A waste of energy. Robin tends to treat company this way, as an imposition, unless his visitor happens to be the well-liked commander at the point of their country’s sharpest blade-- the Shepherds. Not only does he prefer to keep to himself-- while the work he has to do is never truly complete; all that he does can only benefit Chrom’s army. Sometimes his workaholic tendencies get the better of him.
The total of hours he has spent consecutively awake at this point could be best described as gratuitous. Dark lines set in beneath his eyes which never truly faded to begin with-- they’re especially pronounced today. It is the relatively peaceful week following a battle that finds Robin in this state. All the days blur into one another, but the fighting he clearly remembers. How couldn’t he, when he’s been reviewing it in his head nonstop?
A waste of energy, he thought, and not for the first time. Resources, too. The battle plan had been thrown together more hastily than Robin liked, and for the sake of ... just whom, he’d already forgotten. At least it had worked, he supposed, and they’d gained an ally for their troubles.
Untrained manaketes were vulnerable, weak links in their cohesive strategies. Nowi’s growth had taught him, however, that experience would fine-tune them into holy terrors in combat. He’s already begun to consider how another will avail their war efforts. The newest they’d picked up already knew how to fight, thankfully-- and he was impressive.
He finds interruptions to his work rather less impressive, and though he’s the one to have carelessly knocked shoulders with their latest recruit while walking past in something of a daze (with his nose in a book, no less, though he isn’t reading it so much as he is staring at the pages with glazed eyes and hoping its glyphs somehow reach his brain through his tired haze), he huffs in displeasure. He doesn’t even look up. There’s little evidence he even knows who he’d almost run into.
"Watch where you’re going, wouldn’t you?" @escutcheoningly // sc.