Robin had not planned to show up tonight. He'd had a verbal lashing from Little John (however polite) on how he needed to be a team player and try. Well, for Robin trying meant if he had to even see Marian it was going to be through the hazy glance of alcohol. Maybe he had had a bit too much, and maybe he'd decided to bring his bow. Little John walked behind him with a sigh, this was going to be a terrible encounter. He stopped suddenly, catching up to Robin and extending his arm out. He put his finger to his lips to keep him quiet as the little string bean looked at him in protest. He pointed ahead and walked them towards the caravan of trees to hide them from who was just ahead.
"It's the Sheriff---" Little John whispered which made Robin's eye's bug out of his head, wiggling his bow around. "Bugger, where's my arrow?" He tried to stay quiet and John used himself as a shield to push them further into the shadows. He reached into the quiver on Robin's back and held it. "Are you seriously going to shoot him now?" Robin looked up towards the top of the parsonage as he heard Marian talk to the Sheriff. He reached for the arrow that John held from his grasp with a strong, "Yes!" John sighed. He'd like to say Robin was a bad shot drunk, but leave the little bastard to always surprise him.