The first thing Robin would notice was that Much had arrived without the trademark hat. The second? His clothing was torn and dirty from fighting. He was filthy and confused. Kansas had a way of disorienting people, even the ones who had been there once before. He'd walked through the graveyard all the way to Sherwood without even thinking on it. He was exhausted, and his eyes were tired and sad. Cars didn't take pity on it, nothing in the modern world did. Much looked as though for a moment he hadn't even had a clue where he'd wound up.
Then he saw him, the figure of his friend and he rubbed his eyes. Maybe he had been poisoned too and this hallucination was the result? His Robin was dead. "This isn't real." He said allowed. He was grieving. It was a trick of his mind. They shared that worry in common.
"Am I dead?" He truly hadn't been planning suicide, as much as the thought had crossed his mind. He knew it wouldn't have been what Robin wanted; and was just the thought of a grief sricken person. He was trying to properly accept his friends death, hallucinations weren't a promising start.