Who: Reeve (& OPEN to outlaws/locals) When: Wednesday night-ish Where: Sherwood forest
It had been long enough. Sherwood Sugar and her band of merry men (and oh! the women) had been running around the boards, and around their shiny new old stomping grounds, taunting him for longer than any sane sheriff would have allowed.
Then again, Reeve had never claimed to be sane.
He took a mini-vacation to the shire--Nottingham shire--in the middle of the week, whilst Betty and Dallas were busy planning their nuptials. From there, it wasn't hard to find the outlaws' encampment. He'd done his homework, and while they may have suspected his identity, with any lucky, the lot of them were still blissfully oblivious.
When he had satisfied his curiosity, beguiling the time and feeding his knowledge with viewings of the camp, he withdrew, leaving his calling card in the form of an autographed orange decal. No name, just the title. 'I was here. Love, the Sheriff.'