— robert ‘sweetrobin’ arryn
If Robin had been any more himself than he was at the moment, he would’ve been gushing over Loras’ shirt, touching it, wondering about where he got it, who tailored it, and the likes, but he couldn’t even bring himself to reach across the table to feel the fabric. Part of Robin wanted to beat himself up for not even attempting to put himself together somewhat for a meal with Loras - this man was one of his inspirations, but he couldn’t even bring himself to look put together for him. Maybe when things were better, Robin would find a way to make up for it, but, until then, he could barely think about how down he must appear.
Forcing himself to take a small bite of the food in front of him, Robin shrugged a little bit - traveling wouldn’t have been too awful on him; getting out of the Vale meant getting away from a majority of the people who once again looked at him as if he were something to pity. “I’m sure you’re not that bad at cooking.” That was the best he could do at the given time. Robin was no chef himself; while he knew how to bake simple recipes, cooking was a whole different ballpark to him, and one that he didn’t really understand past boiled noodles. The question led to a furrowed brow. “I’m twenty-two…” It was his way of saying that he was mostly left on his own. “My mother’s got a lot on her plate right now.” That was true. And he was an adult, he should have the capability of taking care of himself, even when things were rough. “I appreciate you offering that, Loras… but… I just don’t know what you can do. I’m going to have a lot on my plate until all of this is figured out…”
“I’ll prove it to you sometime - when you’re feeling better and a trip to Oldtown is on the cards.” Loras smiled, a small, empathetic little thing. He’d be sure to have takeout arriving just as soon as the point was proven. “Hopefully this will all blow over soon, for your sake, and your dad’s...” A sigh, heavy and slow, leaked out of him. “Everyone knows your father - he’s revered and respected. I know he didn’t do it, and the rest of them will know that soon too as soon as all the hysteria’s over.”
Perhaps it was the tried and true Tyrell codependence that had Loras shocked at the assumption that because Robin was an adult his family seemed to be leaving him to weather this alone. It was no small thing to have one’s father accused of murder to the watching eyes of the entire nation, appalled that their Prime Minister’s life had been taken. “Twenty two, thirty two, forty two - everyone needs to be looked after.” He smiled, and shrugged as though it were a casual comment and not something he believed in deeply. “You don’t need to know right now, but when you need something, small or big, just let me know. I’ll get it done.” He sipped at his coffee, and watched Robin over the rim of his cup. “There was something I wanted to ask of you, actually. I have this party every year, to raise money for screen production and acting scholarships - it’s held at Highgarden, and I'd love it if you could come.” It would be a good distraction, Loras thought, and a chance for the Arryns to show their usual philanthropic face. “I’d invite you to speak, but maybe we’ll save that for next year, all current events considered. I wouldn’t want to push you.”
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