It would have been a rare moment to find Marian in anything modern. In her spare moments, when she had them, and when she wasn't out in the meadow, she did her own sewing and recreated a good many of the things she'd worn back in Nottingham. More often than not, though, when she was out here she wore the patch work slacks, dark worn leather stretching from the inside of her thighs down to her ankles, the rest made out of scraps of materials that would help camouflage her in shadow, and a taut double breasted leather shirt, it was meant to help hide that she was a woman-with binding, but she had neglected to bind that morning, so rather than hide it likely accentuated.
She was without her cape and masks this day though. There was little use for them unless she was creeping about where she wasn't supposed to be. So she went for comfort over anything else.
"Coming from you, my lord," A little teasing in her tone hid where her mind had been, "I find that a rather grand compliment. Sadly, though, I am hardly a natural. It has taken a great deal of practice." Very near twenty years of her life worth. Marian offered him an easy smile. "What has brought you out this far?" Not that she wasn't glad of the company.