Art didn't need any apology, not from Robin, but what he did need was a hug, and he threw his arms around his mate without hesitation. "Missed you, old son," he said, giving Rob a hearty clap on the back.
Life had been uncomplicated in the forest. The days had followed one another in a familiar pattern, and all he'd had to worry about was starvation and dysentery and hypothermia and injury and animal attacks and incursions from forces unknown. You know, simple stuff. But here in this new New York, there were phones with satellite tracking and the internet had morphed into a big sprawling octopus-thing where anything you could imagine was a few taps of a buttonless glass screen away and apparently that racist real estate fuckhead with his name on the buildings had gotten elected president, though Art thought Much might've been pulling his leg on that one. He didn't know where he stood, was the point. But he knew one thing with rock-solid certainty: stuff made more sense when Robin was around.
"Alright," he said at length, when he broke from the hug. "You say these things is safe, I believe you." Not that it would stop him from cornering Marian and quizzing her about phone security and evasion protocols. He wasn't giving that new phone any info to chew on till he knew it wasn't going to squeal to some fucker. But... mayhap it didn't hurt to look some. Recon, again. "What, um... what else can it do?"