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Halfway up the stairs to the fourth floor, Euri realizes her spending time in Robin's room is becoming more and more commonplace. While she isn't exactly wild about that thought (his room still creeps her out), it's actually necessary today. He had told her something about needing to keep his power contained, which she didn't quite get, but if he really is that powerful then she'd prefer being cautious.

Euri stops in front of his door. She isn't all that scared of what Robin's true form is, as long as he doesn't look undead, but what if he decides to back out? What if he put more precautions in place and his room looks like some horrifying necromancer dungeon? Ugh, what if Michael is in there?

She twitches and shakes her head at that last one. Okay, now she's just being ridiculous. (Still, she can't help shooting at glare in the direction of Michael's room.) Whatever happens, she will suck it up and be brave like the awesomely tough bounty hunter that she is and deal with it. Especially if he looks undead! Robin definitely isn't the same as undead monsters, so she's got nothing to worry about. Plus, he has a heartbeat, so any changes would be purely cosmetic.

Who knows, maybe his actual form is incredibly attractive and she can't help but jump him and they have amazing sex right there on the floor....

Euri spends longer than necessary entertaining that thought before she finally comes back to reality and knocks on his door.

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He's sitting in the one chair in his room, bunched up and nervous, gazing absently out his always-open window. A bird outside, a sparrow, sings a little to try and comfort him. Tulio wanders about every once in a while as well, as if keeping an eye on him. He'd appreciate it if he wasn't too busy trying to figure out... what he was doing.

Willingly letting someone into his room? If Michael asked, yes, he'd let him in. Michael understands it and tells him he's beautiful. But Euri--even though she's been in there twice--doesn't get it. She couldn't possibly understand, not without him telling her. It still makes her nervous just being there. And yet, he's about to show her something he's shown to maybe a dozen people in his entire life: the truth.

And he doesn't know how much he'll tell her. Maybe he won't. Maybe she'll be understanding and unafraid just like she said, and he'll be happy to just have a shred of comfort that perhaps he's not as undesirable as he thinks (but that doesn't stop the nagging fear that she'll hate him and be frightened by him and be disgusted that she would have ever wanted to touch such an ugly thing).

The knock on the door echoes louder-than-life in his head as he's pulled back to the present. He stares at the knob for a moment, thinking that... he could pretend he's not there, and they wouldn't have to (but he wants to, which makes that impossible). But he slowly uncurls from his seat, presses his feet to the floor, and calls out.

"It's unlocked."

There's less blood on the walls today. He hates not having it there, but Euri hates seeing it even more, he imagines.

Euri rocks back on her heels, staring at the doorknob before suddenly grabbing it and yanking the door open. She's entering and closing it behind her in one fell swoop, to get it over with, and her gaze immediately focuses on Robin. He doesn't look happy.

"Hey!" And Euri's already frowning, walking over to him. "Are you okay?"

Obviously he's not. What a stupid question. Without giving him time to properly respond she's quickly adding, "If you don't want to do this, you don't have to. That's okay with me! I don't want to force you to do anything you don't want to do...."

That sounds much better, but it still feels like it's missing something. Euri, deliberately focusing on Robin and trying to ignore the room, puts her hands on his shoulders with a determined expression. "But remember, opening up isn't always a bad thing. I think you'll be happier in the long run."

"I'm--" he tries to respond, but to little avail. All he can do is sit there as he slowly looks more and more surprised at all the things coming out of her mouth. What is she even saying--like she's the one making him do this? Not telling him not to worry about it, but--

"You..." Another small start before something clicks; the scene catches up with him and he suddenly starts laughing, uneven as usual. He shoves one of her hands off of his shoulder, but keeps the other in his own for a moment.

"Are you trying to encourage me?" He looks nothing short of pleased, "What the hell, Euri..."

"N - no-! I'm just -"

... Well. Trying to help him, she supposes. But he's not supposed to start laughing at her.

"I'm being serious! I just think it's good for you to open up, that's all!" she replies, pulling her other hand away. She's getting embarrassed - babbling like that was apparently a stupid thing to do. She should have just kept quiet, and now she looks like an idiot. Great. "So don't laugh...."

"Hey, hey, I'm not laughing at you," he assures her, looking a little better even though the worst has yet to come, "I just... Laughing at how nice you're being, I guess." So... all right, maybe he is kind of laughing at her, then. But he never gets that kind of attention--no one tries to tell him that anything is okay.

(Michael is the exception. Michael is always the exception. But that's another thing.)

But he stops his laughing as quickly as he can. Maybe the nerves are making him a little giggly; the good spirit is hard to force down and mixes too well with that uneasy feeling of dread that's lingering in his bones, making him heavy.

"But it's all right. I mean it, I want to show you."

"... Alright...." she murmuring reluctantly, still clearly very suspicious that he's going to start laughing again. But, no, this is definitely supposed to be serious.

She tries to squish the embarrassment down until it's just a tiny, minor thing not even worth thinking about. She spares a glance at his bed. "Should I sit down?"

Really, she has no idea how this is going to work. She just hopes that question wasn't another stupid thing to say.

Not stupid at all. "Yes. I'd prefer it."

Any humor he'd found in the situation doesn't last long. While she sits, he peels off his gloves, laying them carefully down on the table next to him (don't want to ruin a good pair if he can avoid it). After a moment of hesitation, he shrugs his shirt off as well, running on a similar line of logic. But then, he realizes, all of his excuses and reasons to stall are gone.

"...Okay." He tries not to sound nervous. That's the last thing he needs. He pulls a leg up onto the seat, just to give him a little more comfort (something to hold onto, to quell his anxiety), and closes his eyes. Now or never, he thinks. Now... there's really no turning back from it.

His form starts to flicker, like static, as his energy is slowly released from its forced containment. The room is bathed in his magic, the feeling of him, so much so that it acts just as his touch would, but through the very air around him. His shape changes, growing longer, more pointed. His hair changes with the rest of him, white as bleached bone. He keeps his eyes closed, refuses to hear anything, until he has fully changed and there is nothing left to do but open his eyes and let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

His all-red gaze shifts towards Euri, anxious for a reaction.

With a nod Euri turns and moves to the bed. Along the way she spies Tulio and quickly snatches him up, scratching his ears after she settles down. It's not because she's scared, she's simply used to having a fuzzy, warm body in her lap, even though the cat isn't Dog, who is currently de-summoned as it's clear Robin doesn't like him.

She's still scratching his ears absently as she watches Robin, with slightly less ogling this time when he removes his shirt. This isn't too bad, aside from his room. For a moment Euri is wondering if he was overreacting.

Then that flickering starts. At first Euri rubs at an eye, thinking it's her vision, but that feeling filling up the room, giving her goosebumps, causes it to click in her mind. She's holding Tulio a little closer without really noticing, her eyes glued to Robin's changing form. When he's finished she can still feel the goosebumps on her arms, and she's quiet for a few minutes. She can't help it, she needs to process what just happened.

"Your hair...." she says finally, the words dying quickly as she falls silent.

It's pale and colourless and stark and snowy just like her own.

"It's white! It's - not even grey, it's just completely white!" Euri cries suddenly. It's almost unclear whether this is good or bad, but then she grins and pulls Tulio into a tight hug. Then, remembering he's a cat and not a dog and therefore unlikely to appreciate that kind of attention, quickly releases him and stands.

Even though he's already told her his hair is really white she's never been able to see it. Just being informed isn't the same as witnessing with one's own eyes, so Euri looks absolutely delighted as she walks over to Robin. "I love it!"

The silence before is nearly unbearable, and he almost looks away--until her reaction. Her observation, her sudden shout, her confusing excitement over it; all he can do is look up at her with obvious and unfiltered disbelief.

The first thing she notices is his hair? (His beautiful hair...)

"You..." He falters, hesitating, not wanting to show off his pointed teeth if he can. It's too late for that now, though, so he finds what he'd meant to say, "You do?"

His voice is a little different, forced out of a different shape, but his accent is the same. His tone is the same. It is unmistakably Robin in there, even now.

"Of course! And your eyes, too," she's utterly sincere as she replies, smiling down at him. "They remind me of Dog's. They suit you." The most obvious connections are the colour and the lack of pupils, neither of which Euri finds frightening at all.

And the rest of him? He actually reminds Euri of a very humanoid demon. She can see how a human would be terrified... the pointed teeth, the claws, he's like something out of a fairy tale. On top of that humans in Minoa only have a hostile relationship with demons. For humans, demons are something to fear.

But for Witches it's mostly the opposite. While they don't get along with the 'grower' demons, the 'stagnant' ones (the ones Robin reminds her of) are often seen as allies. And virtually all Witches who have a familiar have a demon familiar.

"See?" She's taking his head in her hands, just to keep him still, so that she can lean in and press her lips against his forehead affectionately. "Nothing to worry about."

Something starts in his throat at that kiss, a feeling he isn't familiar with. But it spreads and pools, cool and warm and comforting all over until he's smiling despite himself, feeling just as relieved as when Michael accepted him. It feels like a weight has been lifted off of his chest, as silly as it is to make such a simple simile of it.

"I'm so glad..." he whispers, unable to do much else beyond the lump in his throat. He carefully takes her hand with one of his own and presses his cheek into her palm, unfathomably happy to feel warmth against his real skin. The sound in his throat finally comes up as a purr, low and much like a cat's.

Tulio notices, jumping up into his lap and purring as well. Robin laughs, speaking again, "You really are something, Euri."

This time it's Euri giggling, her free hand moving to pet him on the head. "Me? You're the one who can purr!" She's thoroughly amused at this discovery, tempted to try rubbing behind his ears to see if he'll get louder.

"That's adorable. You're like a big cat." Kind of. He's definitely adorable, at any rate, even if he looks about a million times more fiendish than a cat. "But, anyway, you feel better, right? Now that you've shown me?"

"I am not," he responds, though he looks more amused than anything by the comparison. He rests his hands on the edge of the chair between his legs, letting Tulio rub up against his chest. That's one of the reasons he likes the (former) stray so much; he likes him regardless of whether he's got claws or fingers.

But he supposes he can think of Euri like that too, now. He ducks his head under her petting, too used to it being the other way around.

"Yeah, I think I do. It's weird," he says, just voicing his thoughts, "I don't usually think about it, but now that I don't have to, I guess it's... one less weight."

Euri's other hand is falling back to her side as she continues to pet him. She just can't get over how much better he looks with his hair undyed.

"Good. I'm happy to hear that," she replies, expression softening. Then, with a sudden spark of an idea in her head, she drops her hand down to his claws, taking hold of his hand and tugging him towards the bed. It'll be much easier talking where they can both sit down. "You said there isn't a name for what you are, right?"

His arm is a little longer, so he lets her lift his hand and move almost entirely to the bed before he moves himself. He pushes off of the chair with his legs and stretches for the bed, walking onto it, again, much more like a cat than a person. He sits like a normal person, though, putting his legs in front of him and trying not to slouch in his slightly taller form as much.

"Other people call us things, but they're more descriptions." So, yes. "So yes, we had no name for what I am that we called our own."

She's not bothered by his unusual movements. If anything, he's just reinforcing that cat image he inadvertently created for himself. Once they're sitting, though, she realizes he's now taller, and that poses problems. It'll be uncomfortable trying to touch his hair now.

"Why didn't you create something?" She looks up at him, tilting her head curiously. She hasn't let go of his hand, either. "It... I don't know, it seems strange that you don't have a name for yourselves. Like you don't really exist."

Not to worry, it doesn't take him long to sink down, his spine more easily set at a curve. His free hand comes to rest in front of him again, propping him up. But her words have put a somewhat uncertain look back on his pale face, his lips pressed into a line. There's a bit of a problem with that.

"It doesn't feel right," he says, his eyes fixed forward. He fidgets a little against her hand; it's easy to tell that there's something else he wants to say. He just isn't sure how to go about saying it.

Euri still isn't satisfied. She's watching him, contemplating something while still listening. Doesn't feel right...? And his reactions, his expression, they're making her wonder just how serious this is to him.

"Why?" She asks after a beat, squeezing his hand. With her free one she's reaching up to touch his cheek, to try and make him meet her gaze.

He thinks he can say it. He makes a small noise, a call to his cat, who hops up onto the bed and curls up next to the girl he's been getting so much affection from. Sitting on his bed in his true form makes Robin feel a little more open about things. This is when he's at his "purest", so to speak, open to everything. That's why he writes all over his walls when he's in here. It feels safe to him.

Can Euri be a part of that? He doesn't know. He knows it'll make her sad, but if he told her, she would just shake her head and insist that she'd be fine.

"There were only ever nine of us at a time." That's sure to raise questions, but the rest is sure to turn her quiet again, "But I'm the only one left, now. It feels selfish."

His answer does indeed cause Euri to fall silent. Only nine of them, and he's the only one left.... What happened to the others? Do these nine include that person he mentioned on the roof, Finch? She opens her mouth to ask, but stops herself. Would he even want to answer any of that?

"......"

Euri turns and looks downwards, trying to take the tactful route and trying not to appear outwardly concerned. She's clutching his hand, though.

"Oh...."

And then she's letting go of his hand, grabbing him and yanking him down so his head is in her lap. She's running her fingers through his hair almost immediately. "Well... what do you think they would have thought of having a name?"

The yank is surprising and he tenses, arm bracing him up against the bed to keep himself up. But he realizes what she's doing quickly enough and relaxes with a sigh, letting himself sink down against her. The gesture is familiar, and strangely comforting, but he's not sure if she's doing this for him or for her own sake.

"I don't know." It's strange to think about them out loud to someone else (especially now that he isn't intoxicated), but he can see his clawed hand, pale and spider-like, resting right near his chest. It reminds him of them a little more and he curls up against Euri without much further thought.

"Finch would think it's a good idea. They love that sort of thing. They're the ones that gave us all names to begin with."

Euri feels mildly satisfied, now that she can touch him properly. It's like that night on the roof, but his room is warmer and she isn't having any problems seeing him.

"Hmm...."

That answers her question about Finch, and knowing there would have been at least one other of Robin's kind who was accepting of the idea makes her feel a little more confident. With that settled her mind starts running through various terms, fluidly jumping between the two Minoan languages.

"Fylucae," she murmurs, tapping him on the side of the head lightly. "How's that sound?"

His hearing is better in this form. Well, everything is better in this form--but he can pick up on sounds especially well. He repeats the word back to her, almost perfectly, trying to think of how it feels to attach to himself.

"I think I like it. Does it mean anything?"

Names are a big thing to him. That's why he still calls himself Robin even though anyone who would have thought it important was dead and gone.

Euri pats him on the head when he gets it right on the first try, then resumes stroking his hair.

"Mm, kind of. It's a combination of 'family' and 'volary'." She isn't sure if he'll like that, but it seemed appropriate to her. Only nine of them, two of them named after birds... it seemed reasonable to her.

"I don't know if that's okay with you," she adds, curling bits of his hair around her fingers. "If you've got something more appropriate in mind I can try again."

Family and... it works beautifully.

"There's Robin and Finch," he recites, reaching up to lightly brush his fingers against the underside of her jaw, "Blackbird and Woodpecker, Sparrow and Linnet, Nightingale and Falcon... and Crow." He swallows back the ill feeling his name stirs up and tries to focus on the good parts, the parts he likes to remember. "All of my brothers and sisters. It's a perfect name."

He closes his eyes, "The young ones would have loved it if you can put it in a rhyme. Sparrow would say it all wrong, though."