Another frivolous predicament.
Dark Pit watches the tactician stack his books with precision, adjusting them in slight increments as to align the books to seemingly form one. Soon accomplishing said task, Robin steps back in satisfaction. He looks away from the stack, noticing the dark angel staring at him, his head slumped into his arms crossed on the table.
"It's pleasant to see you, but why are you here?" Robin inquires. As the dark angel is already disqualified from the tournament (having lost by a pitiful self-destruct), he has little reason to remain at the lounge.
"What do you mean, 'Why are you here?' I have a good reason," Dark Pit huffs in reply, waiting for the perfect chance to tell the tactician of his woe.
"And that reason is . . .?"
"Because I want to."
Robin sighs, a gentle sigh, and crosses his arms with a smile. "I won't bother pressing you for more information at this point, but it really is nice to see someone around. Almost everyone who gets disqualified from the tournament leaves within a short time and doesn't return." Robin closes his eyes and sighs once more. "Kind of like war."
"You guys from that sword-universe-place are always thinking of war," Dark Pit remarks.
"And as are you, if I'm correct. You hail from a war-tattered dimension as well, don't you?"
Dark Pit lifts his head a bit. "Yeah. I guess wanting to get my mind off of things is part of the reason I came to lounge here. It's not like I'm needed all that much there; and the war's over; anyways." The angel's head falls back into his arms.
"Everyone has their role to play, Dark Pit." Robin grabs the tomes one at a time, placing them in his coat in a strategic manner. "That was kind of an ironic sentence, wasn't it?"
"What do you mean?"
"That name makes it seem like you're simply a cliché dark version of Pit. Which certainly doesn't mean you're granted a meaningful role in your world," Robin elaborates, placing a bronze sword in a hidden sheath.
"But I am just a dark version of that loser." While Dark Pit often claims to be the real Pit, he sees little point in telling himself such lies while the latter isn't present.
"Not at all. You were invited to the tournament for a reason. You and Pit are as Lucina and Marth are. Often thought to be the same, but two very distinct individuals." Robin chuckles. "But I'm certain people won't mistake you for Pit."
"Yeah, I guess. But I still don't get what you mean. I'm not special."
Adjusting the levin sword on his coat, Robin finishes his battle preparations. "It was a nice chat, but I best be going. We can always continue this later if you stick around." Striding across the room, Robin opens the door leading to the portal room. "I hope you figure out what I mean."
Dark Pit watches as the tactician closes the door behind him. Now, I just have to ask him to- realization hits the angel like a train, slamming his face on the table where his arms leave an opening. Dammit!
Author's Note: If anyone is confused, my head-canon Super Smash Brothers lore isn't simply the Smash Mansion. Read this if you would like; it's optional. Here's my explanation:
Master Hand created all the worlds, so he can control how they interact. To keep Crazy Hand tame, they have Smash Tournaments every once in awhile, inviting new people each time. It's fairly fun for them, but it's optional. They have a system which turns pain into damage, so nobody is harmed.
It's a short little tournament, and they do have a place to stay for awhile (which I suppose would be the equivalent of the Smash Mansion?) They can fight for fun on their free time. They aren't forced to stay, and can always just come back when they have to fight. Even after the tournament is over, they can come back to fight for fun or to train.
Rankings in the tournaments determine tiers. Master Hand resizes some of the characters to make it easier. And he manipulates some of their abilities and skills.