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Robin Hood (iamrobinhood) wrote in wariscoming,

Her fingers untangling the strings at his neck felt nicer than they had a right to, and he was glad when she laughed at his joke.

"I would have been quite surprised if you had gotten a tattoo, Marian," he remarked, wondering what she would think of his. He was still not entirely certain what he had been thinking when he got it; he had been incredibly drunk at the time. The shadow of the Cross, its center marking the place where she had sewn up the wound inflicted by an arrow shortly after he was outlawed, had made sense to his inebriated mind. In fact, he did not regret having gotten it; he only wished it made more sense to him now, after the fact.

He followed her to a staircase, suddenly experiencing a rush of excitement. It was similar to what he felt before a really well-planned heist, but even better, since there was only hope here-- no danger.

Well, apparently there was danger, but this was supposed to be a safe area, and he did not feel threatened. Completely out of his element, yes. Threatened, no.