Curious eyes lowered as a wilted flower was held to him with nimble, experienced fingers, its petals barely clinging onto life within the cesspool that was Zaun. Through reputation alone, Robin had heard of this man, the Eye of Zaun, unmistakably named thus by the inverted colored organ situated in his eye socket. What could cause such an afflication? He lacked an answer but was polite as he lifted his hand to pluck the flower from the man's hand. Upon first contact the stem began to plumpen, swaths of color returning and bursting up into the petals - which now stood at attention. He would be amiss to not notice the way it mirrored the fiery iris which seemed to drill into his very core.
A dark pit with a single ember burning out of sheer spite and fierce instinct for survival.
At least that is what the mage's clouded eyes could see and pick apart from the mostly blurred figure before him and the sweet scent of tobacco sticking to his clothing... Suddenly his chest tightened, a bolt of fear bouncing between the expanse of his ribcage but never reaching his face. Surely, he prayed, that his repuation within Zaun had completely faded away, that this was simply a visit from a stranger. Nothing more. He woudl not entertain such an idea. And so, he chuckled, his laugh keeping up to his namesake - sweet like birdsong - as he admired the flower gifted to him, what a rare thing for a Zaunite to hold...let alone to give away.
"I thank you for this, stranger. I will make sure to nurture it properly in my garden, would you like to help pick where I will plant it?"