Who: Robin and Marian What: WE DON'T EVEN KNOW ANYMORE, but hopefully making up When: Sunday morning, after this. Where: Chez Locksley Warnings: ....idek
It was a testament to just how 21st century the Locksleys had gotten when Marian could get away with legitimately telling her husband he was sleeping on the couch. And that he actually did it. She stayed up until she heard his key in the lock and his arrival. So long as he was alive, she didn't really care. If he wanted to come to bed, she wasn't going to force him out. But when he didn't, she couldn't say she much minded. She slept, though fitfully, and let her anger stew.
In their time period, having a few drinks wasn't unheard of. Less so in this one. So why did it bother her so much now that he had? Was it because he hadn't even spoken to her about it before he'd left? Most likely. But more likely that he felt he had troubles to try and drink away. And also, the health risks, when his medications clearly said they shouldn't be mixed with alcohol. The foolish git was going to end up killing himself anyway. Never mind that she was worried about him even making it home, if he was already intoxicated there was no way he could fend off any attacks. Fine, she was a little paranoid. She had a right to be. He'd nearly died. She hadn't been given this second chance at life to just lose him. It couldn't work that way.
That didn't stop her from being angry. When she rose the next morning, she merely glanced at the bundle asleep on the couch under a blanket and rolled her eyes. She was over his attitude. Let it simmer out. She didn't need it. Instead she walked right past him (after maybe possibly checking to make sure the blanket covered him fully, she wasn't heartless) and into the kitchen to put a kettle on for tea. Every now and then she'd glance in his direction, but she wasn't about to wake him.