"Unbearable spoiled little brats." Robin growled under his breath, glaring at the closed door with simmering anger. His jaw tightened, his patience stretched thin. Then he turned toward Jabba, his tone softening slightly though his expression remained sharp. "...Are you alright over there?"
"Tsk, tsk~" Jabba groaned as he pushed himself up from the floor, moving stiffly. "My body's fine, but my pride… my poor pride isn't. Damn it, I need to get back to training before I start rusting." He spat the words out, half irritated and half embarrassed.
Robin let out a quiet exhale through his nose. "We'll deal with that pride of yours later. Right now…" His voice deepened, and his gaze snapped back toward the apartment door, locking onto it with lethal focus. A low hum filled the air as his body began to radiate an overwhelming surge of soul force — thick, heavy, and unrestrained.
Wooooosh!
The air trembled.
