[center][img]http://txt-dynamic.cdn.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjQ0LjNjZDNjYy5RWFYwYjIxaGRHOXUuMAAA/th3-machine.regular.png[/img][/center] [center][sub][i][@Sickle-cell] [@Migyudon] [@Duoya] [@Old Amsterdam] [@SkinnyTy] [@PlatinumSkink][/i][/sub][/center] Automaton couldn't help but tense up as Sickle approached her, but to her credit she managed not to flinch as he made his offer. There was something unnerving about his behaviour, about the note of glee in his voice and the lack of anything else. She didn't say anything in response, but then she didn't think she needed to. [color=cyan][i]Five minutes.[/i][/color] Not enough time to write a will. And not an offer she had any reason to take, no matter her bravado. But whatever impulse had made her chase that opportunity, it wasn't done. Somehow, despite knowing what a lucky break she'd had with this fight, Robin knew she couldn't resist the offer. Whether that was a sign of weakness or strength, she wasn't quite sure - but the situation had fallen into her lap. In the absence of any further opportunities... she picked up her jacket, slinging it over one shoulder. Temptation. Impulse. Both more appealing to her than worrying about consequences. When you really got down to it, she was just going with the flow. Deciding not to hold things up any longer, she exited the cage, trying to ignore the furious crowd members as she made her way out. There were a couple of curious glances - maybe people expected her to hang around and bask in her so-called victory, but she knew she hadn't earned a bit of it. Not yet. Anyone that approached her would get no response, the Tinker being almost completely lost in thought. The rational parts of her raging against the utter stupidity of this deal. But it was a lost cause. After a few minutes' deliberation, she came to a decision, walking out of the Circus in a move that she knew could be signing her own death warrant - though the reality of that didn't quite hit home. Whether out of bravery or stupidity, the action had been taken. It took a certain kind of person to willingly put their head on the chopping block, but she found herself unafraid. One more step. Power. Inspiration. If a trial by fire was what it took for strength, then Automaton would be the first to jump into the flames. Whatever fear she felt was nothing of importance, not when compared to the potential gain. So she stood outside the Circus, bravely determined as she waited for Sickle's arrival. If he was to be her executioner, she'd go out with her head held high.