Work Text:
Robin sat at the end of the table, carefully tying each ribbon with practised ease. As she put the last present in place, she heard an all-too-familiar voice.
“Well, if it ain’t the famous singing queen. Fancy seein’ you ‘round here. ” Boothill’s lips curved into a smirk.
Robin’s heart tightened, and she turned around, smoothly rising from her seat.
“I didn’t expect to see you here, Mister Pom-Pom.”
“No need for the formalities, princess. I thought we were closer than that.”
Don’t let him get to you. Don’t let him get to you.
“Of course, Mr. Boothill. Aren’t we old friends after all?” Robin adjusted her purse and offered a tight smile.
“Old? Surely I’m not such a cranky old man, am I, darlin'?”
“And what of the friend?”
His hand slowly grazed her thigh, leaving a burning heat in its wake.
“Isn’t that for you to decide, princess?” he murmured softly.
Robin cleared her throat. “I’d like to think that everyone has a choice in these matters, Mr. Boothill.”
“There’s the singing queen we love. Always the picture of composure.” He chuckled. “I’m always there if you change your mind, princess.”
Robin looked down, avoiding his gaze.
“I’d best be going now. Don’t be a stranger.” Boothill turned and walked towards the door.
She could think of a thousand reasons why she should’ve let him leave, but none of them mattered.
“Wait.”
He stopped.
“What if I told you I had?”
A heavy silence fell between them.
“Had what.” His voice was laced with tension.
“Changed my mind,” Robin said softly.
“Then you’d best make it quick, princess, ‘cause I’ve been waiting far too long.”