Two days after the Sheriff took an arrow to the butt, which was also the day the Sheriff locked Will in his shed, which was also the day Sheriff followed Marian onto her train, Much - only aware of the occurrence of one of these things - was taking himself for a walk through the city. He was half smirking to himself and every now and then he'd grin at the delightful memory of the arrow protruding from the Sheriff's pants.
Much hoped it hurt. He hoped it hurt so badly.
The grin had a bit of an edge to it.
Tuck was out doing church stuff, and Alan was out doing Alan stuff, so Much was on his way to meet Robin and taking a long route to get there, trying to figure out what 'Much stuff' was going to be, beyond the revenge side of things. He could go back to his old job, he supposed. He'd been working behind a bar that had set up in an industrial building that had, a century or three ago, been used as a mill - he hadn't been able to stop himself applying, he'd seen it one day and some twist of narrative fate had worked its magic and by the end of the day he was pulling pints and mixing drinks. He'd handed in his notice when he'd been planning to go journeying, and then he'd gone and been murdered instead. He could wander back over that side of the city, tell them he was back, see if they had space for him, but the idea didn't sit right. Like he'd be trying to step back into someone else's life. Even though it had been his life.
No, that job was gone, and his old apartment was gone. Even checking in with Bet again didn't feel right, and they'd been friends who flirted behind the bar for months before she'd moved to New Orleans. He'd been supposed to go down and visit, and she was probably pissed - or worse, hurt - that he'd ghosted her, but since she was mortal he wasn't going to try explain the 'I was dead' excuse, and he didn't want to lie to her. What was he gonna say - he lost his phone? He got sick?
Much didn't really see the point in lying to people you liked.
Besides, with everything kicking off with the Sheriff and Guy, Much knew he was needed here. And it sucked that he never got to eat beignets (and lick powdered sugar off her fingers) but it was time to forget about that; he was needed here.
He saw Robin first, at the chessboards, and for a second couldn't work out who he was with - the long dark hair of the woman with her back to him, it didn't seem familiar, and then, moment over, she did. Much cupped his hands and gave one of the old Sherwood signals, a bird call, to let them both know he was incoming.