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Allan watched as the dice hit the table, the familiar clink of the wooden objects striking the equally wooden table music to his ears. Dice were tricky things. He had yet to find a way to cheat in any effective way with them. Substitution wouldn’t remain unnoticed and there was no humanly possible method to insure the carved numbers would come up in your favor. Allan’s games were the games he could win with some handy, unnoticed act of prestidigitation, warming up the crowd and leaving a few coins richer. No, dice weren’t easily won over and you had to rely on luck or providence to see you threw. Luckily, Allan knew the first was in the bag eight times out of ten. Even when he stood to lose a finger for poaching on the king’s land Robin had stepped in to save the day. Allan had gotten out of many scrapes by his own hand or under miraculous circumstances and there was no reason to think he’d walk away tonight without a little something in his pocket.

Of the five dice his neighbor had thrown the two threes, a six, one, and four provided some challenge. Yet things were looking up this round. All Allan had to do was score below the fifteen from the first player to take away the nice little pile of gold at the center of their circle. This was gambling at its finest, pure luck. Taking the dice in his hand, he threw them down, sending up some sort of prayer to whatever greater power there was that would let him win tonight. Djaq might claim Allah, Much God but it didn’t really matter as long as he took something back to camp early tomorrow. Allan had little desire to spend additional time conning these men out of their money this late in some other game so he’d be prudent where he could for the sake of his own small stash of gold in the forest.

Allan’s first roll wasn’t to his advantage but the subsequent four rolls saw an improvement of his luck leaving him with a total twelve and the pot. A shrug and a grin that was far too similar to that which he displayed after he’d conned someone and they knew it crossed his face. Of course, this time, he hadn’t conned anyone; it was luck, simple as that. This entire venture tonight was out of the ordinary. There was usually a dangerous adventure they were planning or executing that required sleep or running about Nottinghamshire but tonight, as the others slept, Allan had snuck away. The others did it on occasion; they all knew it. Robin used to sneak off to visit Marian, Little John on occasion to watch over his wife and child, Allan to get a well deserved drink and some fun. The only difference in this situation is that he was sure Robin had little idea of how often he slunk away from camp on some expedition of his own. Whether in a mission or at night, Allan found himself in this tavern more and more lately. He wasn’t sure if it was safe but it was a taste of freedom, a taste of his old life. What else did he have to cling to of his earlier years? His brother and father dead. His mother abandoned him. Robin wouldn’t approve, of course. Allan’s face could become more recognizable and questions were sure to arise. But for now Allan wanted to live not to remember his obligations to the gang.

Watching the table clear itself of all but the man who had rolled the fifteen and himself, Allan waited for the next set to fill in for a game. It had been years since he put himself at such a statistical disadvantage as he was placing himself in tonight and he didn’t get the same rush out of it as he did conning or even pick pocketing. As the players took their turns the others would talk but very few of the men tonight had kept his attention. The pretty young barmaid and her brunette waves were far more interesting. Catching the woman’s attention, Allan gave her a winsome grin and ordered another ale to which she promptly obliged him. Well, if all else failed tonight he was sure he could get a place to stay before heading out in the early morning hours back to the safety of Sherwood Forest.

things had been pretty quiet lately, which was very strange indeed. normally in nottingham, all hell was breaking loose and there was constant fights with the sheriff but not today. not for quite a while recently. this was either good news or bad news. belle didn't know. she had never really been a pessimist or anything but she had a feeling that maybe she should just be wary and sleep with one eye open. she didn't want to tell anyone else with her trivial worries as they would most probably just tell her to calm down and include some sort of proverb in the same sentence.

belle wondered if the sheriff was hatching some sort of devious plan. to keep the gang waiting on tenterhooks and then at the last moment, when they were least expecting it, he would attack. of course, it would be pretty hard seeing as he didn't have the first clue as to where the camp was but still, his lack of action made belle nervous. some of the gang were probably relieved. they could have a break for once, instead of fighting that devil of a sheriff. peace was rare, and when it usually came everyone treasured it and used the time to relax and help the poor more. of course, there was always a part of them that was still alert but most of them were just calm about it. normally, belle wasn't included in that group.

she decided to go to the jerusalem inn. a few times before, one or more members of the band had found out valuable information that had helped slow down the sheriff numerous times. leaving the camp in silence, belle made her way towards Nottingham. she didn't take jack, her horse, as she wanted to look as inconspicuous and as much like a peasant as possible. it was a long walk and belle ran most of the way. she arrived there a bit out of breath and her cheeks slightly flushed. she saw the inn and a wave of foolishness surged through her and she realised how stupid and paranoid she must be. here she was, acting like a spy of some sorts when robin hadn't even requested a spy. she had probably travelled all the way for absolutely nothing! and then there was going to be the journey back. belle groaned inwardly. well, she had come this far. it was worth a shot.

she entered the inn and took her hood down. immediately she was hit by the smell of ale and the sounds of the villagers yelling shocking profanities at one another. the bartender did not look like he was going to make a move to stop anything if a fight were to break out. she couldn't see any of the sheriff's men and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. she opened her eyes, which then widened as she spotted allan amongst a crowd of gamblers. what was he doing here? she began to make her way across but she w as stopped halfway by a greasy-haired man with a toothless grin. "how about a drink, love?" he asked. belle's heart sped up slightly. "um...no thank you," she said politely and tried to get past him but he grabbed onto her elbow. she remembered experiencing something like this before when she was forced to work in the sheriff's stables. "please let me go!" she gasped, desperately struggling to free herself of his grip.

Tonight seemed to be a night for outlaws in Nottingham. Normally Adam felt awkward and guilty leaving the camp for his own excursions – he still felt the need to prove himself and his dedication to the cause, and the way to do that always appeared to be staying in camp listening to Robin’s ‘rousing’ speeches or plotting the next raid on the castle with gusto, without any thought of being elsewhere. Tonight was completely different as Adam had found himself approaching a close to empty camp and deciding in an instant, had turned his tail and headed for Nottingham before he entered the camp. For all his enthusiasm for the legend and that cause, Adam could not stomach the idea of hearing one of Robin’s more despondent talks alone, or even just a discussion of the King, whose constant presence in the thoughts and words of the gang was beginning to grate. Perhaps if Adam told them, or maybe just Much or Robin, the history of his dislike of the King they wouldn’t keep enthusing about the man around him, but as it was Adam could only imagine they thought him sour about the matter of the ransom or the long and expensive Crusades rather than anything more sinister. Indeed, no one had yet linked him closely with York, and thus there was little chance of them realising alone exactly why Adam’s jaws locked at any mention of Richard.

Adam could not claim to be close to any of the gang as such. He felt too acutely his imposition – Adam could not imagine many had forced themselves into the legend as he had with his hope and his knowledge – and now could not follow it through with the individuals and merely sat by the fire, participated in missions and kept to himself. He wasn’t unwilling, simply shy after his initial push, and felt his intrusion more keenly than he should have, imagining every casual glance to be an accusing stare. It was mostly his own damn fault – after all, sneaking off to Nottingham was hardly an attempt to connect with his fellow outlaws – but he wasn’t entirely delusional, there had been some hostility at first, and there were still things he didn’t know that distanced him from them and that no one seemed to want to enlighten him about. The woman was just one example – Adam knew there must have been one once, Robin was simply too moody sometimes for it to be otherwise, and Adam had seen enough of the world to understand what the whispers he was never party to must have been about, and yet no one had filled him in. One of these days Adam was sure he would totally put his foot in it and either get punched in the face or break the ice, possibly both, but until then he was left in the dark.

It was strange then for Adam to find himself drawn to the very people he was not-quite-avoiding. He hadn’t been back to the Trip Inn since his storytelling debut, after the episode with the guard and coming a little too close for comfort to the reality of being an outlaw in Nottingham. The mood, like everything else, seemed different tonight, though not in a good way – everything seemed more on edge, as if every man and woman in the place was involved in needless brinkmanship, pushing each other to a fight with no just cause. Adam put it down to the weather – from Cork to Coventry, the close oppressive heat more common in summer than these early months always seemed to bring out the worst and wildest in people, it made waiting and silence uncomfortable and cruel, and he could not wait for the storm that would release the tension adequately. For a moment Adam wondered if he had made the wrong choice and if he should scurry back to camp to avoid a fight and the danger that brought. However, he’d not been in the place half a minute before he spotted Allan, quite the centre of attention amongst the gamblers, and he was more relieved than anything to realise that tonight at least the general focus lay with games and bets rather than tales – for all that Adam loved to tell a story, he didn’t want to bring down any attention on himself when it was unnecessary or foolish. Allan was an old hand at the outlaw game too and had more experience escaping the town, which made him both more adept at mingling in society without a care and a person Adam was glad to keep within his sights whenever he came to the walled town. If the worst came to the worst he could always follow the taller man out. Yes, Allan was someone Adam thoroughly admired and appreciated, despite the rather obvious differences in their temperaments. For a moment before he approached the bar Adam merely watched Allan play, wondering how anyone could dare to challenge a man clearly so in his element when a pair of dice were in his hands.

Gambling itself had never interested Adam, being too poor a liar to ever make anything more than a loss at any table up and down the country, but he had no objection to it as a sport, pursuit or even escape from ordinary life. Adam was not the type to take upon himself the role of judge, knowing full well how hypocritical it was. He had had his own escape from the fire and brimstone of his memories in a similar vice, and he could hardly claim to have left it behind as he nodded to the woman behind the bar and received in return for his smile and coin a large tankard of cheap ale to ease himself into the night. It was not particularly good, as the price suggested, but it was enough to whet the whistle, as his father would have said, inhaling the nearest flagon rather than drinking it. Indeed, he was just turning to begin a conversation about nothing with the man seated beside him near the bar when a flash of a familiar face caught his eye and he found himself swallowing slightly more of the thin drink than he had intended. After only a modest splutter though he was on his feet and heading through the crowd before his mind had thought of anything like the right words to diffuse the situation.

Even when he’d got there he hadn’t found the perfect phrase, but given the situation that was hardly unusual. Had he been someone other than himself, perhaps more like Allan, perhaps not, he might have ‘claimed’ Belle as his own, or some such tactic. As it was he merely sidled up to the pair and, drawing himself up to his full height which was not unimpressive, if not extraordinary, and gripped the man’s wrist tightly, allowing his fingers to do all the threatening his face could not. Adam didn’t even attempt to force the had away, focussing his attention on the grip to make it count, though he placed his other in what he hoped was a comforting gesture on Belle’s shoulder. “Trouble, sir?” he asked almost jauntily, neither his face nor his voice betraying any animosity. Adam was not the type of person to show his anger unless his blood was boiling and for all that she was his comrade, Belle’s distress did not set his heart a-pounding just yet. To tell the truth, he was surprised she hadn’t handled it herself, and fully expected to be reprimanded for his gesture in good time. Still, the atmosphere of the tavern worried him, and he spared a glance towards Allan just in case the ‘discussion’ should come to blows and the three should have to fight their way out of the place and run back to Robin and the sensible ones at camp like good little outlaws.

At first Allan was certain he was hearing things but it wasn’t like him to hear voices that weren’t there. Sure, sometimes he swore he heard sounds in the forest when nothing was there but that was part of healthy nerves but voices, and ones belonging to members of the gang, now that was a rarity. Allan swore he never even heard the voices that were coupled with a conscience, though he had one that did make an attempt to speak to him once in a while. Taking a look into his cup, he wondered if perhaps he’d had too much but Allan knew his limits, even if he exceeded them sometimes, and he’d barely made a dent. That meant only one thing and Allan wasn’t sure he liked it.

It took only a moment before his brown eyes locked on the figures of Adam and Belle. Belle’s voice had been the first to reach him across the crowded room as she pleaded to be let go. The very tone and content of her words were what had confused him. There was always the possibility others had snuck away, though why they would come to an inn known to be frequented by the sheriff’s men was a question, but Belle wasn’t some demure maid easily taken advantage of. That any man had grabbed her in any unwanted, rough way made his blood boil in his veins. If Allan a Dale had ever had a sister he would have wanted her to be like Belle, as unrealistic as that would have been given his family situation. She could have stood up for herself and given the man a good deal to ponder the next few days but he wouldn’t wish that situation upon her and he was glad to see Adam next to her.

Adam’s hand was already on Belle’s shoulder, his other gripping the drunkard's wrist as he confronted him, though in Allan’s well-formed opinion this was entirely the wrong way to go about it. It was as hard to be intimidated by Adam as it was to be by Will and that said something…the three were headed for trouble. Allan was quickly evaluating the situation. The room was crowded and if an escape needed to be made the best bet was to have half take the front door and half take the back, an unseen door in the kitchen which Allan only happened to come across after much persuasion upon a lovely blond some years ago, the daughter of the innkeeper no less. The good news was that if they were separated and necessity called, each of them could stand his or her own ground. The situation wasn’t ideal but what one was? Allan had to remind himself that he wasn’t working alone anymore, hadn’t been for years, and he needed to think differently. It wasn’t Allan a Dale swashbuckling out of a tavern, it wasn’t Allan a Dale getting into a fistfight over a woman he’d met the night before; it was Allan a Dale, Isabelle Baker, and Adam Thatcher in need of a safe and sure escape.

Even as Allan confidently walked over to the group he couldn’t help but wonder why Adam hadn’t taken a more assertive and creative approach. What prevented the man with his hand gripping Belle’s elbow from assuming he was just another interested, unrelated party? Adam was putting himself in a position of disadvantage and both he and Belle would suffer for it if the man were interested in Belle in anything more than a cursory way. No, it was best to keep things light but to assert your role. Simply take their lovely comrade by the waist, give her a kiss, state your relationship to the other interested party and walk away. It seemed painfully simple in Allan’s mind but he supposed that wasn’t Adam’s style. Allan actually smirked a little when he thought of Adam explaining to Robin why he’d taken such liberties with another member of the gang. In his favor, Allan cared little for what Robin thought and he was fairly certain Belle wouldn’t mind, though she might give him a good punch for it later. Well worth the risk.

Allan wasted no time in jumping into the center of things once he reached them. The drunkard had released Belle’s elbow at his approach though he suspected more out of curiosity that the scene was taking this unexpected turn than out of any genuine fear. Removing Adam's hand from the man's wrist and interjecting himself into the newly created space between Belle and the drunkard, Allan took the opportunity he was surprised Adam hadn’t taken, taking Belle by the waist and kissing her. It was quick and unexpected and when Allan stepped aside to face the drunkard, arm still about Belle’s waist, he gave Adam but a quick glance as a warning to cease all physical contact before things got complicated. “My wife causing trouble for herself again,” Allan asked with a commiserating smile for the drunkard. Unfortunately the drunk only looked confused, not to mention a little put off.

Releasing Belle’s waist, Allan nodded toward the table he had been sitting at, hoping Adam and Belle would let him settle this before things got unmanageable. Out of sight, out of mind. Keeping Belle out of this man’s way was the main goal and easier for escape if things took a turn for the worst. “Let me buy you a pint,” Allan said, putting a hand on the man’s shoulder and leading him in the direction of a tavern maid and a table on the other side of the room. The man seemed more confused than anything and followed Allan’s lead for a moment before shrugging him off. “Cousin fancies her, you know,” Allan replied to the man’s annoyed expression. “Course, I married her, didn’t I? Hasn’t gotten over it. Thinks he can win her over and they’ll run away to London.” The man looked at Allan curiously for a moment before nodding. “Looked like she wanted some company tonight.” Allan wasn’t sure if the man said it as a means of an apology or excuse or even as a warning to Allan that perhaps he’d already lost ‘his wife’ but Allan was reassured by the look of understanding, even a twinge of sorrow, on the man’s face.

“You must have a sweetheart,” Allan replied in a tone that suggested anything to the contrary would have been ludicrous. The man shook his head in the negative and Allan ordered an ale from a passing maid. “I’m not being funny but I envy you. Freedom to do what you will, not tied to a woman who expects you home every night and when you aren’t follows you out.” The man grunted, obviously not convinced his position was one in the least bit enviable. “Plenty of women here just begging for your attention.” Allan nodded to a passing maid, who looked at his movement and blushed, looking away quickly when Allan and the man looked at her. The man smiled. “Your wife. Don’t let him take her,” he said a little gruffly but appeased. Allan slapped down a couple of coins from a pouch at his side and gave the man a smile and a pat on the back before heading toward Allan and Belle again.

“Thought you two were sleeping,” he said, taking a seat in his former place as if nothing had happened.