(484) OOC: Yay for mobile posts! Robert is in optime rocking a waistcoat and flat cap. :] and he's an awkward turtle
Robert rolled over in his bed so that his back faced the window, away from the morning that wished to light up his room soon. The boy had been up most of the night, as usual, reading a new book he received at the ball. Well, he really just saw it on the table and grabbed it, and was not too sure who placed it there. Nonetheless, it was a book, and he was not hesitant to jump right into it. It was some ramblings about the world, which were things the Collins had already researched about. But, like any other book, he studied it into the late hours, and only sat it down until the dark sky had begun to lighten.
He grumbled and covered his head with his wool-stuffed sack, and tried to make himself go to sleep. Just when he thought he was starting to doze off, a cry echoed outside, which only made Frost press the pillow against his head in attempts to block out the noise; in his insomniac state, it was at first nothing but meaningless sound. But, he mulled over what he heard. It sounded like a canine... which did not entice his interest one bit, if not deterred it. Sliding his head from under the sack, he rested his chin on it, eyes still closed as he grumbled nonsense to himself. He went quiet for a moment, and then pressed his face into the pillow as if to savor it for one last moment.
“Fine… Fine! I’ll go see…” With that, he stepped out of bed, dressing himself, taking his time to groom his mop of hair to look at least presentable in this unholy hour. Taking a lit lantern, he quietly left his home, and started off where he thought he heard the cry. If it was really a person and not some beast, he thought of some choice words he would say as he walked through the trees, his small fire lighting his path. “Who's out here?” he called out in a tested tone, followed by more muted remarks and grumbles.
He scented someone out there, and knew that he would stumble up them soon. No more than a minute later after finding the scent, he crossed over some underbrush, and shined the lantern on a lupine girl. He had expected a trouble making male, or some other heathen, but he was certain that the cry came from here despite his initial assumption. He glanced away from her, all insults that had brewed in his mind falling quiet, and muttered instead, “Sorry, miss.” He started to shuffled back into the trees, wishing that he did not bother himself to get out of bed; the last thing he wanted to do was to annoy a girl this early in the morning, and hoped that he did not disturbed her with whatever she was doing.
