Little John's eyebrows raised fractionally in surprise, even more so when he stepped through the kitchen door and the Sheriff didn't so much as break his hum. Little John was quiet on his soft boots, but no one was that quiet. He shot a look at Robin, checking to see if he suspected they were walking into some trap as well, but he couldn't feel anyone else in the apartment, and Michael didn't exactly have the kind of ceiling you could drop a net from (though Little John had looked up, to check.)
No, this was weird alright, but there was nothing to suggest that Little John and Robin weren't the most dangerous things in the kitchen. Little John shifted sideways, blocking off the second entrance, then, staff ready in his hands, he cleared his throat, deeply.