teegan fixed him the drink, peeling a fresh orange and retrieving a cherry from the fridge. “I hope you like it.” leaning her chin in her hand, she looked him over again. mostly because you can’t tell someone they smell a little like new books and that leads you to believe they’re classy. “I haven’t seen you around before,” she started. “most people come here for knowledge, or leisure and you strike me as the former.”
“keen eye,” said robin. maybe it was his formal dress that gave him away. looking around, he did feel a little out of place wearing a sweater-slash-button-down combo to a rundown saloon. “well. i’m robin, i’ll be here until new year’s if plans go as intended,” he introduced himself with a brief smile. some weren’t big on shaking hands, so he kept his own flat atop the bar. “---faulk hollow. not the bar.”
Hand is immediately drawn back, fingers awkwardly curl themselves into the fabric of his coat. Eyes wander to the figure before him, a weak smile, hinting vague discomfort. The other’s words, however, appear soothing, a statement Marty didn’t typically expect to hear. “No, I believe I’m with the majority on that particular thought.” a slight nod follows. “Thank you, however, for the piece of information.” his tone calm, harmless.
robin picks up on the other’s discomfort rather quickly---a perk of working with students his age four days out of the week---and turns his attention back to the shelves of milk. “you’re welcome,” he says, retracting his hand into his jacket pocket. “i think about it every time i’m in the dairy aisle, and i wonder. is it social conditioning? do people see the brown cow on the packaging and make the subconscious connection to brown milk? or has society failed us so far as to not teach people that milk products can be flavored with cocoa powder?”
a heavy, forlorn sigh escapes him. robin catches the stranger’s eye in his peripheral, and faces him with another polite smile. “you can take it. i’ll probably be able to make do with some nesquik.”
❝ It’s not as bad as it looks, see? ❞ He lifts the ice pack from his face tentatively, the area surrounding his eye that had been used as a target for the werewolves fist was already starting to bruise and ugly shade of purple and black. He flinches slightly as he presses the ice pack to his face again, if for nothing more than to keep up appearances. It’s not the first altercation he’s gotten into with a werewolf before, their kind don’t take too kindly to vampires on their territory but Ollie’s still struggling to navigate his way around Faulk Hollow without pissing off the other species that call it home.
“hm.” it was long past nightfall, and robin was able to spot that black eye from down the street. hardly something he’d call a minor injury. while his credentials may not have been in biology, robin was the closest to a doctor out of the two of them---this prompted him to step forward, taking the young man’s jaw in a firm (gentle, though, he wasn’t a sadist) grip. “your eye’s not bloodshot, so the socket itself must not have been impacted. what led you into an altercation at---” he checked his wristwatch. “---ten o’clock at night?”
teegan looked him over, taking in a breathe and closing her eyes. Doing around mystic looking gesture, and masking the fake she was taking in his scent. her keen nose was a blessing and curse, but this was one of the perks. “hmm, you’re tricky.” she stalled, trying to pinpoint her best assumption. “smooth red or,” she opened her eyes, leaning in with a smile. “an old fashion?”
robin hummed, considering his choices. “i do like tradition,” he acquiesced, placing his elbows atop the bar. “i’ll try the old fashioned.” the name sounded a bit familiar to him, anyway. he must have read about it in one of those lawrence block novels. “what made you decide on those two?”
“let me guess,” teegan gestured vaguely in the air fingers dancing around the brim of her hat. “bourbon?” is what she lands on, looking at her customer with a hopeful expression. sometimes, you have to make your job a little extra exciting. not that nightlife around here was exactly boring, but. “you look like a bourbon type.”
“i don’t know enough about liquor to discern whether or not that’s a good thing.” robin was never much of one for drinking. a glass of wine every now and then for good health and a beer when he was offered one in a social setting, but he didn’t make a habit of drinking for sport. he’d been told by a few of the locals that the bar was one of faulk hollow’s landmark meeting spots, so here he was. not meeting anything but extreme confusion as he perused the drink selection. “what would you recommend for me?”
“Couldn’t tell you mate, they’re probably off round the local skiving.” Alfie joked, as he often did when he wasn’t sure what else to say. He reached for the carton and tipped in faux cheers when it passed from Robin’s possession to his own, placing it in the basket he was carrying around next to the rest of the items he had been sent in for.
He didn’t know whether to be impressed or intimidated by his admission, he could have studied for an extra two years and still not have even made Oxford’s waitlist.
“For real? Wicked, you must be a right brainbox then if you went there. My mum was worried I wasn’t even going to get in somewhere local with my results, but I did alright. What did you study?”
In his chatter, he forgot the basket he was holding was supposed to be heavy, given it’s contents. For the sake of it, he switched it from being held with his right hand to his left.
robin’s composed exterior faltered at the use of slang---brainbox? he assumed that to mean he was very intelligent. that, or a nerd. both inferences were welcomed. “i studied philosophy,” he told the other, opting to look at the soy milks, instead. “the school has a fantastic program for it, i was very fortunate for the opportunity.” fortunate, he thought, but not lucky. it had taken a great deal of work on robin’s part to land him where he was. currently, that was the dairy aisle in a rundown grocery mart.
with a sigh (he wasn’t going to find anything he really wanted here), robin offered a polite smile. “my name is robin schenk. i’ll be living in faulk hollow for the semest---for fall.” there he was again, nearly going into professor mode. “it seems neither of us are native to the area.”
Before his fingertips could even graze the milk carton – the last thing on the shopping list his sister had given him, score – his train of thought was interrupted by a question that threw him for far more of a loop than it should have, considering.
“Ummmmmm,” He stalled, feeling strangely idiotic for not being just a little sharper with a retort. “Are you being, like, cowcist?”
“I am not part of that seven percent, but I’m about ninety seven percent confused as to why you would ask me, someone just try’na finish his shopping list, this. I’m not even American mate, I’m English.”
“and the other three percent?” while robin’s field of expertise was in theories and concepts, numbers had always fascinated him just the same. the idea that humans developed a system in which they could classify objects, ideas, feelings---based on the quantity of such things was something to marvel at. unfortunately, not many did.
robin picked up the carton, glanced over it, and extended it to the young man as a peace offering. “as an undergraduate, i studied abroad in oxford for a semester,” he said. “it’s cold.”
BEAST-EYED GAZE SET IN PRISTINE, honey-wrought countenance, it’s not the first time the wolf considered himself out of place. regardless of the silks he was swaddled in, ( high fashion, brands the folk here could barely afford to pronounce, ) he pondered carving his own steaks from the stolen lives of the animals on his property, yet still found himself in flickeringly lit aisles. slender hand remained outstretched towards a weakness, whoever said chocolate was lethal for dogs was a liar.
‘ i wouldn’t consider myself american, ‘ a coy response, tongue flicks patiently over lips, as if to clean the mildly accented syllables from his mouth, ‘ nor would i consider myself part of that minority. is this some strange method of validating whether i deserve to have this carton or not? ‘
calmly retracting his hand from the carton, robin made quick work of assessing his new company. young male---early twenties. not very forthcoming, but not exactly opposed to interaction, either. yes, this was a safe venture. “if there’s ever a moment where i intend to play god,” said robin, “i don’t think selecting a carton of milk would be it.”
he went for the slim milk, instead. it seemed as though he’d have to make due with some ovaltine, if this mart even carried it. “so you’re not native to the americas?” neither was he. “what would you consider yourself, then?”
Victor had been hoping that the study was flawed. It seemed one of those poorly worded ones especially sensationalized to catch the attention of online readers. Maybe he’d been too optimistic; not a usual characteristic of his. “Who’s to say there weren’t consenting adults?” Victor opted against any cow related milk, grabbing the chocolate almond instead. “I shouldn’t be surprised by the stupidity of others anymore, and yet here I am. Brown cows, huh.”
“Gelatin; like to make Jell-o?” Victor asked to buy himself enough time to think about it. He wasn’t too much of a cook, and even if he was he wouldn’t be making Jell-o. “I’d guess it’d be somewhere in the baking section. Are you new to town?” He placed the milk into his cart and pushed it further down the aisle to grab a few yogurts.
it was pudding, actually. robin planned on making chocolate pudding---a comfort favorite of his. “mm,” he answered, surveying the selection of greek yogurts as he idled down the aisle. “it’s been almost a month now, and i still haven’t familiarized myself with the local grocery.” how embarrassing of him. these past few weeks had been spent eating scarcely as robin poured over various texts and tomes, causing his health to take a bit of a decline. “come to think of it, i haven’t familiarized myself with many of the local gathering spots, really.
he blinked expectantly at the other. if his knowledge of social cues was accurate, now would be the time to tell him what said gathering spots were called.
Since arriving in Faulk Hollow, Eden had been to the grocery store exactly once. Human food was expensive and unnecessary but she had found a forum discussing the similarities between coconut water and blood plasma so there she was, her basket containing the entirety of the store’s coconut water stock. Browsing the shelves out of habit, her attention was drawn to the last carton of chocolate milk, her favorite as a child. She reached for it but her hand landed on warm flesh instead, making her quickly pull back.
“Please tell me that’s a joke,” Eden frowned at the man, truly horrified by that fact if it was true. Though she’d heard some pretty stupid things back in her hometown so how surprised could she really be? “Actually, that sounds pretty likely in this country. I mean, there are people out there who think the Earth is flat so.”
“i don’t joke about chocolate milk,” robin said solemnly, straightening as he faced the woman. he’d come across the statistic while browsing the internet for chocolate pudding recipes. it was a factoid that forever haunted him while browsing the dairy section.
“the belief that chocolate milk comes from chocolate-colored cows is bred from poor education,” he continued, looking over the nutrition label, “whereas the flat earth theory stems from the distrust of science. and even then, i’m not sure which is worse: blind stupidity, or willful ignorance.”
Victor’s cart was full of alcohol because he was an adult and that meant avoiding his problems by drinking the weekend away. It was halfway through his little shopping trip that he realized he couldn’t survive only on that and headed towards the dairy aisle. He’d need good cheese and bread to go with the wine. He was a man of simple tastes. Maybe he should also order a pizza on the drive home. And returning to that mature adult comment, Victor was, of course, buying chocolate milk. He couldn’t drink wine for breakfast.
He lifted his hand away when he noticed he’d almost grabbed the same carton as another patron. “No, I’m very much aware that there is no such thing as chocolate cows.” He rolled his eyes and grabbed another carton. “I have to ask, were those seven percent under the age of five? Because that just makes for a poor sample size and hardly represents Americans,” he muttered.
robin had been prepared to select a carton of regular milk when the other made the noble sacrifice for them. blessed is the grace of strangers. “don’t be ridiculous,” he said, his basket growing heavier with the weight of horizon organic. “surveying children without the consent of a legal guardian would never make it past the institutional review board.”
young as he was, robin had known many a fool throughout his short lifetime---even more so throughout his tenure as an assistant professor. it wasn’t so hard to believe that nearly 16 million people in this godforsaken country believed that flavored milk came from flavored cows. “do you know where the gelatin is located? this store has a rather confusing layout.”
robin’s never bought into retro charm. society progresses for a reason, and he much prefers whole foods to the decaying selection of produce they have on display at the ol’ mart grocery. still, there’s something comfortingly quaint about the establishment. it feels as though he’s on the set of a stephen king movie as he wanders the numbered aisles with a shopping basket in tow. and as he reaches for the last carton of chocolate milk, it’s only appropriate for the setting that he meets someone else’s hand there, as well. robin smiles.
“seven percent of americans believe that chocolate milk comes from brown cows,” he tells the stranger. “are you part of that seven percent?”
tommy t! you just missed the craziest of crazies. clubs. girls. dancing. naked—mom? argument. fleeing the scene. hiding in a dumpster. coming here. crashing on your couch for a week ‘cause ♪ technically i’m homeless ♪
what’s up everyone, i’m rhae (they/them), i’m 20, and i live in est. this is my chameleon muse robin, aka the nutty (asst.) professor. this rp has been on my radar for a while and i’m so excited to be joining in on all that supernatural action! i’ve put a little more info under the cut about who i’ll be playing:
DANE DEHAAN & CISMALE / / here we’ve got ROBIN SCHENK the THIRTY year old ASSISTANT PROFESSOR. with a reputation for being COMPELLING, ASTUTE, DRY, and ECCENTRIC, it’s surprising we haven’t heard more about HIM. ROBIN has been around faulk hollow for FOUR WEEKS, but they ain’t leaving anytime soon. you hear THE DEVIL IS A LIE by RICK ROSS? that means you’ll see ‘em soon.
born in doetinchem, nederland in 1988. little is known about robin’s ancestry, only that his parents were dutch. he was adopted as a newborn and raised in oregon, usa.
robin schenk is an assistant professor with a doctorate in philosophy. employed by a university on the northwest coast, he’s currently on sabbatical leave to conduct his studies in faulk hollow.
those who know him personally would tell you that robin is an odd individual. his words are short and direct, but his gazes linger and his intuition is rival to none. though ostentatiously wealthy in style, he lives in a modest single bedroom home with little decoration or personal flair. he’s known by many, but has few friends.
robin caught wind of faulk hollow while working on his master thesis. he’s felt what he describes as a tether to the place ever since, compelling him to delve deeper into its history.
he’s now been here for four weeks, and robin is adjusting to life in faulk hollow quite well. he is learning the ways of the residents, and the unspoken code they follow. however---that doesn’t mean he’ll comply with it forever.
aaaand that’s about it for now. i like to rp based on chem but if you could see our characters having a connection i’m always open to plotting something, so hmu either in ims or discord (rhaeden smith#6779)!
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