Partners in Crime {Allan}

[Devon Creek]

"Not your fault? You were knocking it back fast enough, I'd say it's completely your fault." Devon smirked at Allan, shrugging.

"I guess, but don't lie, you were impressed by much I could put back, weren't you?" she asked, elbowing him in the gut with a snicker. The pressure on his stomach increased when he spoke again, though it was all in fun.

"And well, I had something worth remembering. I had fun, even if it seems you didn't." "I never said I didn't have fun. In fact, I'd say I had so much fun I just forgot about so I won't be let down in the future." Honestly, she was spewing nonsense, but the idea of getting into trouble made her giddy. "Well, I wouldn't say that I haven't seen you in action," Despite her best efforts, she could feel a bit of heat creep up her neck. With a laugh, she stood in front of Allan and put a hand on his arm.

"Now Allan, if you're trying to get me to do that again, you're going to have to do much better than that. I mean, I'm not even drunk this time." She teased him with a silly pout. Ruffling his hair, she took off in the direction he'd pointed, nodding in agreement with his decision to leave his things behind.

"Isn't traveling light the number one rule with people like us?" she asked, knowing she'd never carried more than a dagger and a small bag with her when she'd stolen before. "What else has this Gisborne guy have? Anything good?"

[Allan A'Dale]

"Alright, fine, I was pretty damn impressed," he admitted, trying unsuccessfully to fend off her elbow. "Not many girls can keep up with me, even if they do blank it out afterwards." At what she said next, he laughed. It barely made sense, but he was sure there was a compliment lurking in there somewhere. Her elbow dug in deeper and he swatted her on the nose, trying to get her to let up.

His comment about seeing her in action got a promising rise though. She replied with a teasing grin and a flirtacious gesture. He grinned himself. Looked like that particular door wasn't closed yet. He started walking beside her, making a brisk but sustainable pace. He had no worries about her failing to keep up. They lived the same life, more or less; faced the same challenges. Devon was definitely capable of keeping up with him in more than one department.

"Yeah," he agreed, referring to travelling light. "The less you take there, the more you can carry home, right? Gisborne's got a lot of good stuff, actually. I worked for him for a couple of months so I got to see a lot of his loot. He's got a chest of silver at the foot of his bed. He always used to keep the key hidden in a flour sack in the kitchen, although I dunno if he'd have moved it. He didn't know that I knew it was there - well, if he did, he didn't say anything. And his house is pretty well furnished too. Stable's got a load of horses an' all."

[Devon Creek]

Devon rubbed her hands together, excitement evident in her eyes. She pawed at his nose, trying in vain to get revenge but obviously failing. Instead, she just stuck her tongue out at him and cracked her knuckles.

"Always the bed chamber? Why always there? Most people are such heavy sleepers that it doesn't make a lick of difference where the loot's hidden." She rolled her eyes, smirking. "Sometimes they just make it too easy, though hiding the key in a sack of flour is a good idea." She chewed on her lip, thinking of what she'd want to take. She supposed she'd need a horse in the morning to get out of Nottingham, but her main goal was the money.

She could see the silhouette of a house on the horizon, and given the pace they were going, she assumed this was the place. Her palms started to tickle and she giggled at the familiar sensation. "You know, some people need to have huge houses with scores of servants and horses to feel right, but not me. This where I feel right at home," she nodded to the house, a grin plastered on her face.

"You know the place, so lead the way." She said, but as she spoke, her eyes were already finding escape routes. Three windows on the first floor and the door. She guessed a a back door as well and saw two windows on the upper level.

[Allan A'Dale]

Allan grinned to see the light in Devon's eyes. She was animated and clearly fully of nervous energy. He ducked out of the way of her swipe and laughed as she stuck out her tongue.

"S'a good point," he conceded. "Still, I suppose you're more likely to wake if someone's stealing from your bedroom than if they're taking from your kitchen. Gisborne's not stupid but we've not robbed Locksley manor before, he might be a little bit overconfident. Handy to take advantage of."

Devon giggled, clearly eager to be inside the house, filling her pockets already.

"Well, home is where the heart is," he replied, grinning. His heart was definitely in this, too. Breaking and entering wasn't Robin's style - not unless it involved the castle. But for a long time this had been Allan's bread and butter; a little light burglary, a spot of horse rustling and then away before dawn. Untraceable, no problem.

"I reckon we should try round the back, the kitchen door," he hazarded. "It doesn't bolt as well as the front and the stables are round there too." He paused, then brightened. "He keeps the booze in the kitchen too, maybe we should help ourselves on the way out, just to be polite."

He made his way round the back of the building and rattled the door experimentally. Still pretty loose. Thinking for a second, he pulled his shirt over his head and sat on the ground, wrapping it over his left foot. Once finished, he stood again, took careful aim and gave the door one good boot where the bolt fell across. The cloth muffled the sharp bang somewhat, although he still tensed for a couple of seconds to check no-one had been roused by the noise. He didn't hear anyone stirring, so he rattled the door again and grinned. He'd definitely splintered the door bar. A couple of good shoulder charges and it swung judderingly open, creaking and protesting. Allan turned to Devon and bowed deeply.

"After you, m'lady?"

[Devon Creek]

Devon stifled a laugh with the back of her hand. "I'll leave you to the horses. We don't get along, and this Gisborne fellow will be wide awake if I'm near them." She snorted once, unable to stop it then patted Allan's cheek.

"Just to be polite." She teased then sat back to watched Allan work. When she caught on to what he was planning, she held up a finger and looked at the wall before her. There were a few stones here and there a bit further out that the rest, just calling to her. She reached up and got a grip on one then carefully, but quickly clambered up the wall until she could look into one of the windows.

Luck was apparently on their side tonight as she peered in and saw a sleeping lump on a rather large bed. Taking a seat on the ledge, she looked down and grinned. Allan was shirtless. She'd be lying if she'd said she wasn't enjoying the view and bit her lip to stop from waking Gisborne with her snickers. Allan's foot hit the door and a muffled bang echoed through the place. Devon watched the lump carefully and when it didn't move, she climbed down quietly, jumping the last few feet for the heck of it.

"After you, m'lady?" Devon stood beside him and gave a low wolf whistle. "Now I regret blacking out," she teased, waltzing into the place. It was nice, she'd give him that much. And being Devon, she went straight for where she thought the drinks would be.

"Aha!" she whispered, gathering three wineskins and one she couldn't quite name. "Save the spoils for later?" she asked quietly. The flour sack was just to her right and she knelt beside it. She slid her fingers into the cool grain and searched for the familiar feeling of metal.

[Allan A'Dale]

Allan grinned as she breezed past him into Gisborne's house. She wasn't backwards in coming forwards, and he did like being appreciated, after all. He was glad to know what had already happened between them hadn't made their friendship awkward or uncomfortable. Maybe in part because he was the only one who remembered it, but it didn't seem to stop her giving him the come-on a second time. Allan watched as Devon made a beeline for a cabinet in the corner and pulled out a load of heavy looking skinfuls of wine. He nodded with a smile, letting his old memories of Locksley Manor flow back. "The amount he's usually got stored up, I doubt Giz'll even miss that much."

He wandered around the spacious kitchen as she fished around in the flour sack, poking and nosing to see if there was anything else of interest. He stopped short as he noticed a fruit store, well stocked and plentiful. He grabbed a couple of apples, just for the sake of taking them, and bit decisively into one as he surveyed the rest of the room. Nothing really worth the effort of carrying away, really, unless there was something really good hidden away that he couldn't see. He wasn't about to start taking the whole place apart for the sake of something that may or may not be there though, so instead he made his way quietly to the other kitchen door and opened it a crack, to check the coast was clear on the other side. He knew the servant's quarters were on this floor, not upstairs like Gisborne's, and he didn't really fancy running into any of his old colleagues.

No sign of movement yet; by the way Guy usually worked them they'd probably sleep through an all-out attack on the place. Little point in separating from Devon when she didn't know the building's layout though, so he turned back into the kitchen to see how she was doing.

[Devon Creek]

Devon sifted through the flour, searching greedily for the key. By the time she found it she was up to her elbows in flour. The key was smaller than she'd expected, and worn-looking, but she held it proudly to Allan.

"Time to collect our winnings?" she asked, handing him the key before tucking the wine into her bag. Playfully, she flicked a handful of flour at him before he left for the stairs. Devon knew she had to wise up soon, though. If she was caught by Gisborne, things wouldn't end well. "Wait," she told Allan quickly. She ran back to the door and stowed the wine in one of the bushes.

"More room for the loot." She said with a grin before sobering and glancing at the second floor. She took a deep breath and climbed the stairs quietly with surprising speed. A board creaked beneath her feet and she froze, holding her breath until she was sure Gisborne was still asleep.

"Ready?"

[Allan A'Dale]

She was still rummaging when he turned, so he walked to the sack of flour and crouched down beside, watching her search and desperately hoping the key they sought hadn't been moved from its old hiding place. After a minute or so, Devon triumphantly held up her hand, and in her fingers nestled a tiny silver key.

"Good work," he congratulated her with a tight, nervous grin. His heart was pounding now, the old thrill was rushing through him. He got a light dusting of flour for his troubles and he spluttered for a second, trying to fight back a sneeze.

By the time he was collected again she'd dashed outside briefly and stashed the booze outside. It was nice to be robbing with someone who knew all the tricks of the trade. The rest of the gang were just so...innocent sometimes.

He followed her silently up the stairs, tensing for a heart-stopping minute as a loud groan from the wooden stairs echoed around the main hall of the manor. No-one came to investigate; it was much softer than the racket they'd made getting into the place, but they were right in the heart of enemy territory now and if Gisborne got his hands on them, especially himself, then things were going to be really unpleasant.

"Ready," he assented, and pointed at the entrance to Guy's chambers. "It's that one," he murmered softly, stepping slowly and carefully towards the heavy oak door. He listened for a second or two, his ear pressed firmly against the wood, but all he could hear was the heavy breathing of slumber, occasionally punctuated with gentle rasping snores. He gripped the iron ring of the door handle, twisted and pushed, holding his breath. It swung open easily, making little noise, and he stepped into the lion's den.

[Devon Creek]

Devon, unperturbed by the whole idea, leapt into the room and began nosing about and left the chest for Allan to open. She poked her head behind a fabric curtain and pulled out two nice tunics. Black and thick, they'd be more than enough for the winter. Her hands also found a nice dagger that needed a new home and stowed it safely in the top of her boot.

She was grinning wildly when she turned, adrenaline coursing through her veins. She was giddy and full of energy, so it was no surprise to her when she jumped up and caught the railing of the canopy bed Gisborne was sleeping in and swung to Allan. She perched on the thin bars of the foot board and glanced at the curiously. And because she was feeling daring, she spun and looked down at the sleeping man.

"What to do with you?" she mused loud enough for Allan to hear, allowing him to offer an idea.

[Allan A'Dale]

It seemed that Devon hadn't been anywhere near Gisborne yet, the way she danced merrily into his room. He was clearly sound asleep though; if their breaking in hadn't roused him then Allan doubted that quietly rifling through his belongings was going to cause much of a stir.

He trod carefully and quietly, remembering which boards creaked and which didn't from his months under Guy at Locksley. Without much bother he found a silent path to Gisborne's life savings and sat cross-legged in front of the heavy oak chest, kissing the delicate silver key for good luck. Carefully he slid it into the lock, which, true to Guy and his ways, had been immaculately kept and was well-oiled. He twisted the key gently, not wanting to snap it off in the lock and leave the chest impenetrable, at least to the two of them. Slowly, and with a satisfying clunk Allan heard the pins on the lock settle into place. Yes.


Gently, he lifted the heavy wooden lid of the box and made a triumphant noise under his breath. The silver glittered in the meagre light, dotted here and there with gold. It was a hypnotic sight, but it didn't hold him for long. He shook his head until he came to his senses and started shovelling coins into his leather satchel as quickly and quietly as he could muster.

Devon leapt lightly and pulled her lithe body up with her arms as she swung from the top of Gisborne's fancy bedstead, swinging easily over to him.

"If you wake him up," Allan warned, "you'll regret it. Whatever you're gonna do to that bastard, make sure it's quiet."

[Devon Creek]

Devon grinned impishly at Allan and looked about the room for inspiration. There wasn't much to chose from, a coffer, a bed table and a writing desk were all that really got her attention. But something on the writing desk made her eyes glitter. Sliding down from her post, she handed her bag to Allan.

"I'll be there in a bit," she muttered while lifting and inspecting one of Gisborne's inkwells. "Should do quite well." She pulled the stopper out and dipped on finger in, letting the cool ink cover her digit. Then she stood over Guy's bed and waited until he rolled onto his back.

"Perfect," she hissed and went about her work. She connected his eyebrows with one long swipe of ink and drew and outrageous handlebar mustache above his lip. Her hand was just hovering above his mouth when the lump stirred, eyes opening for a moment. Swearing quietly, she wiped her hand off on his sheets and made a leap for the window. With one foot braced for a jump, she held her arms open for the bags.

"C'mon. We'll get the horses on the way out."

[Allan A'Dale]

Devon had an infectious grin, that much was undeniable. Despite his nerves at being so close to his former master whilst elbows-deep in a chest of his silver, the temptation to do something stupid and very, very annoying to Gisborne was stealing over him too. The room was bare though, little furnishing except for the essentials, and he had no idea what they could pull into use.

However, Devon was on the ball. He half-watched, half-concentrated on shovelling coins into his satchel as she inspected the room, handing over her bag for him to fill. When she grabbed the inkwell he almost burst out laughing, desperately covering his mouth to avoid giving the game away. He could already see where her mind was going and it was hilarious.

Shoving his own laden bag to one side he started on Devon's, throwing the clinking money into it as fast as he dared, trying to keep the noise down to a minimum.

Devon herself was busily engaged in her art, now. Allan looked up at her just in time to see Gisborne's eyes flutter open, his body stirring.

He thought of the rudest swearword he knew, and then threw their booty to Devon, who was already straddling the windowsill. He climbed through the window himself, braced his foot on a timber beam protruding a few inches from the wall and dangled from the sill for a few seconds, judging the fall below. A good seven feet; a big drop, but if he landed alright then it should barely trouble him. Time to find out.

He did his best to roll as he landed and go to his feet with no major damage. "Stay on this side of the house," he whispered to Devon, already running for the stables, "I'll be round to pick you up."

Guy's white stallion snorted at him as he stepped into the stalls. "Well, I'm having you," Allan told it matter-of-factly. There was a brown mare in the stall next door and she looked almost as impressive. Definitely a mount fit for Devon. He cast a glance at the tack lined up against the wall but abandoned the idea; surely Devon had ridden bareback before, it would be just a waste of time to try to saddle and bridle the beasts. He vaulted up onto the back of the stallion, tugging its mane to remind it who was steering who, then stuck an arm out and did the same on the mare beside him. Kicking his heels, he steered the two horses at a walk out of the stables and round to where Devon was hopefully waiting with two fat bags of silver and (at last) some good wine for a change.

[Devon Creek]

Devon caught the bags and threw both over she shoulder. She spotted the beam he'd jumped from and swung from it, landing softly after the drop. Nodding once to Allan, she rummaged through the bushes for their wine.

"I'm going to need you," she muttered to one of the bottles, thinking of the horses. With a bit of a laugh, she took a huge gulp. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she did a rough count of what they had. It was more than enough for both of them. Probably enough to pay off any money over her head back in York. Or it was enough to get a decent meal, a nice night at the Trip and a warm bed that night. Absentmindedly her finger moved through the coins, the soft clink of metal against metal like music to her ears. Her heart was still beating rapidly from a near disaster, but she was beginning to calm and realize that she was going to have to make a decision soon. Very soon, judging by the sound hoof beats.

"Alright," Devon muttered and grabbed a handful of coins, stuffing them into her boot for safe keeping. Just in case money. Allan would understand.

[Allan A'Dale]

The horses were skittish, even the darker one that he'd ridden once before. The white one definitely didn't like him; it tossed its head and snorted as he yanked on its mane, trying his best to steer it. He rounded the corner of the manor to see Devon waiting for him and shushed his mount, hoping it would be happy enough to stop. Thankfully it did, after some persuasion, and the one he'd rustled for Devon seemed content to copy its companion. With effort, he managed to keep both beasts under control. It would be easier when he only had the one to worry about.

"Here, pass me up the bags," he said to Devon, eager to be loaded up and on their way. "You can't very well mount up with armfuls of luggage. Is this one-" he gestured at the mare beside him, "-gonna be alright for you?"

[Devon Creek]

Devon threw the bags up to Allan without protest, thankful that he hadn't seen her little withdrawal. She looked up at the horse in front of her and groaned. Throwing an arm around the top of the beast, she tried to haul herself up, with little success. It wasn't that she hadn't been on horses before, it was just that they never seemed to get along. Devon made the horses skittish, the horses made Devon skittish; it was all just a vicious cycle. Finally, though, with a few failed attempts when the mare had thrown her off, Devon managed to get up. But of course, the steed didn't move a muscle. Even when she dug her heels into its sides.

"Alright, you stupid animal. I swear, you'd better get moving or I will castrate you and feed it to you friend!" On the last word she jabbed her heels into the horse's side and tugged on her mane. It had the desired effect and she was soon galloping off behind Allan. She didn't actually know where they were going and didn't care, so long as it was far from Clun and the man she'd run away from.

"Any idea where we're going?" she asked Allan once they were far enough to speak normally. Her mount was already getting bored of her initial threat and had now settled for eating the grass at her hooves. "You useless clump of fur and hair." She hissed at it, getting off hastily. The less she had to be on that thing the better.