Robin ran a hand over his growling midsection as he walked through the unfamiliar hallway, following his nose. This new body of his had been conjured with an empty belly, and the unmistakable scent of pie was wafting in his general direction. Fruit pie. Hot, spiced fruit pie, and nuts, and molasses...

And that last hungry rumble practically echoed off the walls. Robin strode past the room he'd been assigned to sleep in. The ethereal presence of pie reassured him on several levels: first and most visceral, that there was food to be had, and soon; but that it was fruit pie meant that despite his empty senses, something did indeed grow somewhere in this Gods-forsaken place. And he would find it.

His stomach snarled, and Robin grimaced to himself. First things first.