I can't let myself regret such selfishness.
Danny Smalls wrote an entry to people he knows. He said he was leaving, and he is. He's walking out the front doors of the Kashtta without anything but the wallet in his pocket. There's something to be said about having nothing, no possessions, no anything. It's freeing, isn't it? Nothing tying him down. Nothing to care about. He's not planning on
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He notices that little Ah. It nearly succinctly describes how he felt about the conversation. It'd felt like the end of any chance that they could be in one another's life, which is what they'd talked about after the hotel came down. "Yes, I would say that we did. Plus, I've no idea where either of you would be without my coffee and superior assistant skills. I've no idea how you managed up to this point."
It's a mystery.
"I'd be inclined to agree," Robin says, leaning his head against her forehead for a moment and pulling back again.
It's her eyes widening that he notices first. He opens his mouth to ask what's wrong, but he notices the squirrel there. Oh, right. She's a shapeshifter now, and margays love squirrels.
It's not that he has no faith in her abilities. It's that he's very realistic about what a new shapeshifter can handle.
Robin pulls back so he's not constricting her in any way when the transformation happens, and then she's a margay...hunting a tiny, fluffy squirrel.
BRB, boyfriend's going to laugh hysterically.
He has his mouth covered with his hand, not that it really stifles the sound.
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She didn't miss his coffee nearly as much as she missed him, so it's not all that hard to joke about it.
Or try to.
She still has not caught up on all the sleep she needs to catch up on, most likely. It was a miracle she was even eating a blueberry muffin to begin with. There are two British voices in her head that would strongly disapprove if she did otherwise, perhaps.
Which doesn't matter anyway because she is now a cat and cats must chase squirrels when they see them. Run, squirrel, run.
Rachel hears that laughter, Robin. She spits in the face of it. She believes it is unnecessary and truly unsympathetic to her plight.
She'll end up flopped on a tree, having chased the squirrel up there. She will not come down because a laughing boyfriend does not deserve company any further.
She has disowned you, Robin. Disowned you.
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He looks up at her as she sits in that tree.
A slow, smile spreads across his face until he realizes that she doesn't appear to be coming down.
"Oh, come on," he says, waving a hand up at her as if she has somehow forgotten where he's sitting.
And now he looks like the crazy person talking to the cat in the tree. What is up with him and animals lately?
Or for that matter throughout the past year?
"You have to admit that it was... a bit on the hilarious side. I can apologize? I'm sorry for laughing at you. It was incredibly wrong."
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She is Rachel and she obviously expects more decorum and compassion from your person only not really.
He waves a hand up at her and the cat actually glares.
Eyes narrowed and head tilted back, one can actually see it--it's just not as serious on a cat as it would be on Rachel. It's a bit on the hilarious side, as Robin is stating, and Rachel is loathe to admit it.
It takes her awhile to decide if the apology is truly worth believing. These are not silly matters. Not to the cat. Feelings have been wounded. It'll take a lot of scritches to get over this.
The squirrel has run away--because someone is terrified of the tiny tigercat--and Rachel climbs down from the tree with surprising agility and ease.
Robin's shoes look nice. Rachel swipes her paw at them.
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He can't help but grin when she glares at him.
If she were not a cat, he'd likely stop his laughter immediately. Maybe.
Then again, if she were not a cat, there would be nothing to be so amused about.
He is trying desperately to keep the smile from his face so she'll actually come down. Cats are stubborn as it is. Rachel as a cat has to be twice as stubborn as an ordinary one.
Luckily, Robin is patient. He isn't always patient, but he is older. At one point, he will kill the narration for continuously bringing it up.
When she swipes her adorable paw against his shoe, he reaches down to pet her behind the ears, running his fingers along her back. And then he smiles playfully at her.
"I really am sorry," he says again, hiding the pain that comes with that lie.
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That is not what ultimately detracts her from the glaring. It's the petting. Robin, that is not how Rachel wants to be scritched and that is not where she wants to be scritched. It is not a poor attempt, however.
She can live with this petting, and perhaps coach him into improving. Everyone simply needs a little nudge.
Rachel shifts further to his side, leaning her head further into his hand, urging him to continue, if he'd please. She flops on his feet, purring contentedly.
She just knows that she needs to be scritched and someone needs to do something about that right now.
Once she has tired from the scritching--cats are temperamental and it's a cat's prerogative to change their mind, okay?--she will prowl back to where they were sitting.
Rachel will sit next to her clothes in a dignified manner, as if saying to him, I am now ready to be taken somewhere more private so that I may shift appropriately back into myself with no pesky onlookers.
She would prefer if such arrangements were made quickly.
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Personally, Robin feels that he is an expert petter.
In fact, no one can pet as well as he can. He knows exactly where to pet to make someone purr.
AND OKAY, the narration is getting uncomfortable.
He is completely aware of what that expression means when she sits next to her clothes in that way. She will lose her dignity a bit, when he reaches over to pick her up in his arms, along with her clothes and whatever else she'd been carrying.
"Rather demanding, aren't you?"
There's a half second where he thinks that he'll take her to the Conrad. It's closer.
And then he remembers.
"I'm going to have to smuggle you within my suit unless you want to be a cat until we return to the apartment."
Not many places are alright with a feline being taken inside.
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If it helps, when not in cat form, she has absolutely no complaints.
The narration is also getting uncomfortable, and will say nothing further about the subject.
She does not appreciate being picked up in that manner. She will have a thing or two to say about it. Demanding, yes she is demanding. She sees nothing wrong with being demanding.
She should be the princess of any household. She should be petted and scritched whenever she wants either. Everyone should drop what they are doing if she seeks attention. Clearly. The expression on her face should convey that, as should the fact Rachel's paw swipes at his hand again.
You can simultaneously walk and scritch her, Robin. That will be all.
Rachel rubs her face against his neck before losing herself within his suit.
It matters not where they go, so as long as she can change and go back to her ordinary self.
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It's why it is so beautiful, because he is the original.
He has no idea that she's so displeased with the manner of how he picks her up. Even the paw to the hand doesn't tell him very much. For all he knows, she could want something else that he's unaware of.
No matter. He's found a restaurant that likely has a bathroom. Robin sneaks in through the door. It should be noted that he's never been known for his ability to be stealthy. It's with great luck that he manages to not be seen by the hostess and slip over to the side.
Here comes the problem, however. There is a girls bathroom and a men's bathroom. Robin is a man carrying a female in the shape of a cat. After a long moment of indecision, he lets out a sigh.
"The things I do for you," Robin says to the lump in his suit that is Rachel. He grabs a sign that says 'This Bathroom Closed for Cleaning' and then.
And then he kicks the door open to a chorus of screams.
"Ladies, I apologize for the intrusion. However, I'm with the British FBI." It's not called the FBI of course, but it's the best way to speak to people who likely no better. "We've been given a tip that there may be an infestation of severe mold in this the bathroom, potentially related to terrorist activities. The mold will not harm you. It's in a low dose that may take away your ability to speak for an hour or so, but at any rate, I'm going to have to ask you to evacuate as quickly as you can, right through the door."
The entire story is absolutely ridiculous, but Robin has learned exactly why he can get away with saying the most ridiculous things and people actually believing it.
The women all move to leave. His head feels a bit like it's going to explode, but he's become fairly adept at managing pain over the years. Especially the pain that comes with lying.
"Thank you very much for your cooperation. The Bureau appreciates it. Please, don't breathe a word of this to anyone, of course. Very top secret."
When they've all evacuated, he makes a rather drawn out pained noise (a lot of lying), pulls her out from his suit, and sets her in a stall with her clothing. "We'd better hurry. They're very likely running back to their tables to tell everyone they know as we speak."
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She is thankfully very good about not making a noise, even if she wants to let out a mewl to convey her WTF about all of this. She is later going to laugh about it and then she is going to...be very interested in the visual of Robin as a spy in a 007 James Bond sort of way.
Look, Rachel's not above roleplay, okay? And it's hot.
Obviously, she has other things on her mind right now, like the fact she got smuggled into a bathroom like she's some sort of artifact to be sold in the black market.
Not that it's his fault that she shifted in the first place and demanded privacy.
Rachel is very grateful for the things you do for her Robin.
Even right now, when it means lying your ass off and she hates the concept of lying.
There is no way he could get away with telling the truth. The moment he sets her down she remembers her training with Jack and remembers what she's supposed to envision and focus on.
It's actually more exhausting than it looks, but she tries as quickly as possible. It takes a few minutes, if only because she's still getting the hang of it and it's not easy when there's so little control at first.
"It's not like I chose this or have any control over it," Rachel says from her spot in the stall. She's working on her pencil skirt right now and zipping up her boots.
Her explanation takes a backseat to something else, because she heard that noise and immediately feels terrible.
When she opens the door to the stall she's still trying to pull her shirt back down in her haste and it's stuck on her head.
"Are you okay?"
She is sorry he had to lie so much to get everyone out of the stall, and she doesn't like lying in principle.
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He smiles a bit at what she says.
"Yes, I know you don't. You're doing a remarkable job getting it under control from what I've seen. Can't really control for unexpected squirrels," Robin says with a bit of a sideways grin. "There's nothing you could have done but give chase."
He is trying very hard not to be amused by that again.
It's... actually a bit sobering if he relates it to his own triggers. It's different but the same too.
A squirrel or the smell of alcohol.
Shift into a cat or kill.
So the intensity and details are very different, but the concept is similar enough. It's enough to keep the amusement from his face for the time being, but he really wishes there was some other way that he could not find cat!Rachel hilarious.
Robin blinks a bit at the question, confused as to why she'd be asking it. He's already forgotten about the pain that lying caused him, and it takes a moment for him to remember.
"Yeah, course," he says with a small smile.
It's only pain in the end, and it's not even the kind that leaves scars. Hardly anything to worry about.
"It was a rather ridiculous story. I know you don't like lying, but you'd be surprised what people will believe, especially when I'm the one spinning the tale. Wear a good suit, be attractive, and... this one's the most important, have a British accent. People apparently think you're something official and know better than them."
It's been a long, long time since he's needed a lie, but it used to come with the job.
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It wouldn't do at all if someone were to walk in on them.
That might be more mortifying than the shift itself, for some reason, if only because they'd likely get thrown out of the restaurant and everyone would know about it and because of how Chicago works, it'd somehow get back to everyone that they know.
No, Rachel's still not bitter about that entry on the journal network about the shifting, why would anyone think that?
"It's easier when I visualize the cues. It doesn't stop the shift itself, but I can shift back quicker than before and with intent," she tells him, finally finding the sleeve hole and putting her shirt on. It's backwards.
Rachel sighs, quickly slipping it off only to turn it back around.
She's honestly never seen the similarities. What Robin has to wrestle with is of such greater magnitude she wouldn't think to put it on the same scale. But there is that similar experience in the sense there's something they can't control.
Also, Robin, the narration also finds cat!Rachel hilarious. She does not blame you the amusement one bit.
He assures her he's alright and Rachel nods, finishing zipping up her boot and then she looks up at him. There's gratitude that for all his amusement, he quickly helped her shift back instead of allowing her the opportunity to do so in public.
It was already humiliating enough at the Kashtta.
"You would have made a very handsome secret agent man, not that you need me telling you this," she tells him teasingly, leaning up on tip toes to kiss him on the lips.
She tugs his hand. "I'm all set and I believe it's best if we never speak of this again, don't you?"
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Yes, the narration just compared him to a dog. Oops.
He may be watching her undress and redress herself. There's a moment where he considers helping her, but he has to make sure no one comes through the door. Plus, it's nice simply to watch her like the creeper that he can be.
She moves a certain way when she's sliding on that shirt and off again.
Robin will simply drink in the sight of her from his position by the wall.
He nods when she explains. "Sounds about right from what I've learned about shape shifters. Is that what Jack taught you?"
Robin tries to be very careful with that name. There is a lot of history with that name, but most of that history is dead or gone.
A slow, wide grin spreads across his face.
"No, I don't, but I appreciate hearing it from you anyway," Robin says, leaning in to kiss her back and then pulling back with a rather cheeky smile. "Did I ever tell you that they wanted me to play James Bond?" There's a slight wince at that lie. Sometimes lies are fun for teasing purposes. "Well, I would have made a better Bond than Connery."
In his opinion, he would have made a better Bond than most of them. Except when it comes to any drinking part that there was.
It's part of why he hasn't actually seen many 007 movies.
Robin follows where she tugs... or he would if she didn't ask that question. He gently twirls her around so that she's on the wall instead of him and smiles at her. "Your secret is safe with me, Ms. Dawes." He slides his hand into hers again, giving it an intimate shake. "The name is Rice. Robin Rice. I'm quite experienced in keeping them, you see. My life is filled with secrets, because that is the life of a spy."
There are very few people that he will be so openly dorky with, though to be honest, he pulls this all off rather well for merely playing pretend. The accent helps. The charming, seductive smile doesn't hurt either. Those acting classes came in handy.
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Rachel wants until she's finally put the shirt back on properly to answer him, looking up at him as she flips her hair out of the collar.
"Basically." She unfurls her fingers, wiggling them at Robin. "He said hands were a good place to start, like focusing on the sensation of putting your hand into a glove."
It takes longer than she'd like for it to work, but she's always have to fight the shifting. "I won't be able to control the actual urge to shift. It's always going to be there when I get startled or stressed or...well, you know."
And he does. There isn't a subject in the world Robin doesn't know at least a little about, and he seemed well-versed in shapeshifting. Enough to know the first week would be the hardest. He was right about that.
Rachel is not entirely sure what to think about Jack yet, but she'll give him this, he knows what he's doing.
She gives him a look once she catches that wince. "Robin, this is the part where I feel compelled to inform you that I have always found Sean Connery a very attractive man."
Okay, so Rachel has a thing about accents, whatever.
She lets out a small noise of surprise at the twirl, leaning back against the wall and looking up at him. It turns into actually laughter when he grabs a hold of her hand, and just as immediately it dies down at that seductive smile of his.
Rachel reminds herself they're in a public restroom, though that does not stop her from tugging him over to her by the tie with her free hand.
"Rice, Robin Rice, it's a pleasure to meet you." Her other hand remains in his, lifting them both up so she can twine her fingers with his. "I suppose with your life of secrets and spying and globe-trotting it would be terribly difficult to sustain a love life."
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A slow smirk pulls across his face when she wiggles her fingers. "It makes sense," he says. "I think that's similar to what I've read before, but that advice goes for getting under control a lot of what is... beyond our control. The visualization."
Not that it has ever helped him much with his own triggers, but she is right when she says that it's at a different level. It's impossible for him to think to visualize when he's in that state.
But she's seen that before. She knows how little of that is himself. It's not an animal that he's fighting to gain control over. It's a monster.
Robin nods. He does know. He has spent the majority of his life reading and learning things, and it's a good thing that he enjoys learning, because every book that he ever picked up was a necessary distraction. If he didn't like reading so much and it wasn't engaging to him to do so, he would have had to find something else.
He is going to simply ignore that look. The lie was worth it and necessary.
"..." He raises an eyebrow at her at this admission. "I feel compelled to tell you that... other than me, you have a rather strange taste in men. It's the accent, isn't it? Because it cannot be the beard."
Robin is perfectly aware of how attractive his accent has made him to many women over the years. It's something that he's used to every advantage, like only minutes earlier with the women in the bathroom.
His hand slides down by her waist. Robin is perfectly aware that they're in a public bathroom, but he's done more in places that were far more public.
"It's incredibly difficult," he admits with a slow smile as he looks her up and down, as if meeting her for the first time. "My job is filled with danger, excitement, adventure, and untrustworthy characters. It's a rough, lonely position, but someone has to fulfill it to... save the world, you see."
Robin brings up their locked hands, pressing a kiss against the back of hers and fixing her with a stare, the kind where it seems like he's having sex with her without actually having any sex at all.
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At Robin's pause in his sentence, Rachel looks over at him. She was in the process of smoothing out her hair which is always a mess after she shifts back. It doesn't do much good, and it doesn't matter anyway. They haven't talked about that day. That hospital night. She's not sure there's any need to, considering they already said all they had to.
But it reminds her of his own lack of control once his trigger is present.
Then again, vengeance angels are told they'll kill no matter what and no matter how much control they have in every other aspect, and that ended up not being true.
She doesn't associate the trigger with Robin. She can't, when she literally knows he has no control over it and that's not who he is whenever there isn't alcohol around. He is the furthest thing away from it, and if it's haunted her dreams, it's only because of how broken he looked, how broken she seemed, how useless it all felt.
It's over now, and it's done with, but sometimes it comes back.
She smiles at him gently, and says, "Everyone is different. There are thousands of suggestions but in the end it's up to the person, and what works for them. I just need patience to find my own way."
Patience doesn't come easily, but she's gotten a lot better at that, and he'll probably have noticed it.
She wrinkles her nose, swatting him on the shoulder. Rachel's taste in men has been something to...talk about in the past, but not when it comes to a celebrity she finds attractive. "He's mature and he's sexy. When I was younger, it was him and Cary Grant for me."
Rachel does not want to know what he has done in far more public places, thank you, Robin.
"I do see. It's a noble venture, I suppose. One has to wonder if it's nobility alone and not the risk that attracts you to the occupation."
Rachel is, for the moment, intent on catching the curve of that slow smile with her mouth, slowly urging his lips to part with the tip of her tongue. Briefly, and then she's backing away.
Or trying to.
Her breath hitches slightly when his hand finds her waist, looking up at him. "Robin..." it's a warning, and her voice trails off when his lips meet the back of her hand. She doesn't tear her gaze away from his.
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