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The tree canopy tinted the sunlight countless shades of emerald and trapped the hot, sticky air like a blanket. A couple weeks later and it would have been too humid for midday hiking.
For those tapped into the seasonal cycles, the haze of the late spring was just as important as the winds of late fall. As Robin Hood would describe it, “The final kick in the pants to get your shit ready for what came next.” The fools who weren’t ready for the summer heat ended up miserable. That was only slightly better than the people who picked a fight with winter. Those typically ended up dead.
Robin stopped, looking up at the artificial leaves and projected sky. The world the training simulator presented was good, but not perfect. Nature’s pulse was something Robin should have felt as innately as his own heartbeat. It was notably absent here.
In the distance, Robin could hear his Master call his name.
* * *
“Apparently this place used to be filled with forests.”
Robin’s mind contained a whole repertoire of pick up lines gathered across time. This, though? This was definitely the strangest one he had encountered yet.
Mata Hari stood beside him, coffee and plate in hand. Robin hadn’t intended to be lingering long in the cafeteria. The woman had probably been waiting for the exact moment when sitting alone started to feel awkward and he was ready to peace out. Freaking spies.
There was no clear escape route in sight. Robin played along instead. “Chaldea used to be filled with forests? Those fake battlefields don’t count.”
“No, no, no. Antarctica.” Mata Hari silently placed the plate down on the table. There were more pastries on it then Robin would have expected for a single person. Yep, this was planned.
“Never took you for being into that sort of thing,” Robin remarked, then immediately mentally reeled back. Way to shut down a girl who might actually share an interest with you. “No offense.”
“It pales in comparison with the actual offenses thrown at me.” Mata Hari proudly beamed as she took a seat. Her shamelessness was remarkable. “I overheard some of the staff talking about what the continent used to be like.”
“Right. You’d be more into that.”
The joke landed. Mata Hari laughed; her voice had a gentle cadence Robin hadn’t noticed until now.
They were fighting for their lives the last time they talked. Stopping the world from being ripped apart and remade into a hellscape didn’t allow for much quiet reflection.
“Have you been outside?” she asked, picking up one of the pastries. The scent of butter and sugar wafted across the table. “Aside from it being less scenic now than it would have been millions of years ago.”
Robin shook his head. “Not sure if you looked outside lately, but it’s still snowing. Again. Like it did yesterday and it will do tomorrow.”
“Like it matters as a servant.” Mata Hari gestured to her outfit of bright satin and chiffon. “I promise you I’ve never felt a draft around here. If you’re truly concerned for my wellbeing, I’ll go get my coat.”
This woman had more clothes? Not that she ever wore them around the base. Still. The question of what she looked like in these mysterious new clothes was compelling. And what she looked like out of them, for that matter.
“Are you setting me up for the big twist that your winter coat shows more skin than usual?” Robin asked, swiping one of the unclaimed pastries. He’d take this bait.
Mata Hari raised a finger to her lips, pantomiming a moment of deep thought. Robin crunched on the pastry as he waited. God, flirting with this woman was like playing a strange game of chicken.
“Audacious,” Mata Hari finally said, snapping her fingers. “You can say that my coat is more audacious than anything you’ve ever seen me in.”
What the hell was that supposed to mean? Okay, Robin was definitely curious now. “I suppose, just for you, I could be a perfect gentleman and help you put it on.”
The woman flashed a wicked grin back as she leaned across the table and gently touched the side of Robin’s face. Her gray eyes glinted like the pebbles in a stream; her soft hair felt like moss brushing against his skin. No other woman had ever captured the spirit of Robin’s home quite like this.
“You’re so chivalrous,” she said into his ear, just above a whisper.
The blood rushed to Robin’s face and time collapsed in on itself. He should have spat those words back in her face. Rejected the notion of knighthood flat out. Spurned the very concept of emotional attachment. Instead, his brain promptly imploded.
It was seconds later when Robin rediscovered that he could breathe.
“You are a dangerous woman,” Robin hissed, emphasizing every word. His muffled voice was talking directly into the tabletop, although he didn’t have the slightest idea how he got there. Definitely, he had been outplayed.
“Again, not the worst thing that’s been said to my face.” Robin could hear Mata Hari’s chair slide across the tile floor as she stood up. “So, are we going?”