Robin's Apartment.
"You jerk!"
"You jerk."
"You jerrrrk~"
The same phrase, but with each passing second, the tone shifted—like some kind of time-warped magic trick. That's the power of the years, huh?
"So, you're not mad anymore, right?" Adam said with a grin. "Can you put the gun away now?"
"Hmph."
Robin let out a noncommittal huff. Still, she struggled to her feet and stashed the oversized handgun from her nightstand into the safe.
"We good now?" Adam asked, flashing a cheeky smile.
"In your dreams," Robin shot back, rolling her eyes.
"So, what's the plan then?" Adam chuckled.
"Haven't figured it out yet," she said, shaking her head.
"How about I get you a gift? Something you'll love?" Adam said, slipping on sunglasses and a chunky gold chain. He popped a cigar in his mouth, his smirk tilting up a smooth 60 degrees.
"What do you take me for?" Robin scoffed. "If I could actually take you in a fight, you think I wouldn't have shot you by now?"
Oof.
Her logic was airtight.
"You're overthinking it," Adam said quickly, switching to damage control. "Last night wasn't on purpose, I swear. Hand on heart—I've got nothing but respect for you."
"…"
Robin slapped his "swearing" hand away, done with talking. This guy's tricks were endless—she couldn't keep up.
Adam caught her reaction and smirked.
After last night's wild clash, he'd still had the confidence to promise Lily he could smooth things over with an apology. That wasn't just hot air.
Sure, his apology was dripping with sincerity, but it was more than that. With his god-mode perspective, Adam probably knew Robin better than she knew herself.
Classic TV drama vibes: Childhood shapes everything. A happy one heals you forever; a rough one leaves you patching yourself up for life.
Robin Scherbatsky—or, if we're going ancient East Country style, Robin "Victory Man" Scherbatsky. Yup. Her dad had wanted a son. Too bad he got a daughter instead.
But no biggie! Raise her right from the start, and a girl can be just as tough as any guy.
"Baseball pro" Penny's dad would've nodded in approval—total expert move.
So, raised like a boy, Robin's personality and hobbies skewed hard toward the masculine. Guns, fighting, football—she was all about the rough stuff.
It all stemmed from habits she'd picked up as a kid, chasing her dad's praise. Naturally, that led to a textbook issue: what Barney once called her "super-hot daddy complex."
In Adam's all-seeing view, he'd watched Robin—decked out in a suit, puffing a cigar—open up about her past. Her cigar skills? Honed to impress her cigar-loving dad, hoping for some bonding time.
But hanging out in guy-world too long nearly turned her into something else entirely. She and Penny shared the same "problem": a little training, and their pecs outshone everyone at the gym, leaving the boys jealous and bowing down.
Later, as pop star "Robin Sparkles," she left the country for the U.S. and carved out a totally different path.
Deep down, Robin wasn't that hung up on last night. What really ticked her off was getting the short end of the stick in her showdown with Alice.
For someone as competitive as her, that was unbearable. And since Adam was the root cause, she'd redirected all that fury his way.
"So, who's that bitch?" Robin snapped, Adam's grin dredging up old grudges.
"Why do you wanna know?" Adam dodged with a laugh. "What, you planning to fight her?"
"Obviously," Robin said with a cold smirk. "I've never taken a hit this bad my whole life—especially not from another woman!"
Tsk!
Talk about some serious shade toward her fellow ladies.
"Heh," Adam chuckled, staying quiet.
No way. Last night was a fluke. Spill the beans now, and if it blew up at the hospital, it'd be a mess he didn't need.
"So, you're on her side?" Robin asked. She might've been all bold and brassy, but she was still a woman—instinctively pulling the "pick a team" card like a pro.
"Of course not," Adam said, shaking his head with a smile. "You know me—I'm always in the middle."
No matter how she pressed, Adam wouldn't budge.
Kidding? With his iron will, there was no way he'd sell out Alice.
"&%￥3@…"
Oh, and here's a quick shoutout: patreon:belamy20.
Robin sneered and unleashed her trump card—an ultimatum over an encrypted channel.
"…You focus on healing up. I'll see what I can do later," Adam said, all noble and upright.
"Hah!" Robin let out a scornful snort.
Adam acted like he didn't hear it.
"Oh, by the way—you and Lily are tight, right?" he asked with a grin.
"Yeah," Robin nodded. "I don't have many friends around here. Lily's the newest, but she's the warmest. She's given me a kind of friendship I've never felt before. I guess that's what a bestie is, huh?"
"Heh," Adam laughed softly.
Robin "Victory Man" had only known brotherhood growing up—besties were a foreign concept. She thought Lily's enthusiasm was just pure gal-pal vibes.
Hmm.
Okay, fair enough. Adam wasn't a woman, so he couldn't exactly judge what "bestie vibes" were. Maybe he didn't have the right to laugh.
He remembered those sappy posts from his past life's social feeds: "All you need is one good bestie—shopping, eating, chatting. Who cares about a husband?" Probably written for someone like Robin.
"How're she and Matthew doing lately?" Adam asked casually.
"Huh?" Robin gave him a weird look. "Aren't you the one closest to them? Why're you asking me?"
"Ugh," Adam sighed dramatically. "Us doctors are too busy. Even with my best buds, I barely get time to catch up. Just taking the chance to get the scoop."
"…"
Robin was floored by his shamelessness again, feeling deeply offended.
What did he take her for? Some all-purpose errand girl?
"Quit it," Adam said, effortlessly catching the kick she launched at him.
If he were Juno, the mind-reader, he might've heard her inner rant and fired back, "What, I'm not a tool to you?"
Mutual tool status.
If she weren't so useless—barely taking up 10% of his CPU—he wouldn't bother unlocking new features out of boredom.
Ring ring!
His phone went off.
"Be right there," Adam said into it, then started throwing on his jacket and heading out.
"Hospital stuff."
"Drive slow," Robin called.
"Don't worry."
"…When're you coming back?"
"When you're healed up. I'll call. Just don't crash into anything again."
Her reply? A high heel, hurled at Mach speed.
Bang!
Adam shut the bedroom door just in time, hearing the shoe slam into it. He smirked.
Living Room.
Robin's five big dogs—gifts from five ex-boyfriends—were huddled on the couch, looking pitiful. When Adam glanced their way, they ducked their heads even lower.
They were dying over there.
Normally, when they needed to pee, they'd nudge the bedroom door open, jump on the bed, and lick their owner's face to wake her up for a bathroom break.
But with this scary guy around? No chance—they didn't dare get close.
And their owner had strict rules: no peeing or pooping inside.
It was a doggone nightmare.
The newest pup, Number Five, was extra miserable.
The OG dog, a gift from Ex Number N, let out a mournful woof in dog-speak: "Don't be sad. Every time, she starts out all lovey-dovey, but then those guys turn into dead men in her eyes and get kicked to the curb."
Dog Two, from Ex N+1, chimed in: "Can confirm. The guy who got me? Same deal."
Dogs Three and Four, from Exes N+2 and N+3: "Us too."
Number Five blinked, thinking back to the dude who'd bought him—leaving the apartment with a "what even is life" look on his face. Suddenly, he perked up and barked happily.
(End of Chapter)