted under her breath. "Pathetic, isn't it?"

"No, of course not," Robyn instantly said. Nevermind that Winter had done this to herself, people have different priorities. One might not want, need, or have time for a relationship for pursuing passion, living a life of travel, chasing a demanding career, or simply for lack of wanting it. Though judging by Winter's despondency… her solitude might have been by design, but it certainly wasn't what she had longed for. "... Wasn't it lonely?"

"...Very."

Robyn had to smother the impulse to get up and go hug her. Though she understood that a large part of the situation was due to Winter's career, Robyn couldn't help thinking that… meeting the right woman might have overhauled her plans. The fact that Winter was in her home today was only proof of that. "Did you never meet anyone who you could see yourself with?"

"I've never let anyone close enough to find out," she confided. "Any woman who I found attractive, I… well, you've been on the receiving end," Winter pointed out. "I drove them off as fast as I could."

"I thought that you'd only done that with me because you had the wrong idea about what kind of person I was and what I wanted to do," Robyn said, somewhat taken aback. So it wasn't just the privileged and powermongers whom she would ward off this way. "You mind telling me why?"

"Hm… the why has changed over the years," Winter disclosed. "May it be internal turmoil, difficulty coming to terms with my desires, or career focus... there was never a time in my life when I was both ready and able to seek a relationship," she outlined. "Resulting in this; me promptly terminating any prospect before I could be tempted."

Yet… Winter was here with her. "So what's different now?"

The way she gazed at her, Robyn couldn't read. It was something part apprehensive and part tender. Winter sighed. "Frankly… you," she eventually answered. "You're the first to ever be amused by my attempts at making them dislike me."

Well, maybe she could have seen that coming. "I was only amused because I understood what you were doing," Robyn still offered. "I don't know if I'd have thought it was as much fun if I hadn't noticed how differently you acted with the workers."

"Maybe," Winter conceded, "but you have noticed, no one else ever did. Or if they did, it didn't matter to them the way it evidently mattered to you."

"So… are you saying that the only reason that you're sitting here with me today is 'cause I'm buttheaded and decided to keep chatting you up anyways?"

It made her smile. "Yes and no," the snow-haired woman answered. "You gained my respect when you were able to convey how different your motivations are from other political players, when I was able to get a real sense of who you are," she said. "But… had you not been so incredibly attractive on top of it all, I would have been able to resist going against my better judgement. And I wouldn't be sitting here."

Incredibly attractive— it coursed under her skin like an electric jolt. "How flattering," Robyn grinned from ear to ear.

Winter's focus lowered slightly, as it had a few times today, her gaze riveted to Robyn's mouth. "I didn't mean to flatter you, it's only the truth," she said.

Acknowledging with a hum, Robyn watched her stare for a few seconds. When she'd previously drawn attention to this, Winter had dismissed it, so Robyn decided to be more straightforward this time around. "You want to kiss me, Winter? You've been staring at my lips an awful lot."

Her cool blue eyes tracked up Robyn's features to hold her gaze in an unyielding, penetrating stare. "Why ask?" She inquired. "You know that I do."

How bold. Robyn's heart was suddenly pounding again. "Why haven't you yet?" She dared. "I'm sure you know I'd be thrilled."

Allowing a silence, Winter parted her lips to exhale a controlled sort of breath, like she needed to get a hold of herself. "Because it's not about what I want, it's about what I must do," she reiterated.

Duty again. Robyn sighed and leaned back in her chair, staring at her guest pensively. "So… if you were free to do what you want," she posed, "what might've today led to?"

"Led to?" Winter repeated, cocking her head. Something barely concealed and incredibly enticing surfaced in her gaze. "Are you asking me if I would have slept with you?"

"Uh…" She cleared her throat. "Well I wouldn't hate knowing that, but I was asking something like… Do you like me enough that there would have been a second date?"

"Unquestionably."

"And what about... " She trailed off, thinking it over for a second; Robyn didn't know how to ask this without coming off as presumptuous, pushy, or desperate. "...Do you think that maybe… it could have been more serious than just a couple of dates?"

Winter's gaze remained steadily on Robyn's, unreadable for a moment.

"Sorry," Robyn quickly said, unsure if the other woman was simply considering the answer or if she felt bothered by repeatedly being put in a position where she had to shoot Robyn down. "I know the deal, I'm not trying to pressure you. I'm just curious."

It took another moment for her to elect to answer. "After today, I'm certain that given the opportunity… yes, this could have been more. We could have found something right for both of us," she granted, "something real and true," she added more quietly. Voicing this seemed to pain her— maybe for denying herself what she desired or maybe for deploring the duty that obliged her to do sowhat could have been. Winter inhaled sharply, trying to regain her composure. "It's getting late," she said, standing up somewhat abruptly. She started gathering her cutlery to clean up.

"You don't have to do that," Robyn quickly said, standing up too. "I'll take care of it later," she added, coming around the table and reaching out to prevent her from gathering the dishes. Her hand brushed Winter's and they both instantly looked at each other.

For the third time that evening, Robyn felt that energy in the air again, the thing that made her so aware of how easy it would be to lean in and kiss her, the thing that made her feel deep down in her gut that it was all Winter was waiting for, no matter how she claimed she couldn't. Breathing out shakily, Robyn repeated the motion of her hand, this time caressing Winter's deliberately, and Winter turned her hand under hers to caress her palm and fingers in return, eliciting goosebumps throughout Robyn's body. And naturally… Robyn just couldn't resist this time. Her hand slid up the velvety skin of Winter's arm to grab hold of her, keeping her still as she leaned over to gently press her lips to hers.

If the entire world had come to an end in that moment, Robyn wouldn't have known. Her heart was in her throat, her mind both racing and blank, and she was lost in a suspended moment. How completely enraptured she was with her lips was unprecedented; Robyn couldn't remember ever relishing this much in a kiss. After what seemed like an eternity, she remembered herself and somehow forced herself to draw back.

When Winter's eyes fluttered open, she stared up at her with her eyes wide, like she couldn't believe what had just happened. She exhaled shortly, a sort of disbelieving gasp. Without a word, she cupped Robyn's face with both hands, leaning in again to kiss her, and unlike Robyn had just done, she didn't simply press her lips to hers, no. Winter kissed her almost forcefully, savoring her lips with longing and undue ardor, and Robyn's knees weakened underneath her. Winter's hands caressed down her neck and firmly grabbed the front of her sweater, pulling her closer. Everything that had been suppressed over the last weeks, what urges had remained caged behind every one of Winter's charged gazes, what desires had been censored behind every dutiful answer she'd given, it all came pouring out as she devoured Robyn's lips. And yes, Robyn had glimpsed that something tempestuous laid behind that frosty façade of hers, but she never could have imagined what intensity Winter was capable of. How breathtaking.

Robyn wrapped her arms around her and pulled her closer, relishing in the feeling of her body against hers, kissing her back with matching fervor. How impossibly liberating, how cathartic to finally be able to give into something she'd been fantasising about for the better part of two months. She loved her body against hers, she loved her arms hugging... Winter wasn't truly hugging her back, she now noticed. Yes, her arms were around Robyn, but her hands were busy contouring Robyn's shoulders and back, running down her waist, getting a good feel of the shape of her body. Winter's hands circled from her hips to her back again, and the way they hung low on her back gave Robyn the impression for a second that they would slide down to her ass.

Without thinking about it too much, Robyn unsteadily stepped back, inciting the other woman to follow along as they kissed. The dining area was an open space that gave onto the living room and, in Robyn's small flat, it was only a few steps to the sofa. And though she'd meant to sit them down, consumed with each other as they were, Robyn found herself with Winter under her. Completely losing control, Robyn pushed against her, trying to get their bodies somehow closer, impossibly aware of the other woman's thighs pressed to each side of her waist, of the way her legs were spread to accommodate Robyn's body over hers. Winter's hands fell from her shoulders, caressing down her neckline, but not quite daring further down to her breasts. Her fingers curled around the fabric of her sweater, as if to stop herself.

"It's okay," Robyn whispered between kisses, "you can touch me however you want," and as soon as those words left her mouth, she felt Winter's hands release her shirt to nervously move down to her chest. As her fingers pressed into Robyn's flesh, grabbing hold of one of her breasts and feeling her through the fabric, Winter let out a gentle moan that sent goosebumps down Robyn's spine. And now, the same as Robyn's kiss had opened the floodgates to a tidal wave, daring this first intimate touch quickly unshackled Winter's appetite for more. Before Robyn knew it, the only boundary left was her clothing, which she was quickly considering doing away with.

This thought gave her pause, and she somehow made herself draw back to look at her. The vision of Winter with her lipstick smudged and her lips swollen from Robyn's greedy commandeering of them, with her half-lidded eyes misty with high emotions and darkened by desire, with her white hair sprawled uncharacteristically messily around her had more of an effect on Robyn than even the most explicit images in any of her fantasies had had.

"You're so goddamn beautiful," Robyn whispered, gently moving her fingers across her jaw to cup her cheek. Her thumb grazed the corner of her mouth, and Winter, holding her gaze unyieldingly, parted her lips. Robyn felt the wet warmth of her tongue against her thumb, and a hot flash ran down her spine. She exhaled heavily, realizing just how impossibly turned on she'd gotten. Looking down on the other woman laying on her back, hot and ready, Robyn couldn't help thinking back on what had been said earlier, on what she herself had said; that it was too soon. It suddenly felt like it couldn't be soon enough. She wanted her so much, she didn't know how to deny herself. She wanted to make her feel doted on and cherished, she wanted to somehow try to abate the years of solitude and loneliness. She wanted to show her how good it felt to share such intimacy, how amazing it felt when the entire world narrowed down to only one other person. Robyn's hand on her cheek lost itself in the criminally soft white hair, as she held her gaze, gauging her response as she asked; "...Do you wanna do this?"

Winter breathed shakily, she seemed to come aware of how her hands had strayed because she moved them from Robyn's ass to her lower back. "You said that it wasn't why you brought me here," she whispered.

"It wasn't," Robyn confirmed, at a loss with how quickly everything had escalated. "I… I've wanted this, but I wasn't planning on it when I brought you here. I just wanted some privacy to get to know you," she explained in all honesty. Though she had yearned to close the alienating distance, Robyn could have never guessed, as she sat with her in that café earlier today, where the evening would lead them. She would have never ventured hoping that Winter would let herself be so vulnerable and confide so much in her, or that they would connect so deeply. "I never thought we'd get to a point today where it'd… feel so natural to— and, I mean… I liked you from day one, but I didn't imagine I'd get to like you this much more this fucking fast," she admitted.

Her eyes were steadily on Robyn's. "How much more?"

Robyn gazed back down at her for a moment, trying to assess it for herself. Winter mattered a lot to her, it certainly wasn't a simple flirt— it probably hadn't been for a while now. Robyn knew for a fact that she had passed the point of no return; she certainly couldn't relinquish the idea of a future together without harrowing heartache. Trying to come up with an answer, her gaze was lost in that gorgeous hue of blue.

How much more? The real answer was: probably so much that the truth would scare Winter away.

"I can't remember the last time I felt like this about anyone," Robyn murmured, unsure if she'd ever felt this way before. "You're… really special."

Delicately, Winter's hand found its way over Robyn's still on her cheek. "You're special to me too," she admitted quietly. "I have always had a hard time opening up to people, but with you… it's effortless. And I've never been so… powerlessly drawn to anyone this way before." Taking a quivering breath, she gently brought Robyn's hand closer to her mouth to kiss the inside of her palm. "From the first time you approached me, I couldn't get you out of my head," she said, reminding Robyn how she had incessantly been drawn to stare at her. "I think of you at all hours; day and night."

Heat spread through her body again. "Night too, huh?"

"Especially at night."

Robyn leaned in again. Winter's fingers as she took her face in her hands were burningly warm, and her palms a little moist. She incited Robyn to lean even closer, gracing her with another head-spinning kiss, and Robyn eagerly responded with matching passion. Again, Winter's hands fell from her shoulders to caress down her body, this time unashamedly fondling her breasts. Her thumb rolled over a nipple so hard that it could be felt through the heavy wool of Robyn's sweater.

Incapable of remembering why she had originally decided that the evening should remain chaste, Robyn found herself asking; "Want me to take it off?"

"Yes," Winter was already urgently pulling it up at the hem.

Robyn promptly kneeled up, getting the garment over her head and throwing it aside. The way Winter gazed up at her told of how, though she'd been touching plenty, she hadn't realized that Robyn wore nothing underneath. Her surprise was quickly overtaken with fervent hunger and unambiguous lust; Winter sat up, her hands tracing Robyn's hips, caressing their way up her toned stomach, settling on her waist, blue eyes all the while remaining on her denuded chest. Winter breathed out unsteadily. It was as though she didn't dare go any further, and it forced Robyn to remember that this was the other woman's first time being intimate with someone.

Gently, Robyn cupped her cheek, turning her to meet her eyes for a second, then slowly, she drew her into her arms. Winter clutched her in return, burying her face in her chest. Hot, unsteady breath moistened Robyn's skin, and her balmy hands on her naked back felt tense. Robyn leaned her cheek on top of her head, breathing the incredibly enticing scent of her hair as her fingers comfortingly massaged the base of her neck and her shoulders. How she loved holding her. "You're okay?"

She hummed in approval, the tension in her body slowly abating. Robyn allowed her to remain nestled in her arms as long as needed, allowing for her to decide if she wanted to proceed or if this was enough for her. Sure enough, after a short moment, Winter slowly moved her head, tentatively kissing her chest. Robyn's fingers buried themselves in her hair, comfortingly scratching her scalp as lips slowly moved across her skin, and Robyn wondered if the other woman could feel how hard her heart was pounding. It was stupefying how much palpitation she felt; Robyn wasn't usually nervous or coy when she'd get intimate with a new partner. Feeling her mouth brush against her nipple sent a jolt that electrified her to the tips of her fingers and toes, and feeling her tongue push against it had Robyn gasp despite herself. She shakily brushed the white hair out of the other woman's face, which got her to glance up at her. What gleamed in Winter's eyes was hypnotizing, and Robyn couldn't stifle what rose inside of her; her own desire to ravish her, to make her scream in pleasure, to entirely possess her if only for a few moments. She pushed her down on her back again, crashing her lips to hers, and Winter hungrily kissed her back.

Fingers swiftly unbuttoned the white blouse to uncover skin, and though Robyn's blood was boiling and her hands were hot, Winter's bare stomach twitched at the brush of her fingers. How smooth and warm was her skin. Robyn wanted nothing more than to feel her naked body naked against her own— …that was wrong, there was one thing she wanted more in that moment; she drew from the kiss to behold what she'd uncovered.

As Robyn might have ventured guessing, the woman was simply gorgeous, from the round shape of her full breasts, to how her slightly muscular stomach did nothing to diminish her hourglass shape. What did surprise Robyn was, having half-expected military-issue underwear, discovering that Winter was wearing white lace. How appropriately elegant, and how criminally beautiful. Was this typical choice of undergarment typical, or had Winter considered the possibility of Robyn seeing them and picked accordingly…?

Winter raised herself on her elbows to help get the blouse off completely, and Robyn gathered her again in her arms as soon as she could. The intimacy of skin against skin and the heat building in the air between them, around them, went straight to her head, making her dizzy.

She needed to know what Winter's body would feel like completely naked against her own, she craved to learn every curve and every sensitive spot, know the scent of her skin and the taste of her sweat. "Fuck, I want you so much," Robyn breathed, her nose buried in the white hair, completely intoxicated with its perfume. "I can't even tell you how much— I've wanted you from day one."

"I know," Winter whispered in return. Her hands searched Robyn's back like she was memorizing its shape and her lips burned Robyn's neck. "The way you looked at me has haunted me ever since."

Her saying this brought Robyn back to what Winter had said about thinking of her especially at night, and though it was insinuated, Robyn wanted to hear it; "You fantasized about me?"

Winter pressed her forehead against her and inhaled like she might be gathering her nerves. "More than I'd care to admit," she confessed.

"You've touched yourself thinking about me?" she murmured, febrile at the image it evoked in her mind. Feeling Winter's head against her move in a faint nod again washed Robyn in desire, coursing like fire through her veins. "Thinking about what?"

Winter stayed silent this time, and it was no wonder; Robyn had been somewhat surprised that she had owned up to what she had to begin with. It was perhaps her own turn to offer something, and she shifted just enough to whisper in her ear. "I do it thinking about my tongue inside you," she admitted, hearing Winter's breath catch in her throat. With an insuppressible grin stretching her lips, Robyn drew back to look at her; the way Winter stared at her with her eyes wide and full of anticipation spoke loud and clear.

Keeping eye contact, Robyn slowly undid the button on Winter's trousers, then the zipper. "I'm gonna make you feel so good," she murmured, caressing the newly uncovered skin of her lower stomach.

Wordlessly, Winter raised her hips to pull her pants down past her ass. Robyn separated from her enough to rid her of them completely, stopping for a second to admire the view. She wasn't as muscular as Robyn had expected— or rather, she had a healthy layer of fat hiding some of the definition, but she definitely had substantial muscle mass. There was faint definition on her stomach and her fleshy thighs looked tight and smooth. Though neither her uniform nor her casual clothes completely subdued her assets, Robyn was still awed to see how ridiculously voluptuous she was. Her pale skin was devoid of any sort of blemishes, moles and even of scars— which was uncommon for any trained Huntsmen or Huntresses, let alone seasoned military personnel— was this a testament to her skill, or to the sheer amount of aura she generated? Either way… like the very first time she'd seen her, Robyn was again reminded of a work of art sculpted from marble. Without a doubt, Winter was the most attractive woman she'd had the luck to be with— no, she was unquestionably the most beautiful woman she'd ever laid her eyes on. "You have no right to be this sexy," she heard herself say.

Winter's gaze quickly swiped down her nude torso before she met her eyes again. "Look who's talking," she answered, her voice low and husky.

Before she knew it, Robyn was over her again, devouring her lips. Winter welcomed her with open arms, her hands finding her breasts again, and Robyn pressed into her touch. She felt like she was losing her mind. Winter's heavy breath mingled with her own, her naked thighs were warm around Robyn's waist, and her lace underwear was damp, sticking to Robyn's stomach. She wanted to bury her face between her legs, she felt herself salivating at the thought of it. "Holy fuck," Robyn mouthed, hazy with desire. "I could get used to this."

As she said those last words, Robyn felt hands on her shoulders. "Robyn," Winter uttered shakily, drawing her gaze. "Remember, I… can't have— I… I said I couldn't see you again, this isn't… " As she spoke, whatever had originally inhibited her from indulging her desires seemed to come to the forefront of her mind. Robyn watched as what color lust had given her cheeks drained to a sickly white. Winter's body quickly became rigid under hers, her eyes filling with dread. "Oh my god, what are we doing," she whispered in disbelief.

Robyn felt her heart sink in her chest.

Still finding her bearings after this abrupt awakening, Winter distraughtly glanced around the room before she made an awkward motion to attempt to extract herself from under Robyn. "I shouldn't have come here, it was a mistake," she uttered with difficulty.

Though it was the last thing that she wanted, Robyn moved away to allow her to sit up. "Winter, hang on," she quickly shot despite not knowing what to say.

"I can't believe myself, how irresponsible," Winter griped under her breath, abruptly getting up.

Robyn's sense of alarm skyrocketed. "Wait, Winter, listen, " she attempted again though she had no idea how to appease her. This had been exactly what Robyn had been afraid of, the very reason she'd known she had to wait— she'd known! How stupid did she have to be to let herself be carried away like this! Hurriedly, she grabbed her sweatshirt as she watched the other woman gathering her garments. "Winter, stop for a second, will you?"

She barely glanced her way as she slid on her pants. "This can't happen again, forget it ever—"

"Winter," Robyn firmly cut in, and Winter stopped her pacing, yet didn't turn her way. Although Robyn had gotten her to listen, she still had no idea how to assuage her. Desperate to backtrack, desperate for the evening not to end so catastrophically, Robyn nevertheless forced herself to find something to say. "...Listen, I… can't even begin to imagine what's preventing you to— and I know that you can't tell me, but… I can't forget today."

Winter zipped up her pants and slowly slipped her blouse. She stubbornly avoided looking at her, focusing on re-fastening her top. "It's better that you do, because I will."

"And how are you gonna do that?"

Winter halted halfway through buttoning her blouse. Her blank stare moved from her immobile hands to finally look at Robyn and she gave a despondent shrug, clearly miserable. "I don't know, but I have to."

Between her own desires and seeing Winter's pain while not knowing why she denied herself this way, Robyn could only be compelled to try and change her mind. "I get that you have a job to do and you can't be distracted, but it's not like you can control what you feel or who you think about," she carefully tried. "And now we actually have a shot at something worthwhile. We can find a way to make this work."

"You don't know what's at stake," she snapped and, hearing her tone, Winter took a deep breath. Her hands went to her temples to massage them anxiously. "This will pass, it's— it's just stupid, childish, meaningless infatuation."

Although it was obvious that Winter said this in an attempt to convince herself, it hurt to hear her call it that. "Is it?" Robyn challenged, standing up. "Come on, really?"

The sudden assertive opposition drew Winter's attention, and for a second, as she met her eyes, deep yearning surfaced. She tore her gaze away. "I don't know," she frankly threw back, "but I won't find out."

Being hellbent as Robyn generally was to uncover the truth, she couldn't believe that someone would knowingly avoid finding out what lurked deep within themselves. That rang especially wrong knowing that to get over any sort of emotional baggage, one needed to confront it. "Pretending that it's not there isn't gonna make it go away. It's the opposite; whatever you're feeling, it's gonna stay just as is for as long as you don't touch it," she contended. "You're gonna need to know what it is, even if it's just so you can start to move past it."

The way Winter glanced at her made it clear that she knew that Robyn was right. "I don't know what it is, Robyn, but it's not so big that I won't be able to ignore it," she nevertheless said.

Maybe it was in part a projection of her own wishes, but Robyn just couldn't believe that. She reminded herself how, after all, Winter's desire to be with her was powerful enough that she found herself acting against what she claimed were her duty and obligations. Not to mention, the way Winter had looked at her only moments ago spoke for itself. "You've never let yourself get involved with anyone else before, that you did with me means something," Robyn pointed out.

Winter's jaw visibly set as she evidently steeled herself against the claim. "It means nothing," she insisted, finally remembering her half-buttoned blouse and busying herself with that. "You're reading too much into it."

They both knew that was false, and it gave rise to some anger in Robyn. "Come on, Winter, cut the crap," she promptly answered. "For you of all people to —even for just a second— stop caring about your duties, for you to let yourself slip this far, it means that this isn't nothing."

Remaining silent this time, Winter's hands fell to her sides. She didn't seem to know what to do with herself for a second, and Robyn stepped up to her. Slowly, afraid that she might recoil from her touch, she cupped her cheek. Winter pressed into her hand, her features contorting with grief.

Encouraged by this, she reached out with her other hand, lacing her fingers with hers. "You said it yourself, you think that this could really be something," Robyn reminded her, gently squeezing her hand in hers. "you don't want to throw it away."

Winter let out a pained sort of gasp. "Of course I don't want to," she admitted achingly, her eyes glassy.

"Then why are you?"

"Because it's not about me, Robyn, none of it is about what I want," she answered in desperation. Searching Robyn's eyes in vain for understanding, Winter seemed to grasp that her motivations were too nebulous to receive it. She let go of Robyn's hand and stepped away from her touch. "In the grand scheme of things, what you and I want… it doesn't matter," she said despondently, "only the greater good does."

How ominous that sounded made her falter. How in the hell did Winter think the greater good might weigh against what she wanted? "What does that even mean?"

"That I'm not free," she summarized, grabbing her blazer from the kitchen chair. She slowly slipped it on. "And I can't harbor any sort of feelings towards you."

At a loss, Robyn watched as the other woman made her way to the door. How far the evening had led them despite Winter having explained that she couldn't afford romance was telling of at least one thing: "Don't you already?"

She halted for a short moment. "It doesn't matter. I can't allow it," Winter said quietly, slipping on her crimson pumps. Her hand on the door handle, she didn't look back as she uttered; "This never happened."

The door closed behind her.

---

Thursday; weekly meeting. Robyn wasn't listening. The bulk of what was being said, she had already gone over with her team. This gathering was first and foremost meant to organize volunteers, of which a handful of appointed leaders were present. Robyn couldn't be bothered to listen, instead staring at the tiny blue screen in her hand. Staring at the lack of response from the woman who had inadvertently conquered her utterly completely. She had sent Winter a handful of messages since that evening, and they'd all gone unanswered; the last two were still unread.

Forget it happened, Winter had demanded.

Like she could ever.

"Robyn," Fiona's scolding tone snapped her back to the present. "Any comments?"

"I wasn't listening, sorry," she readily admitted, putting her device down.

Her teammate gave a weary sigh. "Let's take a break," she said, signalling to the volunteers that they could and, in fact, should leave the room. Fiona sat with her. "You've been out of it for the past few days," she commented.

The statement was meant to be a question, Robyn knew, but she didn't feel like engaging. "Yeah," she unhelpfully acknowledged.

"Did something happen?"

"Yeah," she sank into her chair and added nothing else.

Fiona waited for a moment, eventually deciding that if it was important, Robyn would speak up. "I take it that it's nothing we should know?" she carefully confirmed.

The fact that her friend would graze the idea that what Robyn brooded over may concern the Happy Huntresses raised Robyn's sense of alertness. "What does that mean?"

Fiona's green eyes remained steadily on her features, on the lookout for any clue that may emerge as she reasoned; "This mood of yours, it started the day after you went to check what was up with Schnee's presence in Mantle."

It might have been undiscerning of Robyn to have failed to project that this would be completely obvious. She was nevertheless unwilling to volunteer any of it. "So?"

A sheep ear flicked in annoyance, though Fiona was doing a good job of not letting it show on her features. "Is something going on?" She finally asked, point-blank.

"What makes you think that?"

"You told Joanna you trusted her," she said, divulging as such that their teammate hadn't kept that bit to herself. "And then you brought her to your place." Ah. So their informants reported Robyn's activities to her team? "And now… you're clearly not yourself," Fiona finished.

It was indeed more than enough to raise suspicions. "Okay, all good points."

Fiona waited a few moments again, yet obtained no explanations. Her irritation with Robyn's uncooperativeness mounted enough that a small frown broke through. "So? Is something going on?"

Robyn herself was starting to get peevish with how much her teammate was beating around the bush . Fiona had something specific in mind, they both knew what it was, and yet she wasn't saying it. "What are you asking me?" The blonde flatly asked.

"Were you working on some sort of alliance with General Ironwood that somehow fell through?"

That wasn't what laid behind this entire questioning. "No," Robyn firmly answered. "Nothing like that."

"Okay," Fiona nodded and, sure enough, she didn't seem satisfied. "Is there something else we should know, then?"

Robyn stared at her, wishing she'd come out with it already. "Like what?"

Her friend stayed silent. Fiona clearly didn't want to articulate the accusation on the tip of her tongue. Maybe it was hard for her to conceive that Robyn would be so reckless when this campaign was going so well, when it was their best chance to seize legal power and make a real difference. Maybe it was for a sense of betrayal that Robyn would turn her affections towards a woman from high-society, and not just any of them. Between how the SDC treated faunus and how much Mantle was suffering under the oppressive measures the military enforced for the Iron General, Winter Schnee certainly represented something abhorrent to a vast majority of Mantle citizens.

Fiona stared up at her with a jilted sort of look. "... When have you started being friends with Ironwood's Special Ops?"

Robyn thought about it for a moment. Was it worth creating turmoil within her team by revealing what had gone down? After all, though she hadn't given up on Winter, it might still be that nothing further would come of it. Why upset her team if it was over? "I just… got in a bit of a habit of chatting with her during those events I've attended in Atlas. We're… friendly." Or were. Robyn didn't know anymore.

"Friendly enough to casually spend a day with her?"

"It's not like I planned on it. She came down to ask me to stop those people who had been taking their anger out on Penny," Robyn explained. "Then we… got into talking, and she ended up hanging around."

"And you brought her to your place," Fiona squinted a dubious eye.

"We couldn't be anywhere else without everyone staring at us."

"I see." She remained clearly unconvinced.

This tedious tiptoeing reached an aggravating peak, and Robyn groaned. "Just say it," she said. "I know what you're thinking, so just say it."

Her lips tightened disapprovingly, but she kept it together. "She's your type to a T."

There, finally. "That's right."

"And that had nothing to do with the fact that you brought her to your place?" She skeptically asked.

Robyn shrugged noncommittally. "And what if it did?"

Now her face fell. "Seriously, Robyn‽ She's literally everything we've been fighting against!"

"She's not," Robyn snapped in irritation. However unbothered Winter was with what people thought of her, Robyn hated how misunderstood by the general public the woman was. "She's not the enemy, Fi; she isn't her father. If anything, she's more like May. She too turned her back on that life to instead go out there and fight. To try to make things better the best she knows how." With a deep exhalation, Robyn shook off the mounting aggravation. "She's a good person, and… that's great news. 'Cause when I'm elected, we'll need to find a way to work with Ironwood. And if choosing her as his second in command is any indication of who the man is, then maybe the situation isn't as dire as we thought."

With a half-convinced frown, her faunus teammate seemed to be processing what had been said. In all this, though Robyn had neither confirmed nor infirmed that something had happened between her and Winter, she realized that defending her so adamantly would certainly damn her. Before Fiona could think about it too much or come back to her original accusation, Robyn added: "She said she'd vote for me."

Momentarily forgetting her concerns, Fiona shot up on her feet. "Oh! That's great news," she exclaimed. "We didn't project that we may get some of the military personnel's votes! We might be further ahead than we thought!"

Before Robyn could answer that, the door slammed open. "Robyn," May called. "Grimm, two blocks from here."

Doubly thankful for the interruption —escaping her friend's grilling and having been anxiously awaiting this kind of opportunity— Robyn was on her feet instantly. "Fucking finally!" She exclaimed, grabbing her coat. Grimm meant that Penny would be turning up, and if Winter wasn't going to answer Robyn's messages, then she was going to find another way to talk to her. "You all finish the meeting without me," she shot, already out the door before either of her teammates could put a word in.

With how fast the mechanical girl flew to and from crisis areas, it had been downright impossible to intercept her. Oh, Penny was certainly very easy to track, but she was equally impossible to catch up with. Robyn had realized that if she wanted a chance to talk to the Protector of Mantle, she needed to anticipate where she would show and hope to make it there before Penny was done with the Grimm.

And sure enough, though Robyn had only been minutes away, she only reached the scene in time to see the black vapor the soulness beasts would leave behind as they disintegrated. A glow appeared under Penny's feet as she prepared to leave.

"Penny!" Robyn called out, hoping she'd hear her.

The redhead turned towards her. "Robyn Hill!" She exclaimed in surprise; the green aura that let her hover subsided and she touched the ground again.

Robyn slowed her jog, stopping a few feet from her. "Geez, you weren't kidding when you said you could respond faster than any team," she shot, catching her breath. "I was only two blocks away and I can barely get there and yet you're already done cleaning up the Grimm and moving on! You're a hard girl to keep up with!"

"I was unaware that you were trying to keep up with me," she said curiously.

"I've been trying to catch you over the last week," Robyn admitted. "I wanted to chat. How have your patrols been going?"

"Greatly productive!"

Robyn nodded. "I could've guessed that," she said, glancing around at the lack of Grimm. "And is everyone treating you okay now?"

Penny seemed taken aback. "Yes, thank you for your concern."

So Winter hadn't told Penny about the request she'd made to Robyn. "That's good to hear," she smiled. In the small silence that ensued, it was clear that the redhead was still confused as to why Robyn would have gone out of her way to catch up with her. The tall blonde cleared her throat. "Hey, has Winter been busy lately?"

Penny hummed. "Not any more than usual," she said, then appeared to think of something else. "Although, it may seem that she is busier given that she seems to have fallen ill, her capacity to complete her tasks is markedly reduced."

"She's sick?"

"I believe so."

"Like, how sick? A cold? Is she okay?" Robyn probed worriedly.

"She's fit enough to report for duty every day, but her vital signs have been weaker, and she has been more fatigued," Penny explained. "Her immune system must be fighting some pesky pathogen."

Vital signs? Robyn blinked in astonishment. So Penny could read vital signs? It probably shouldn't be surprising that they would've given her this kind of capacity when they built her, but it certainly was something to keep in mind. "So she doesn't have flu symptoms or anything like that," Robyn confirmed. "You're saying that she's sick because she's unusually tired and all."

Penny nodded. "It is expected of the human body as it is fighting a viral infection, especially during the typical twenty-four hours to seventy-two hours of the incubation period."

"And Winter has been like that for how long?" she asked, completely expecting the date to match up with that evening.

"Five days," Penny said, then frowned in perplexity.

Bingo. So Winter wasn't doing well either. Robyn felt a little gross that something deep down rejoiced at the news. But it did mean that Winter was quite emotionally invested if she was affected such, didn't it? "Seems like it's something else. Did you try talking to her about it?"

"I haven't." Penny's eyebrows crinkled in concentration. "What might be the issue then?"

"It might be that there's nothing wrong physically, but she's preoccupied."

The girl looked downright mystified. "I was unaware that emotional turmoil could manifest physically!"

"It can, especially if it disturbs sleep," Robyn clarified. "You should check up on her," she suggested. "Winter doesn't have many friends to be there for her, does she."

Penny's hands suddenly balled into little fists. "I will be there for my friend," she affirmed, extremely motivated.

Robyn smiled lightly. The redhead was starting to grow on her despite all the reservations she'd had, and she was finally starting to understand why Winter was so gentle with her. "Say Penny, could you do me a solid? Do you think you could tell me anything about her schedule? Nothing classified, just stuff like… where she might make a public appearance, or when she has business in Mantle," she outlined. "I'd like to be able to see her."

"Are you worried for her too? Because you're friends?"

"... Did she say we were friends?"

Penny grinned happily. "Oh, she didn't say it, but she's very friendly with you! She's always so excited to see you."

"...Excited, huh," Robyn repeated, thinking back on how Penny could read vital signs. Surely she didn't mean that, she seemed too innocent.

"Very much," she naively corroborated. "Winter certainly likes you very much."

If Penny knew at least this much, then she'd clearly know that Robyn wasn't a threat, and that asking about her schedule wasn't to ambush Winter, so she tried asking again."So do you think that there's any way I could… meet her quietly for a few minutes? To talk is all."

Penny thought it over for a short second, and then gave a nod.

[TBC]

The next chapter will take a little while, it will be happening in parallel with and crossing over ch10 of my other fic, Brighter, so I intend to release both chapters at the same time :)