Robin hated it when Much made so much sense, especially when he realized that he, himself, was out of line. Turning back to the window, he rubbed his hands over his face and let out an annoyed breath. Time and patience were all and good for people who were not getting married or re-married or whatever they wanted to call it. But, after having exchanged vows with Marian under tragic circumstances twice already, he had hoped the third time would be simply what a wedding should be-- perhaps a little stressful, but overall, a joyous occasion. Doomed? Maybe not. Perhaps cursed. He had never subscribed to superstitions like that, but he was beginning to wonder.
"I don't want to be patient," he muttered, cringing at his own petulance as he said it. With another heavy sigh, he turned back. "I certainly hope you're right about Allan. And I know this was difficult on everyone." Glancing over at his bow case, he decided he no longer wanted to blow off steam; he had apologizing to do. Reluctantly meeting Much's eyes, he said, "I'm sorry."