[είκοσι δύο]

[winewomenand]

[ it's early in the day-- so early that Robin Goodfellow is still at work at Hinode Dojo. And while he usually isn't a particularly easy instructor, he also usually displays some level of enjoyment in his work and compassion toward patrons. He is all business today, and then again not business at all. The young man he's working with quickly finds his back meeting the floor with a punishing elbow below his chin. He mumbles some complaint unintelligible on the audio. Goodfellow's response is clear is enough. ]

I am not your wetnurse, child. Walk it off. You payed for an hour. It's now up.

[ seemingly noticing that he;s being recorded, he stalks over and shuts the device off with a smile that is a mockery of his usual confident smirk, too saccharine sweet and decayed, all wormy soft apples and rotted forest detritus. The video flickers off, but his voice remains for a moment longer. ]

Promise. A message. We need to have a talk about something, when you get your three-times-a-leech bones out of your bed. I always hate doing business with your kind. Your restrictive hours bug.

Tonight.

[ooc: A Road Not Taken. Had Robin not, as he did for whatever reason, taken that proverbial left turn after Hob spawned him. Hobgoblin!Robin. Up a little earlier than normal for a castmate headed out tonight.]