WHO:Prince King John and Robin Hood WHEN: Friday 13th May, evening WHERE: A warehouse by the river WHAT: John is getting impatient. WARNINGS: a bit of roughing up of a gentleman’s face
Getting close with Samira was helping John with his general ennui to an extent. She was fiery and fun when she was being herself, and a lot more entertaining than when he’d thought her an empty-headed heiress. It was inspiring something else in him though, something far more creative than he’d felt in a long time.
He was going to track down Robin Hood and beat the little fuck until he finally revealed where the Sheriff had gotten to.
Why now? John was bored, and he had only his lawyer associates to socialise with. Sure, he took home pretty women from a bar on occasion, but that barely counted as a meeting of minds. He missed having someone know who he truly was, and even though Samira was coming close, she still couldn’t know yet.
So, he’d hired a private investigator with as few morals as possible, and paid the man to track down the shithead known as Robin of Locksley, incapacitate the man, and get him to an out-of-the-way warehouse where nobody who cared would hear him scream. He was going to get Malcolm back even if it meant beating the living daylights out of Robin Hood. And hopefully, it would.
When John got the text message to say the job was done, he smiled a truly wicked smile. A deposition hadn’t felt as long as his one did that afternoon until he could escape, and unusually for him, leave early. His trusted driver picked him up and they headed out of Manhattan. John could hardly wait.