but where is the human element

Even Robin, a man who lives his life for constant forward momentum, likes a chance to breathe now and then. When the computer in the office of Semele's gets to be too much for his eyes - more that it's too much for his thin patience - he presses away from the work at hand and chances out past the back of the place and out into the front. Unsurprisingly, November has seen a dip in activity as the holiday sales season starts encroaching, and Robin briefly considers taking advantage and running his own specials. He isn't much of a holiday believer, but there's no reason to lose business just because parents have got to save their money to buy more fucking Legos and smartphones.

He pulls groggily up to the taps behind the bar and holds a hefty pilsner glass up to them, but catches out of the corner of his eye a familiar face with an unfamiliar expression, which makes him drop what he is doing immediately. Robin smoothes his tie down along the front of his suit.

"You've got a face like someone just told you that there was no Easter Bunny. And that Santa was your alcoholic uncle in a cheap suit."