Robin tilts his head from one side to the other, unwilling to pass judgment on what might or might not be weird. "Memory is a fickle thing," he says instead, because he knows a little something about that. "If yours is anything like mine...it comes and goes." That's more than he's said to anyone about it in quite some time. Perhaps it's not much of a revelation, given to a stranger, but he's made himself uncomfortable nevertheless.

He quickens his pace so that he can glance at her sideways. "Why must you look for them without your brother noticing?" he asks.