‘My name,’ said his doppelgänger, ‘is Griffin Lovell.’ Upon closer inspection, he and Robin were not so alike after all. He was several years older, and his face bore a hard maturity that Robin’s hadn’t yet acquired. His voice was deeper, less forgiving, more assertive. He was several inches taller than Robin, though he was also much thinner; indeed, he appeared composed entirely of sharp edges and angles. His hair was darker, his skin paler. He looked like a print illustration of Robin, the lighting contrasts amplified and the colour blanched out.
