The stories were always kind to Robin. Even if the bastard wasn't the squeaky clean good guy that they all painted him to be, no one ever questioned the guy that stole in order to help others for the good. It was trite, but Guy wanted to be liked. No. Respected. He wasn't in a job he liked, he wasn't even in a job that he wanted to do for much longer. Desk jobs were not his thing, but he worked for a law office as a clerk, and by the end of the day he just wanted to strangle every one in that office and set it on fire. He still might. He got angry when he was treated as their footstool, and seeing as how these last few years had been in the world of Robin Hood and his tales, Guy wasn't exactly up there for man of the year.
He'd gotten out of his tie and jacket, opened a few buttons on his collar shirt and put on a leather jacket. This was his bar, because hanging out with the dregs of society sometimes made him feel better. That famous red-headed beauty was the last person he'd expected to see. Damn it. Why was she here? Fate was either being cruel or kind, he was hoping for the latter. Stories had made him competition for Robin, and Guy would always believe that woman deserved a real man in her life, not some boy running around playing games. Guy looked suspiciously around as if the moment he took a seat beside her that Robin and his entire gang would come out to poke fingers and laugh at him for even thinking he could spent time with her. This was some joke wasn't it? Or a trap?
His eyes were all around as he came in to her side of the room. Well this was going to be awkward. Since when was she nice without there being an ulterior motive?