Touch is the first of his sensations to return, his mind slow to register the gentle breeze brushing along his heated skin. The cool air is at odds with the dull burning of his abdomen, and he feels an odd pressure there that is rather uncomfortable. He sucks in a breath and tries to move away, but his body's refusal to answer him halts his attempt, and he can feel what he thinks is a hand latch onto his shoulder to keep him still. Confused as to who or what has a hold of him, he forces his eyes open.

It comes back to him in pieces: the plan, the ambush, and the failed escape. He is only able to make out the details of Robyn's face hovering above him, his distorted vision making it impossible for him to see anything of their surroundings beyond a swirl of muted colors.

She glares down at him with furrowed brows and narrowed eyes, a slight tremble in her lips, her expression an intense mixture of pity and anger. The hand grabbing him belongs to her, and upon seeing him awake, she lets go to reposition it. Qrow follows the movement of her hand to find her pressing a cloth against the shredded flesh on his side. For as much as she tries, her efforts do nothing to slow the bleeding.

When she shifts to apply more pressure, Qrow realizes that his chest and abdomen are numb. A small blessing; it means he can't feel the pain it would otherwise cause.

Her mutterings alternate between comforting words and harsh insults, all of which are well deserved. It hadn't been a good idea, and now he is paying the price for it.

With the blood loss making his head swim, his thoughts are a muddled mess, causing him to struggle to latch on to any particular one. It is the increasing intensity of Robyn's upset ramblings that help him start to focus, the question of whether or not he should tell her that everything will be fine once he wakes up piecing itself together in his mind. It isn't like she'll remember this. He will, of course, but that just means he can avoid making the same mistake and spare her from watching him die again.

Hand shaking from his waning strength, he struggles to place it atop Robyn's. Her gaze snaps up to his face.

"S'okay," he says, words slurred.

"How can you—" She cuts herself off with a hiss. "You're not dying here. I won't let you."

In spite of her attempts to keep a brave face, she knows she can't save him, her eyes shining from tears she refuses to let fall. That knowledge won't stop her from trying, bitter determination fueling her.

He doesn't have the heart to tell her to give up. "...Okay."

~0~

The dawn of a new day finds Robyn spending yet another long morning patrolling the wall around Mantle. Most days she would take up guarding the broken portion, but as of late, there have been more Huntsman volunteering to take positions there. Loath as she is to admit it, having backup from Atlas makes things much easier. Today she knows at least a couple of them are on guard duty, and Joanna offered to oversee things, so she is comfortable enough to be across the city walking along the top of the wall.

Even with the additional help, the hole is still far too much of a security risk to be left as is. If only those pompous assholes up top would help get materials to fix the damn thing, this could all be resolved. As much as she and her team have tried, nothing they've managed to get their hands on to patch it has lasted long, which comes as no surprise considering all the supplies of decent quality are being shipped off to Amity. She doesn't know what reason they could have to keep diverting shipments away from Mantle, but it better be a damn good one considering the lives on the line.

She surveys the tundra with a frown. The elections are still quite a bit away, but it's been on her mind almost non-stop since she decided to enter the race. Winning is the only legitimate way to get the council to hear the people's concerns, though she has her doubts with how they have left Mantle to rot. The last thing she wants is to jeopardize her chances, but they need those supplies sooner rather than later, and with the growing number of Grimm and the increasing size of the hole in the wall, she may just have to resort to stealing what they need.

She hopes it doesn't come to that.

Shaking her head, she turns away to resume her walk, only to stop. She has company in the form of a lanky man, standing with his shoulders slumped and his hands shoved into the pockets. With the weapon on his back, he is clearly a Huntsman. As far as she knows, she is the only one meant to be patrolling this section of the wall, which makes her curious as to what the man is doing.

Plastering a smile on her face, she approaches him, but falters when he turns to look at her. Those intense red eyes are familiar to her, a spark of recognition seizing her at the sight of them, as if she knows this man. It reminds her of reuniting with an old friend, and she is further confused when a specific name pops into her mind.

"You're Qrow Branwen," she says.

Her words cause him to jolt upwards, his entire body tensing, clearly unnerved by the fact she recognizes him. The reaction lasts only a moment as he schools his expression into something more neutral, trying to appear unfazed. He regards her for a moment and then raises an eyebrow at her.

Once she shakes herself out of her stupor, she holds her hand out towards him. "I'm—"

Before she can finish, he says, "Robyn Hill."

Why is he surprised that she knows him if he knows who she is?

"Oh, you've heard of me?"

He shrugs. "I hear a lot of things."

It's her turn to raise an eyebrow.

"You're an important figure in Mantle," he points out. "Hard not to know."

That is true. She'll grant him that. "So, what are you doing down here?"

"What's it look like?"

"Patrolling the wall," she says. "I just want to know why."

"Needed to."

From the sound of his voice, she is fairly certain that it isn't a complete lie, but why is he choosing to be vague rather than give her an actual explanation? Considering his initial lack of surprise at seeing her, it almost seems like he came here specifically to meet with her. Does he just want to get to know her, or is there another reason for this? If he wants to talk, would he not just say so? With how unnerved he was at hearing her say his name, she is a bit on edge, even if she doesn't sense any malice from him.

"Not the first time I've been down here," he says.

"Really? You've been helping out around the wall, then?"

Rather than answer her directly, he grunts.

"Thank you." Though she might find him a bit suspicious, she isn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. "Even with the new help, we don't have a lot of hands to go around, so it's appreciated."

"Just doing my job," he replies.

"Uh-huh." She folds her arms. "Well, if you don't mind, we could patrol together, since we're both here."

He grunts again.

Not a talkative one, huh?

Still, he doesn't protest when she falls in step beside him, which she takes as permission. Either that, or he just doesn't want to bother arguing with her. A win for her regardless.

As they walk, she can't help but note his haggard appearance. Prominent dark circles underline his eyes, the skin so bruised that he looks like he has two black eyes. The poor man seems to have missed out on an entire month of sleep. How can he even walk straight?

"No offense, but when was the last time you slept?"

With a straight face and even voice, he says, "Four years, three months, and fifteen days."

It would be a lie to say she expected him to be the sarcastic type. Huffing, she glares at him. "Alright, beanpole. You could just tell me to mind my own business."

Robyn watches his brow furrow, his lips moving as he mouths the word beanpole to himself. It's difficult to tell if his expression is confusion or annoyance, though she thinks it may be both. He then rolls his eyes and quickens his pace. Insulting him hadn't been her intention, but he must find it to be if he is this unhappy about it. Even if it isn't something she would normally apologize for, she figures she might as well. Staying on his good side would help with getting to know more about him. With that in mind, she follows after him.

Just when she is within arm's reach of Qrow, her foot slides out from underneath her. Her attempt at catching herself goes awry, her other foot slipping on the ice as well, and soon she is pivoting backwards. Though she throws her arms out to steady herself, it does nothing to help, and her path downwards continues.

Before she can hit the ground, a hand latches onto her wrist and drags her up, the swift motion so unexpected that it leaves her dizzy. She blinks, trying to make the world right itself, and looks to see that Qrow has returned to catch her.

"Sorry," he says.

Apologizing for someone else losing their footing is a bit odd. "For what? I should've watched where I was walking."

He shakes his head slightly. "Misfortune Semblance."

"...Ah." That sounds rather familiar, as if she has heard it before. Why or how she can't quite say. "Unless you somehow chose that, it still isn't your fault."

He wrinkles his nose at that and looks away, his lips turned downward in a sharp frown. Just how often does it come up in conversation for him to have such an aversion to it?

"Not the first time you've heard that, huh?"

His eye twitches.

"Alright," she says, holding up her hands. "Don't bite my head off."

It seems like he's going to snap at her, but before he can, he is interrupted by the sound of snarls. Annoyed, he steps up to the side of the wall, and Robyn joins him to peer down at the ground below. There, prowling around the base of the wall, is a sizable group of Sabyrs. The pack is heading in the opposite direction she was, which means they are making their way towards the broken section.

"Fucking Grimm," Qrow mutters.

Grabbing hold of the railing, he draws his weapon, unfurling it into a scythe, and vaults over the side. He slams into one of the Sabyrs and hooks the blade under its neck to decapitate it. Robyn can't help but whistle. The man certainly wastes no time jumping into action. By the time she leaps down after him, he's already taken out two more.

It feels natural to fall into step with him, so much so that it leaves her feeling a bit unsettled. She does her best to ignore it, but it's rather difficult when she is keenly aware of how wrong it is. A stranger who clearly knows more than he is letting on and skirts around the truth is not someone she should feel so comfortable with. And yet, she does. Why? How can she feel like she knows a man who she only just met for the first time ten minutes ago?

At least watching him cut apart Grimm with his scythe is satisfying.

Before long, the entire pack is dealt with. With an over-exaggerated fake yawn, Robyn stretches her arms above her head, earning a side-eye from Qrow. Apparently, he is well aware of her antics.

"What do you say to joining me for lunch once we finish our patrol?" she asks with a smile. "My treat for helping me today."

"Didn't do anything," he mutters.

"Aw, come on. You telling me you don't enjoy my company?"

He fixes her with an odd look, one that makes it hard for her to tell whether or not he does.

"Besides," she continues, "I want to talk more. You seem pretty interesting."

He scoffs at that, once again rolling his eyes. "Interesting. Right." He sighs. "Not gonna stay long, though."

Her smile widens a bit. "Long enough to meet my teammates, at least?"

This time he full on scowls, but he says nothing in response. She hopes that means he will.

The rest of their patrol goes without incident, proving to be a rather calm walk, which she is tempted to point out to him. Ultimately, she decides not to. Better to stay on his good side and not bring up a sensitive subject than to purposefully irritate him. She needs him to be willing to talk to her if she wants to get answers, after all. Instead, she makes small talk as they trade off with the next Huntsman and head toward the restaurant, though it more or less ends up being her talking at him rather than with him. To his credit, he does listen to her rambling. At least she thinks he is, as he does react to what she says, as subtle as his expressions are.

Of course, she may just be imagining it.

The place she takes him to is a modest little building, and at this time of day, there are only a few patrons inside. Perfect for a nice, calm discussion. She leads him to a booth in the far corner, well away from the other patrons. Once they settle in their seats and order their food, Robyn mulls over the best way to approach this. Waiting until they have both eaten would probably be better than starting the conversation beforehand, which would give him a bit more time to feel more comfortable around her. Where to start with her questions, though? Maybe something more simple—

"What do you want to know?"

To her embarrassment, she does jump. "What?"

He doesn't respond, simply quirking his brow at her.

Robyn clears her throat and straightens. "You'll answer my questions?"

"Depends on what you ask."

Understandable. He does seem to be the cagey type.

"You said you needed to patrol the wall, but I had that area covered. Which means you were waiting for me. Why?"

There is a moment of hesitation before he says, "Wanted to see what you were like."

Not the best at lying, she notes with a quiet laugh.

"You're not from Mantle, and I have a feeling you're not from Atlas either. What are you doing here?"

"Work."

"What kind of work?"

He is silent. She lets out a soft sigh. Should have seen that coming. Either he doesn't want to tell her, or he can't. While both could be true, the latter seems more likely, which means it must be confidential. And that means military work.

"So you work for Ironwood."

"Not for. With." Then, much quieter, he mutters, "Not like I would follow his orders even if he was my boss."

"Do you not like him?"

He shrugs. "Sometimes I do. When he's not being an ass."

Their conversation lulls with the arrival of their food, and Robyn thanks the waiter before digging in. Qrow, on the other hand, glares down at his plate with all the hatred he can muster.

Strange doesn't begin to describe this man.

Eventually he does take a bite, but Robyn can tell that he has to force himself to swallow. Even though he ordered a rather small portion of food, he only manages to eat a third of it before he gives up, resigned to poking at the mound of mashed potatoes with his spoon. It makes Robyn feel guilty for some reason, and she considers stopping as well until he gives her a look and motions for her to keep going. She does, even though her appetite has waned.

Once she takes her last bite, she leans back. "You said something about Ironwood being an ass?"

"James..." Qrow stops and shakes his head. "Ironwood's problem is that he thinks everything has to go his way. He gets so focused on his goal he blinds himself to its faults, no matter how glaring an issue his ideas have. And if someone doesn't agree with him? Well, that obviously means they're in the wrong, even if they're trying to help. Even if he knows they're right."

Listening to Qrow rant, Robyn can't help but be a bit surprised. All their interactions up until now had her expecting another short response, but here he is, rambling. It is interesting, though, because it means that Qrow is rather close to Ironwood.

"You know him pretty well."

"I've spent more time with him than I'd like."

"I take it the two of you aren't friends then," Robyn says with a slight laugh.

The smile falls from her face when she sees the way Qrow tenses.

"I don't know," he grumbles. "Sometimes it's hard to tell if he's happy I'm around or if he wants to snap my neck."

"That bad, huh?"

"You'd be surprised by how many times we've been at each other's throats." Doing his best impression of Ironwood, he says, "If you were one of my men, I'd have you shot."

She isn't sure if she finds that appalling or absurdly hilarious. "He really said that to you?"

"Yeah. Though I did goad Winter into a fight and smash up the Beacon courtyard, so it wasn't entirely undeserved."

That is even more absurd. "You got into a fight with Winter Schnee?"

"Sure did. Used to be real easy to rile her up, but..." He pauses, a deep sadness surfacing in his eyes. "Well, let's just say she's cooled down a bit since the last time I saw her."

Unsure of what to say to that, Robyn instead forces a small smile. "Pun intended?"

Judging from the unamused look on his face, she would say no.

He lets out a tired sigh and slumps in his seat. "Anything else you want to know?"

There is one thing. Her mind drifts back to that strange sense of familiarity. Despite her trepidation, she has to admit to herself that he feels like a dear friend, someone she can trust to listen to her, trust to lend a shoulder for her to lean on when needed. Does Qrow feel the same, or is she imagining it? Can it merely be her imagination when it feels so real? And for Qrow to be willing to offer any information to her, he would have to trust her at least somewhat, wouldn't he?

Leaning forward, she rests her head against her hand. "To be honest, it feels like I know you, even though this is the first time we've met. I'm not even sure how I knew your name. I just did." She trails her finger along the table. "So what I want to ask is... do we know each other?"

The shift in his expression is minute, eyes narrowing and lips pressing together with just enough pressure to be noticeable. Though he moves with hesitation, he holds his hand out to her and waits. She is unsure as well, but she does take his hand in hers, her aura flaring around them.

"We've met before," he says.

A soft green glow spreads through her aura. With a sharp inhale, she pulls her hand away, staring down at her palm in confusion. Surely she would remember meeting a man like Qrow, wouldn't she? Her semblance is never wrong; he is absolutely telling the truth. The fact she knew his name without him telling her is further evidence. But it just doesn't make sense.

"How?"

"It's... it's a long, shitty story," he says, voice near a whisper, "and I really don't want to talk about it. I'm sorry."

Before she can think of what to say, she hears a voice call out her name, and she raises her head to see the rest of the Happy Huntresses enter the building. The unease must be clear on her face because all three of her friends are on alert the moment they approach the table. Her eyes flick to Qrow, but he is staring down at his plate with his jaw set.

"Everything alright?" Fiona asks softly.

Not wanting them to direct any ire towards Qrow, Robyn does her best to smile. "Everything's fine. I was just letting my new friend here get some things off his chest."

Joanna folds her arms, eyeing Qrow with suspicion. "And he's...?"

"Girls, meet Qrow. He's been helping around the wall. I thought I'd treat him to lunch as thanks."

The poor man looks like he wants to crawl out of his own skin and run, but he remains seated, murmuring a quiet greeting to the new arrivals. In hindsight, he probably already knows them, just like he knows her. Part of her wants to laugh at just how ridiculous this all is. Under different circumstances, she probably would, but knowing it's true leaves her with a heavy weight in her stomach. Still, she keeps a smile plastered on her face as her friends take their seats.

To her surprise, Qrow stays the entire time, even as they launch into a somewhat loud conversation about how their respective days have gone. There are quite a few details that Robyn omits when her turn comes, earning a grateful glance from her not-so-new friend. Hearing about the patrol leads Fiona to try, in vain, to talk to Qrow. When he offers nothing more than single syllable responses, she gives up. It does lead to May glaring at him, which forces Robyn to drag her attention away. A quick change in topic does the trick, and soon a new conversation starts. Qrow remains sullen throughout most of it, only cracking a brief, fleeting smile when Joanna mutters an insult towards Ironwood.

They sit and talk long after they finish their meals, engrossed in their conversation. It isn't until Fiona points out the arrival of more customers that they decide to take their leave.

As soon as they step outside, Qrow drags her off to the side. His grip on her shoulder is as firm as his expression.

"Don't steal anything," he whispers, his tone harsh, and she can only blink at him. "It'll make things worse for everyone if you do."

To say she is taken aback is an understatement. How did he know she was considering it, and why would he warn against it? How can he be so certain? Then again, she shouldn't be surprised, considering everything else that has happened today. Still, Mantle's wall needs to be fixed soon, and so far the only way she can think of to accomplish that is theft.

There's something else there. Something he isn't telling her. She can see it in his eyes. No use in asking, though, when she knows he won't answer her.

But if he is so adamant about it...

"I won't," she says.

"Gonna hold you to that." He lets go of her, his gaze softening. "I'll make sure something gets done about it. I swear."

She isn't sure how he could, even if he does have connections with Ironwood, but if all of this can be solved peacefully, she'll go along with him.

"Alright. I trust you."

He nods and steps away.

There is a sinking feeling in her stomach as she watches him walk off, dread coiling in her gut at the sight of his back turned to her. Whatever it is that Qrow has planned, Robyn hopes he takes care of himself. Taking a breath to steady herself, she rejoins her team.

"What was that about?" Joanna asks.

"He just wanted a quick word with me," Robyn says.

Placing her hands on her hips, May glares at Qrow's retreating form. "You sure about him? He seemed a bit shifty to me. I mean, he wouldn't look any of us in the eye."

In truth, she doesn't quite know how she feels about Qrow. This entire day has left her unsure and confused. The only thing she can do is trust her instincts. She finds herself staring at her palm once more, tracing the lines with her thumb. Qrow hadn't been entirely honest with her. She knows that. Still, he let her use her Semblance on him, and he had been the one to initiate it. Above all else, he cares about Mantle, and that is the one thing that she is certain of. That matters to her more than anything else.

"We can trust him," she says, and she means it.