She was feeding the ducks, it was quiet and mindless and she didn't have to think about the last few weeks.
Plus is was on the approved list of activities, John was still hovering a bit and as much as she appreciated it she was starting to itch for regularity.
Guy staggered towards a bench, intending to be alone. He didn't noticed the woman, all he was focusing on was the seat... and the woman who occupied his every thoughts.
"What do you want?" he growled at seemingly nothing.
"I wanted to feed the ducks in peace," she answered even though he didn't seem to be talking to her. He was attractive, if scruffy and in need of a bath or a long drying out.
Guy looked at her, seeing her for the first time. Blue eyes blinked against the sunshine. "Invited?" he said, sneering slightly. "Not my fault you were where I wanted to be." There was some logic in that, somewhere.
Martha had her head down in a medical book on the mind as she walked through the lobby, distracted. Surgery on a bullet or wound was one thing, but the mind was something Martha was still learning to understand. But with recent events, she thought she should start learning more about it, just in case.
Which was why she did realize she was heading directly for someone, and that someone was a man in leather, until she felt herself hit a firm wall of leather and flesh and stumbled backwards.
"Watch where you are going, woman," Guy growled at the young dark woman. Not something he was used to, but it didn't phase him. It was most likely obvious he'd been drinking - heavily.
Martha smelled the alcohol before she even looked up at the man's face. She looked up with a stubborn look, fully intending on telling the man what he should be watching if he kept that tone of voice with her, but fell short when she saw his face. The attitude on her face melted quickly into stunned disbelief.
"Ah, Gisborne! There you are! I was wondering where I'd find you." Vaisey had spotted the man by the lake easily. Who else in their right mind would wear so much dark leathers in the heat of the village. It was far warmer here than it ever got in England. Vaisey had taken a liking to the silk dress shirts of the modern world so he was clad in a dark silver shirt and black leather pants. Sure, he was wearing leather, but not nearly as much as Gisborne and his leather was soft and far more expensive. In his opinion, anyways.
Gisborne pulled the fragments of his muddled mind together. He couldn't appear weak to Vaisey. No. Not with what he'd learned. "My Lord," he said eventually.
He looked the same as he had after he killed Marian. Really, you run one love-of-you-life through with a sword and then the world goes dark a grey. Please. "Deciding if you should go for a swim or not? Didn't really take you for the leisure sort of man." Unless brooding was leisurely.
I'm returning from a little hunting trip. Nothing spectacular, just rabbits. I can clean the pair in my room and give Olore everything I can't use: we make a good team.
There's a man by the lake, one I know and need to speak to as soon as I can. Now... I approach, but realise that Sir Guy is not at his best. By the Valar, is he drunk? I doubt he's in the mood for questions, but he might need a bit of help.
"Sir Guy, what do you out here?" I ask, not too loudly. "You're reeling like a Dwarf in a mithril mine."
He has longbow (not at all like Robin's) and his large boot knife, wearing his clothing from home, which I don't think Guy has seen yet.
If a man sits outside, open to the world, then he should not seem so surprised when someone, perhaps a friend, stops to speak with him.
"It looks like you're very drunk and working toward being ill from it." I'm honest as I ever am. "Dressed as you are and with the weather as it is, doing it outside might cause you to end up in the clinic."
I assess the man before me.
"Or is that what you wish? There are faster ways to get there, you know." Ways that are less damaging in the long run. And likely more immediately painful.
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Plus is was on the approved list of activities, John was still hovering a bit and as much as she appreciated it she was starting to itch for regularity.
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"What do you want?" he growled at seemingly nothing.
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"You invited yourself onto my bench mister."
Good be belligerent to the angry drunk man.
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Which was why she did realize she was heading directly for someone, and that someone was a man in leather, until she felt herself hit a firm wall of leather and flesh and stumbled backwards.
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He debated internally. "There's someone else from Nottingham here," he said carefully.
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There's a man by the lake, one I know and need to speak to as soon as I can. Now... I approach, but realise that Sir Guy is not at his best. By the Valar, is he drunk? I doubt he's in the mood for questions, but he might need a bit of help.
"Sir Guy, what do you out here?" I ask, not too loudly. "You're reeling like a Dwarf in a mithril mine."
He has longbow (not at all like Robin's) and his large boot knife, wearing his clothing from home, which I don't think Guy has seen yet.
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"It looks like you're very drunk and working toward being ill from it." I'm honest as I ever am. "Dressed as you are and with the weather as it is, doing it outside might cause you to end up in the clinic."
I assess the man before me.
"Or is that what you wish? There are faster ways to get there, you know." Ways that are less damaging in the long run. And likely more immediately painful.
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"If I end up ill, so be it," Guy said, taking a swig from the wine skin. "And since this is my choice, what does it matter?"
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