Rating: K, this is pretty much mindless fluff

Timeframe: Kid Robin

Spoilers: None whatsoever

"Did you enjoy your reading?"

Robin nodded at Professor Clover emphatically. With a small grunt of effort, she placed her stack of books on the counter. "Oh, yes. They were all very interesting."

"And which one did you like best?" Clover asked, noting the return of the books in the library's record. Young Nico Robin's name dominated the page. Briefly he wondered what he would recommend to her next. Despite being just shy of seven years old, her voracious reading habits rivaled even the most dedicated of scholars.

"The Castle of Walpole was interesting. I liked the haunted castle with all the secret compartments. It would be fun to live in a place like that."

Clover chuckled. He had been hesitant to recommend such a book, fearing that the ghosts might scare her, but it seemed like he needn't have worried. "I see."

"And I learned a new word," Robin said brightly. "Makabur," she said it slowly, savoring the feeling it made on her tongue.

"Er, could you say that again, dear? My hearing isn't what it used to be."

"Makaber," she repeated. "Ghoulish, ghastly, grisly. It's a fun word."

Apparently he hadn't misheard her after all, and Robin had stumbled across the word macabre without knowing how to say it properly. Professor Clover had to hide his m

outh with his hand to keep from smiling. "Ah, yes, it is very good. But your pronunciation is off, dear. It's muh-kah-bruh or muh-kahb, depending on region."

"That's a bird," Robin protested.

"Not macaw, muh-kahb. And no matter the region it certainly doesn't rhyme with massacre."

"But that's stupid!" Robin exclaimed. "They both end with –re. If a word sounds like a tropical bird it shouldn't be a synonym for horrifying!"

"Well, um, I see you're point, but you're still incorrect," Clover said, wondering how he always got into these sort of conversations with a six year old girl. "Although I'm fairly sure their etymologies are unrelated."

Robin only stared at him.

"If it makes you feel any better, I didn't know how to say epitome until I was twenty-one." Clover stroked his beard as the terrible memory came into his mind. "I was presenting a paper to the Archeology Society and I pronounced it 'epi-tome'. You can imagine my embarrassment when I was corrected."

"Wait, that's not how it's pronounced?" Robin asked, clearly confused.

"E-pit-ah-me. Four syllables, not two."

"Four syllables…" Robin looked up at him in horror. "I've been saying it wrong my whole life."

"Robin, dear, most children your age don't even know epitome is a word at all." Clover patted her head fondly. "You've got an incredible vocabulary, but unfortunately we don't use our entire vocabularies in everyday conversation. For example, despite the inherent humor in the word 'aplomb' I can't use it more than once a day without sounding pretentious." He sighed dramatically. "It is our gift, and our curse."

Robin giggled. "You're being silly."

"Perhaps," Clover conceded with a small smile. "But the point stands. Now, how about we look for some new reading material before you have to go home?"

"That sounds wonderful," Robin said, sliding her hand into his. "Maybe I'll learn another word."

Clover laughed and lead her deeper into the library. "If not, then I haven't done my job."

AN: Here's something quick and fun to help ease the heaviness of last chapter. I must admit, the mental image of a young Robin stumbling over uncommon or difficult words is both adorable and hilarious.

Much of my inspiration for this comes from real life, where I am one of those lucky souls whose pronunciation/enunciation is not as strong as their vocabulary. Robin's lucky I didn't fit "hors d'oeuvre" or "segue" in the conversation somehow. What can I say, English is weird.

As always, thanks for reading.