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Summary
"She said I'm looking for Robin Buckley, please," Steve had said, popping open a container of cream. "It was the weirdest thing, like she'd memorized it."
Before Robin can step forward and introduce herself though, the girl is looking up carefully at Robin, her hands fiddling in her lap. "Robin," she says, haltingly, and Steve is right, goddamn it, there is something strange about it-- stranger than the existence of the little girl herself, maybe. Still, Robin nods.
"That's me. Can I help you?"