New faces/familiar places [open; go nuts!]

[Allan A'Dale]

Allan stopped by the door of the tavern to scrape the worst of the forest mud from his boots. It was supposed to be summer, but the recent glut of thunderstorms had fairly saturated some of the lower ground in Sherwood. And after all, he did have one or two social mores left.

People had been pouring into Nottingham lately; whether or not it had had anything to do with John's failed wedding wasn't entirely clear. Regardless, tongues had been wagging about the number of newcomers and he'd hardly met any of them. Being an outlaw, and a known one at that, wasn't exactly a sociable state of affairs. If he went wandering round unhooded in the town in broad daylight, he was bound to get collared eventually. He even had to be careful showing his face in the villages. But at night, in the tavern, most people didn't want a fight, or a scene. If he wasn't actively welcome, he usually didn't get thrown out unless he'd done something to deserve it.

He pushed the door open and sauntered up to the bar, ordering a drink. Probably better to get comfortable before he starting nosing into people's business.

[Devon Creek]

Devon once again found herself at the Trip Inn. She'd managed to sneak away from Clun once night had fallen. She didn't know how Morgan would feel about her absence, but what he didn't know couldn't hurt him. That wasn't to say that she kept a lot of things from him, she did almost trust him after all. But he'd warned her not to use her other skills while working for him and sometimes they just got the better of her.
Her skirt danced around her ankles as she opened the door. It was the same green one she'd borrowed from the tavern girl a few weeks back. A gust of wind rushed through the door, tousling her hair lightly. Patting it back into place, she looked about the warm pub and was glad to see it was full. This is more like it, she thought and as she artfully bumped into a man and relieved him of his pouch. She tucked the velvet bag into the bosom of her dress and took a seat at the bar. A face caught her eyes a few seats down and she flashed him a winning smile. Sure, it hadn't been two full weeks, but she hadn't gotten herself in to trouble since then.
"What are the odds!" she called down to him, raising her mug in a toast.

[Allan A'Dale]

Allan looked up to see the dark-haired girl who'd done her level best to relieve him of his valulables, and grinned in response, raising his own tankard in salute. Couldn't exactly hold it against her; he'd have done exactly the same in her place.

"Small world, innit?" he remarked by way of greeting, racking his brains trying to remember her name. And she looked like a girl and all, now. It had been the best part of a fortnight since he'd last seen her and a lot had happened since.

It was an unusual name, he knew that; not a person's name in the strictest sense...

A light went on in his head suddenly.

"Devon, right? Devon from York; nice and confusing. Looks like Nottingham's not been too cruel to you since we last met. Like the dress, by the way. Suits you."

[Devon Creek]

"The one and only," she said with a wide smile. Nice to see that he didn't hate her. "Confusing? And I always thought I was more mysterious than confusing. Though I suppose with the hair and attitude..." she shrugged and walked over to him.
"Nottingham has been far from kind, I'll tell you. Last time I came in here it was nearly empty, and the only person there didn't have any money on him. Just my luck, right?" As a thief, she hoped he would know the feeling when things didn't go according to plan. His name popped into her head instantly. Allan, the outlaw that had taken charge when the others found her. She hopped into the empty seat beside him and grinned.
"Flattery won't get you anywhere with me, Allan." She teased him with a light slap on the arm. "But you think so?" she asked, looking down at the green cotton. "I suppose it's better than trousers. For this purpose anyways." Truthfully, she was glad to have the dress. There were always times when she needed to actually look like a girl. And who knows when it would come in handy again.
"What's an outlaw like you doing in here? Isn't this place crawling with people who'd like your pretty head to be dangling from the end of a rope?" Though, she wasn't really safe either. But as long as she was away from York, she was happy and relatively safe.

[Allan A'Dale]

As Devon made her way through the throng he edged to his left to make room. "I dunno, confusing and mysterious go hand in hand in my experience," he replied, taking another mouthful of beer. He almost spat it out again at her next comment.

"Someone in here with no money? Bloody hell, standards are slipping in this place." The barman might not have been fussy about the legal status of his patrons, but Allan remembered a time when an empty purse would have got you kicked out of the door before you could so much as ask for credit. Like the rest of Nottingham, the pub's owner was so hard-up most of the time he wouldn't think twice about getting rid of non-payers.

"Still, you found something, right? I mean, you haven't really got the look of someone who's been living rough. And flattery it may be my friend, but I don't lie."

He paused and reflected on that statement.

"Well, that's one of my biggest yet, but you know what I mean. I'm not one to offer false compliments, trust me."

He put his head on one side as he listened to her question, and grinned.

"Technically, yes. I'm sure there's a good few castle guards and the like in here, but they're not on the clock. The last thing a guard wants to see when he's off duty is something that's gonna put him back on duty. So most of them very carefully don't notice me, and I very carefully don't push my luck. They get paid a pittance and what with the high likelihood of taking an arrow in the shoulder off of our Robin, most of them aren't exactly invested in their jobs." He paused, memories coming back to haunt him. "Although I did come a cropper once in here, big time. There's always a risk, but I like to play the odds."

[Devon Creek]

Devon laughed at his remarks about the castle guards. "You're probably right. You seem like the type I wouldn't want to cross again, judging by our first meeting." Allan wasn't the problem, but the other one was. Prayer boy had been her nickname for the friar.
"Yeah, I've been alright. Working for a guy in Clun. Can't believe that though. If someone told me that one day I'd do an honest day of work, I'd have punched them in the gut. But now, I'm working for the guy for a few pennies a week. It isn't much, but I don't like my chances in Nottingham. Luck really hasn't been on my side since arriving." Wasn't that the truth. It had been a stroke of luck that she'd caught Morgan's eye, and one she was truthfully grateful for. Not that she'd ever tell him that.
Her eyebrows rose when he said he didn't lie and joined in the laughter when he corrected himself. "Do you always treat ladies like this--giving them unnecessary compliments-- or am I an exception?" She took a long sip from her mug and wiped the foam from her upper lip.
"Like to play the odds? I'd say you're a gambling man by those words. You one for pub games?" she asked, thinking of her favourite trick with a couple upturned mugs and a coin.

[Roe]

Roe found himself moving toward the Tripp for his evening's drink and entertainment. He had not seem Thea since he had left her to her new and old weath in Birmingham. He still was not on speaking terms with Isabella. The next time she spoke to him, no doubt it would be her dancing on his grave. So, he was pretty much stuck in the castle in Nottingham doing spy work for Robin and the outlaws, which was a pretty isolated experience.

So watching patrons at the Tripp proved to be his only real form of entertainment. In recent times he had gone about 3 times week. tonight he noticed that it was quite a bit busier than normal. He though that that would mean more thefts than on a normal night, but one never knew. As he worked through the crowd he saw Allan and an unknown woman that he was apparently conversing with. Now, she could have been a 'mark' that Allan was working on, and therefore Allan wouldn't want any interference.

It was also possible that it was someone that Allan was conspiring with on some kind of scheme or con for later in the evening. Again, he wouldn't want any interference from Roe. So, as Roe passed by Allan, and the woman, he made a nod toward Allan in recognition. Miraculously in Roe's mind he found that his normal table against the back wall was unoccupied, so he took possession of it. Shortly thereafter he checked the hiding space for messages, and finding none, leaned back in his chair making what would be the first of many requests fior ale on this night.

[Allan A'Dale]

Allan smiled at her comment about their previous meeting.

"Now who's on the flattery? No, seriously, I been in your situation before. You know what it's like when someone tries to take you for a ride. You gotta tell 'em in no uncertain terms exactly why they don't wanna do it again."

He noticed Carter's friend Roe step into the inn, and smiled to himself as Roe tactfully walked straight past. Allan inclined his head slightly in greeting, but kept it subtle. What with Roe's position in the castle, it was best if they communicated out of sight for the time being. If too many people got wind that Roe was friendly with the outlaws, they'd lose a valulable castle spy.

"Honest work?" he replied with mild surprise, supressing a grin at her 'punch in the gut' remark. "Nice one. Might be a bit tedious but I tell you what, the longer I sleep under a tree the better it looks." He paused for a second, reflecting on what Devon had said. "So who's master of Clun now? Far as I knew the manor house and that lot was all lying empty." It had been under the sheriff's control for a long time, a handy rabble of peasants to tax and press into military service at will. He wondered vaguely whose side the new incumbent would fall on.

He laughed at the accusation of unnecessary compliments. "I dunno, sounds like you're fishing for a few more. You look good; no harm in telling you, eh?" He'd been taken slightly aback at just how womanly she looked now she wasn't in baggy peasant attire. "I would have thought it was the gentlemanly thing to do." He went to take another mouthful, only to find his cup dry, and indicated hers. "How are you doing on that? Want one?"

He signalled to the barman, before turning back to address her. "You could say I'm a betting man. I like to take my chances."

[Devon Creek]

Devon looked up as a rather large man entered the Trip and sent Allan a look when they acknowledged each other. Interesting, and possibly helpful.
"You know each other?" Devon guessed he was a guard, judging by his dark demeanor. "Wouldn't have expected that," she mumbled. "I'll take it to the grave, I swear. Unless, of course I could get a good price for it. Now that would be worth something..." she joked, but held her hands up. "It's a joke. Only kidding!"

Her fingers itched as another man passed by, his pouch just dangling there from his belt. He stopped to talk to the barman just to Devon's right, just inches away from her ready hand. Her foggy gray eyes flickered from Allan to the pouch and weighed her options. If he caught her, she could alway just turn it around on Allan, but what were the chances of her getting caught? So, very quietly and carefully, she removed the pouch from his waist, bumping him with her arm and allowing it to drop on the floor.
"I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, jumping down from her seat and scrambling to gather the coins that now scattered the dirty floor. Her actions couldn't been seen well due to the number of people surrounding her, so she figured she was pretty safe. A good handful were slipped into her sleeve before she handed the pouch back to the man.
"I'm so clumsy," she said apologetically, batting her eyes and the man. When he walked off, she carefully sorted through her winnings and threw them into her bag.
"Old habits?" she said, a small triumphant smile gracing her lips.

She finished her draught and grinned at Allan. "Morgan, he runs the place now. Don't know much about him yet, but he's alright. Likes my cooking, that's for sure. But the place is still pretty run down. Sherwood is probably nicer than the farmhouse at the moment. We're working on it though."
Devon laughed at his remark about being gentlemanly. "Why do I suspect that being gentlemanly isn't your strongest skill?" She waved a hand at him when he offered to pay for her drink, pulling out the stole pouch instead. With a wave, she ordered two more and pushed one his way.
"You said I could buy you one, so I am. Don't say I'm not generous." she warned him with a glare. Allan was turning out be quite an enjoyable person to be around. It was amazing how people's personalities changed when you weren't attacking them, she thought wryly.
"So where's the rest of your lot? The guy with the hat, prayer boy and the big scary one? Or are you on probation?"

[Allan A'Dale]

"Know his face, anyway," Allan replied, wary of making too much of his and Roe's aquaintance. "He's one of the castle boys, but we've got a mate in common. Bit of a temporary truce, or something like that. Think he's knocking about with Gisborne's sister, actually. I ain't seen him in a while." That much was true; him and Roe hadn't crossed paths since he and Carter had had to pull Djaq out of the castle.

He sat back and watched as her attention skipped to the money bag dangling temptingly from its seemingly oblivious owner's belt, curious as to which tack she'd take, and nodded approvingly to himself as she chose the smart route: filch a few rather that just cut the purse. Fool would never even know he'd been robbed; all he'd remember would be a dizzy young woman who'd bought one too many drinks and charmingly apologised.

Once she'd counted her booty and her unsuspecting victim was out of earshot it was safer to speak. "No reason not to keep yourself sharp," he agreed. "Never know when you'll need to resort to a little bit of creative thinking. Although I don't think that trick would work as well for me, blokes tend to look at me funny if I start getting fresh." He snorted a laugh.

The name Morgan rang a bell, he knew. Allan frowned, searching his memory for a face that went with it...

Christ, it was probably almost a month ago now. The day he'd found out about Rosetta's contract with the King. Her and Morgan had met as he travelled into Nottingham. They'd almost spotted him eavesdropping, too. Close call.

"I wouldn't dream of it!" he said in mock-defence, putting his hands up in a gesture of capitulation. "Someone wants to buy me a drink, I don't tend to argue."

He took a sip. "Cheers, anyway. The rest of 'em...I dunno to be honest. I come here more than they do. The big one's John, and the one with a hat is Much - I swear he barely takes that thing off. Prayer boy..." he couldn't say it without sputtering with laughter. "...he's a bit much, ain't he? I reckon it's all that reading they do in the monasteries. So many words in their head that they've just got to get 'em all out again. He's kind of new. Didn't like him at first, but once you get to know him you find out that he's ok underneath. He's just got this way about him that can grate on a person's nerves. So used to preaching and using big words he talks at you. They'll probably be back at the camp; there's not much on at night so it's normally here or home for most of us." He chuckled. "I was er, sort of on probation for a while. I think they trust me again now, but...I made a lot of bad decisions in quick succession and they kicked me out for a bit."

That wasn't really even the half of it, but he wasn't even sure how she'd react to what had really happened, and he was enjoying himself too much to start pissing her off now.

[Devon Creek]

"Knocking about?" Devon asked, looking over her shoulder at the man. Well, well, you learn something new every day. Although she didn't know who Gisborne was, the way Allan had said it told her everything.

"Nice to see someone agrees with me. You wouldn't believe the slack I get from people, even my family! Well, as of recently." She rolled her eyes but grinned nonetheless. "I suppose that would throw most blokes off," she laughed with Allan, then tipped her brew against his.

"Cheers. Much? What sort of name is that? Interesting to say the least... I see what you mean about Prayer Boy, though I might be biased. So, you're a regular here?"

Devon suspected there was more than just a few mistakes, but she just smiled. "Happens to the best of us, believe me." She rolled up the sleeve of her dress to reveal three circles, one above the other, trailing up her forearm. Inside of each was a different symbol, the first was a triangle, then another circle and the last was an equilateral cross. They were branded into her skin, though the had long healed the design was raised from her skin.
"Means I'm outlawed in three shires. York, Scarborough and Durham. If I ever set foot in them, I'll be in the gallows before I could blink. Just mistakes on my part, though." With a shrug, she took another big sip and spun around to watch the rest of the pub. She could feel the beer having some effect on her, her cheeks were slightly flushed and her vision wasn't exactly straight.

"But I say live and let live, eh? Why dwell on the past? S'already happened, hasn't it?" she said a bit too loudly. Despite her upfront attitude, she could never hold her alcohol well.

[Allan A'Dale]

Allan grinned. "I know, right? Never met anyone else before or since named Much, but it suits him, somehow."

His initial reaction to her question was to deny his barfly status, but he realised it wouldn't be entirely accurate. Although he'd been known to stay away from here for weeks on end, it wasn't down to disinterest; more that his thirst for freedom outweighed that for alcohol.

"I'm as regular here as I can be, although sometimes I play it safe for a month or so after a big job. Don't want to be in people's thoughts too much, you get me?"

When she rolled up her sleeve he raised his eyebrows and whistled between his teeth. He felt a sudden overpowering rush of sympathy for Devon, but it was accompanied by a strong suspicion that making a big fuss wouldn't be exactly well-recieved.

"Three counties. Not bad; that's a lot of travelling, eh? I've been pretty lucky so far; usually manage to skip town before people get to know my face."

He lifted a finger and traced it gently over the raised skin on her arm. "Never got one of those. I was headed straight for the noose, they didn't want to waste the coals marking me. You healed alright though, by the looks of it. I don't even want to think about how much it must've hurt."

She was...strong, this one. Allan couldn't help feel a kinship with her; a girl after his own heart. He'd known men to buckle under less.

"The past is another country," he agreed. "You want to get on in life, you have to look forwards."

He looked sideways instead. She'd turned, was leaning back against the bar, eyeballing the room. He stole a good look at her, studying her profile. Delicate bone structure, creamy skin tinging pink at her cheeks; surely only a blind man would ever fall for her 'boy' ruse.

He was staring now, probably. Not good. Lifting his mug again, he was surprised how much he'd put away already. "So, I was right, yeah? Your family's back in York?"

[Allan A'Dale]

Allan grinned. "I know, right? Never met anyone else before or since named Much, but it suits him, somehow."

His initial reaction to her question was to deny his barfly status, but he realised it wouldn't be entirely accurate. Although he'd been known to stay away from here for weeks on end, it wasn't down to disinterest; more that his thirst for freedom outweighed that for alcohol.

"I'm as regular here as I can be, although sometimes I play it safe for a month or so after a big job. Don't want to be in people's thoughts too much, you get me?"

When she rolled up her sleeve he raised his eyebrows and whistled between his teeth. He felt a sudden overpowering rush of sympathy for Devon, but it was accompanied by a strong suspicion that making a big fuss wouldn't be exactly well-recieved.

"Three counties. Not bad; that's a lot of travelling, eh? I've been pretty lucky so far; usually manage to skip town before people get to know my face."

He lifted a finger and traced it gently over the raised skin on her arm. "Never got one of those. I was headed straight for the noose, they didn't want to waste the coals marking me. You healed alright though, by the looks of it. I don't even want to think about how much it must've hurt."

She was...strong, this one. Allan couldn't help feel a kinship with her; a girl after his own heart. He'd known men to buckle under less.

"The past is another country," he agreed. "You want to get on in life, you have to look forwards."

He looked sideways instead. She'd turned, was leaning back against the bar, eyeballing the room. He stole a good look at her, studying her profile. Delicate bone structure, creamy skin tinging pink at her cheeks; surely only a blind man would ever fall for her 'boy' ruse.

He was staring now, probably. Not good. Lifting his mug again, he was surprised how much he'd put away already. "So, I was right, yeah? Your family's back in York?"

[Devon Creek]

When Allan's fingers traced the marks on her skin, it felt nice. Not the tingling most people would think of, but nice in a warm way. "Yeah, they hurt like hell to get, but they've healed. I like to think of them as reminders. My brother, on the other hand, prefers to think that they are signs of my stupidity."

Devon didn't feel Allan's stare until she spun back around. Ordering another brew she asked, "What you staring at?" Her voice was light and teasing and probably louder than she would have hoped.

At his question about family, she cringed. Normally she would have just left it at that and moved on, but the beer was still having its effects on her and before she knew it she was telling him her whole story. "Yeah, I've got, though I prefer not to think about them. You see, not all I told you back in Sherwood was a lie. Most of it, but not all. We all used to live in York, traveling around when the guards got too close or when tax-time came around. But we all grew up stealing. It's the lifestyle I've always known. But after these," she pointed to her arm and then her hair, "they decided to have a change of heart. Both my parents and both my brothers gave up the life they had before and traded it in for a good, clean, honest one." She scoffed loudly and sneered down at her tankard. "Apparently they did it for me, I don't believe them though. How can I when all we ever did before was lie? They wanted me to do the same and live with them in York, but I couldn't. And not just because I'd be hanged, but because you can't make a clean break from this life, you know? I don't think there's such a thing as a change of heart, not completely. Just look at me before, I can't held but steal. I've already taken from Morgan and he's done nothing but help. I don't even think they want me back anymore, which is fine because I'd rather string myself up in the gallows than live back there. Do you know what they're doing now? Working for the Sheriff, in the dungeons! If they work for him, he'll wipe their records clean. I couldn't do that, one second down there and every thief in the building would be roaming free.
You know what I mean?" She looked down into her mug at the foamy liquid and quickly drained it all. "I hate my family," she muttered slowly then looked at Allan for some kind of understanding. Maybe he would understand. Not that she needed anyone to understand her, she was just fine by herself, but it would be nice.

[Allan A'Dale]

Allan pulled a face when Devon mentioned her brother. It had to be something about brothers; his own had been just as bad. "Yeah, well it's easy for them to rub your face in it after the fact. Never mind that they would've done the same, or worse. Siblings...they always wanna come out on top. If you done something wrong, they won't let you live it down till the day you die." Or they do. Poor bastard. He hadn't exactly got on well with Tom for the most part, despite how long they'd stuck together, but family was family.

He laughed as Devon signalled to the barman, deliberately not looking away this time. "Just enjoying the view. No law against that, right?"

He glanced into his barely half-empty pint. "Looks like I've got some catching up to do." Lifting it to his lips, he took another deep draught.

When she admitted she hadn't been entirely honest in their first meeting, he wasn't particularly surprised. Why tell strangers what you don't have to? It wasn't as if they could have sent a messenger to check up on her.

Allan couldn't help but smile in agreement over changes of heart. Under Gisborne he'd still kept his hand in, pickpocketing the stupid guards wandering the castle. If he'd been caught...Christ knows what Guy would have done. But once you'd had to fend for yourself for a while, you didn't trust anyone else. Nothing lasted for ever, and only a fool believed it did. As with Robin, so with Gisborne; he'd always kept an eye on the what ifs. A smart person kept something aside for when everything went to Hell - which it inevitably did.

The disgust in her voice when Devon spoke of her family's loyalty to the Sheriff of York was palpable. Allan looked away and drained his drink. It was too similar to Robin's...Will's...everyone's. Guilt seeped into him; he was no better, really. Although...that time that Will and the weird jester got rumbled...he'd seen the cheeky bugger filch his key and kept his trap shut. And he'd come through when it counted, that was true enough.

"I think you've got a right to hate 'em," he said honestly. The outlaws had had right enough to hate him - and they had. "They say they're doin' it for you, but they're giving you no choice. If they're already working for the law, they've sided against you, pure an' simple."

He fought an overpowering urge to ruffle her hair. "Anyway, more girls should have short hair. I like it."