"A lil bit," Marian nodded, taking a bite of her cinnamon roll and chewing, thinking about that shitty fake king, pretender to the throne. When she swallowed she said, "while he was there I felt like his eyes were on my body every moment the Sheriff wasn't watching. They're all wankers." Fuck, maybe the next time it would be John, whenever that happened to be. It had been ages since she'd been captured by John, was probably his turn really. (Maybe they had a newsletter, or drew straws.) She didn't think the pretender was going to live up to the new baseline of shittiness the Sheriff had set.