I. The Fourth Drink Instinct [open]

[wellsy]

Simon sat in a corner of the dingy pub. It was fairly busy, so no one paid him much attention. He knew it was risky, that he could be caught, and that the rest of the gang would probably sting him up by his ankles - if not worse - when they found out where he'd been, but he didn't care. The guards had probably forgotten all about his theft a year ago - he hadn't been caught since. They were all more interested in catching Robin Hood and his band of ponses.

Fingering the few coins in his pocket, Simon took a long swig of the beer he'd just bought. The money wasn't his - he'd stolen it off Romeo after the twat had pissed him off. They'd gotten into an argument over something - Simon couldn’t even remember what it'd been about - and Romeo had insisted he was right, when he clearly wasn’t. In the end, Simon had stormed off, taking the small purse beside Romeo's bed without even the slightest twinge of guilt. He shouldn’t have been such an idiot to leave it lying around.

Simon took another mouthful of beer, feeling the rage bubble away in the pit of his stomach. The alcohol would probably make it better rather than worse, but Simon scared even less about that than about being caught.

[Alice Brandon]

Alice normally didn't venture into pubs, but lately she hadn't been doing anything that she normally would be doing. She been taking longer walks in the forest, even though there were thieves who could harm her, and she had been lying more to the guards and the Sheriff as she had more to protect than herself now. Ever since the handsome noble who turned out to be Tristan Ash had walked into her life, her life had been turned upside down. She couldn't stop thinking of him, and was that her fault? Perhaps. But still, she was venturing into this pub now, knowing this was where the thieves occasionally came, hoping to see Tristan, or Simon.

Alice had once known Simon very well. One could say almost friends, except she was a noble and he was just a poor farmer's son. None-the-less. she felt terribly sorry and guilty when he was caught stealing and fled. This all changed when she found out he was now in the company of Tristan himself!

Walking into the pub in her least finest clothing, a simple grey gown and no accessories with her hair done up simply, she quickly scanned the room. It didn't take her long for her eyes to seek out the form of Simon. He was a handsome lad with dark hair and a ladies' charmer's face. Her big brown eyes were wide, but not with fear, as she approached him.

"Simon," she said, her voice low, yet friendly. "Fancy seeing you here," she added. She had seen him on occasion since his disappearance, though the last time was when he robbed her of a simple silver ring. Tristan had ended up giving it back to her.

(((if you don't mind me posting!)))

[wellsy]

Simon looked up sullenly as he heard the voice. The ale dulling his senses, he didn't realise who it was until he set eyes on her. Alice. Great. He felt the rage in his stomach bubble a little stronger. There was the upside that it wasn't someone come to arrest and/or kill him, but he wasn't really thinking about that.

Alice. They'd been friends, years ago, or as close to friends as Simon ever got. It'd been before he'd started hating the world and everything in it. In fact, he was fairly sure that she'd been at least part of the reason he'd ended up the way he had. She'd been his friend, or pretended to be. He'd actually fooled himself that a noble could be friends with a farmer, and maybe, he'd hoped, more. But no. He'd seen her less and less as the years went by, and after he'd fallen in with the greensleeves, he'd abound out about her and Romeo. Whore.

The last time they'd met he'd made sure to make how he felt about here clear, even if Romeo had screwed it up for him. He'd have thought she'd have got the message. "What the hell are you doing here?" He hissed, scowling at her. She was probably just trying to torture him even more than she already had. He didn't know why he'd ever liked her.

[OOC - Yeah, of course its okay =D Alice seems to have caught him in a bad mood, though ^^;;]

[Alice Brandon]

Alice recoiled a little when he responded with what sounded like pure hatred. But then she remembered the last time they had spoken. It had not shown his best side then, though her brain had seemed to block out the terrible memory. She couldn’t help but still care about him. They had been childhood friends and if it hadn’t been for her, Simon would probably have been dead by now. She had convinced her father that it was pointless to send guards to catch him and apparently her father listened to her. A first, surprisingly. Still, she had never told Simon the efforts she made to protect him. She might never tell him, whether to torture herself as if he knew, maybe he wouldn’t be so unpleasant, or maybe because she wouldn’t know how he’d react.

“Simon,” she exclaimed in a whisper, her eyes reflecting the hurt as her mouth turned down into a frown. Not quite a frown, but she did look quite upset. “I was hoping to find you here,” she said, half lying, though it sounded like she was completely sincere. Truthfully, she was hoping to find him or Tristan, but Simon probably wouldn’t like to hear the latter. She always wondered if he was jealous or not. She did used to have a little school girl crush on him when they were children. It was one of the reasons she let him and her grown distant. The other was her father’s fault, and the third was she had been sent away.

“I could say I’ve missed you, though I don’t think you’d believe that.” She had missed him. He had been her only friend in Underwood. He had been the only one she could have been completely herself around. Now, being forced to live in Nottingham Castle was worse than torture itself!

[wellsy]

Simon felt a wave of gratification when Alice flinched away from him. So she should. She couldn’t just flounce back into his life whenever she liked. And she was calling him “Simon”. No one called him that any more - he was just Wellsy. Not that he mourned the lost of his Christian name,

His fingers flexed around the handle of his mug, venting his frustration on the hard wood. He'd always been an innately angry person, but never so violent until he'd fallen in with the Greensleeves. Now his aggression to a new, calculated form, although the ale he was drinking was slowly returning that back to its natural, untamed state - New skills coupling with intrinsic resentment coupled to make Simon very dangerous indeed. Definitely not the sort of character young noble women should be seeking out. But then, he thought, she’d already proven he wasn’t the sort of “character” she wanted to be involved with.

Thinking about that, it made no sense that she had come to seek him out - she’d been distancing herself from him for years, trying to get away, why would she come after him now? And more importantly, how the hell would she have known he was there? He wasn’t a regular at the Sandhills tavern, hadn’t been since he’d been made an outlaw. It was probably a mix between unconscious nostalgia and a desire for beer that brought him back to the tavern, though he could just have easily gone somewhere else.

It wasn’t until her second comment, though, that he decided to respond “I could say I’ve missed you” he said, inclining his head angrily “But it’d be a filthy lie.” He took another deep swig of his ale. He really didn’t need this.

[Alice Brandon]

Alice's big brown eyes began to water slightly, but she would not cry in front of him. When did he turn so cruel? Had it been partial her fault, or had it been life. Sometimes it was so unfair that she was born a noble and others were born poor and unhappy. But hadn't he been a happy child? Alice had memories of laughter and games. There were no more games now. "What have I done?" she asked, her voice soft and like a child's. Hadn't she put herself through enough? Couldn't he see how she hurt herself to talk to him? Didn't that mean anything? Apparently not.

A man came by to take her order, looking her up and down with a grin, but she shook her head. A few other men of dubious connections were staring at her now. It was probably silly of her coming here alone, especially since she would have to leave alone and there were men who wouldn't mind getting her alone. If only she had remembered to bring her knife, but she had lived too long in castles and not enough time in her own village or in others. She looked back at Simon, her face composed, but her eyes full of emotion.

(((sorry it's so short :\ )))

[wellsy]

Simon snorted and turned away when he saw Alice well up. Crocodile tears, he thought. It was probably a technique she used all the time. Daddy wouldn’t buy her a new pony? Turn on the waterworks. Just like every other spoilt noble brat. As if she had one, single idea of what life was like for him, for everyone in his position. Even though he no longer had a roof over his head and had to steal everything he needed, life with the Greensleeves was actually a step up from how things had been before. But Alice hadn’t realised that when they’d actually been close - he doubted she’d open her eyes now.

She sounded so pathetic, asking what she’d done. He curled his lip, not dignifying her question with a response, save a shake of his head. Evidently she couldn’t comprehend the things that happened to the people around her, as if the knowledge was to dirty to come anywhere near her pretty little head. She hadn’t even seemed to have noticed the hungry looks she was getting from other men in the pub. One of them even sauntered up and offered to buy her a drink - accompanied by dirty laughs and claps on the back from the other patrons - but even that didn’t seem to register as a come on. Some part of Simon faired up with jealousy, though he refused to register it as that. The rational part of his mind told him that she’d probably never lowered herself so far as to come into such an establishment before, and didn’t realise that it wasn’t normal practice for you to be offered drinks at your table. Simon folded his arms across his chest, hoping that his stubborn silence would get her to give up and just leave.

[OOC - 's okay, I'm not doing much better at the moment. Anyway - quality over quantity, eh?]

[Alice Brandon]

Alice sighed. This was pointless, why was she trying again? Because maybe she was the type that cared to much. She couldn't help it. It was true she was once called too nice, but was that such a terrible thing? She wasn't going to say she cared about Simon, though it should have been a given. Still, she wanted to try to get to him, to get some sort of reaction out of him other than this blind, passive anger. She didn't want him to be violent though. That wouldn't be good as she couldn't defend herself from him. Another man passed by and she was getting a little nervous, but she wouldn't show it. Would she put herself in danger just to talk to this guy who treated her terribly? And why did she care so much? These were questions she could answer. At the moment she refused to assess the danger and her situation.

"Look Simon, this isn't fair. None of it is. You never told me how bad things had gotten, and by the time you took action, it was too late! Do you blame me for my name and my family, or for me, Alice?" It was a legitimate question. Was he truly mad at her, or what she represented. She had to know, and any rational person could see the truth, even it that person wouldn't say it.

[wellsy]

Simon sneered when she sighed. It was such a petty, petulant gesture, the kind any poor little rich girl would use to get her own way. He turned his head to the side and spat on the floor venomously. Perhaps it wasn’t the sort of thing you did in semi-respectable establishment like the Sandhills, but Simon didn’t really care, and no one around seemed to be paying any attention anyway.

He was getting fed up of sitting with Alice, she was making him feel- he wasn’t sure what she was making him feel but it was certainly unpleasant, and he wanted it to stop. She’d always held some kind of power over him, ever since they were little. There was something about her that just got under his skin. He tuned his head to the side and spat again. Well, he wasn’t going to let her control him any more.

What Alice said next just made him want to get even further away from her, and fast. Simon didn’t even fully understand the question - Alice was evidently getting worked up and spouting a load of tripe the way women usually do - but he got the gist of it. “You have absolutely no idea” He snarled putting his hands on the table to push himself up, and leaning dangerous close to Alice in the process. Grabbing his mug, he stalked over to the bar and slammed it on the wooden counter, mumbling something about another pint. Hopefully the spoilt bitch wouldn’t follow him.

[Alice Brandon]

Alice didn't notice that it was her that was getting on his nerves. Of course she did think that, but what she meant was she didn't think she could always effect him in such a strong way. She watched as he spat twice and that caused a deep emotion in her that she was used to, but had not indulged in quite a while. It was anger and she was furious with Simon. Not caring about the people around her, her dark eyes got darker until they were black, glaring into Simon's handsome, yet annoying face.

The last time Alice was this furious was when her father had sent her to Nottingham Castle. She had come close to throwing a hissy fit, and not only that, she had felt violent. It had scared afterwards. Alice generally couldn't hurt a fly, but in desperate times she could pack a pretty hard punch. That didn't mean she wanted to punch Simon, but she had to get that terrible look off his face. He suddenly stood up, glowering down at her and she could feel the anger swelling in her, her heart pounding faster. She then watched him walk away and sat for a second before standing herself.

She walked over to him, glowering herself. She came up close and slapped him. Most normal people would have slapped him earlier, either when he was spitting, or speaking harshly, but Alice still was the type to sit and debate. She was not spontaneous enough and that's why she waited until he walked away. She knew she would regret it if she didn't as she really wanted to, but now she regretted doing it. "No, I don't, but that's not my fault," she hissed, her voice low as she stared at him.

[wellsy]

Simon kicked at the skirting of the bar impatiently as the man poured his beer, doing more damage to his foot than the wood it was connecting with, but he didn't care. He was too riled up to notice the pain. He'd told himself he wasn't going to let Alice get to him, but here he was, stewing like a slaughtered rabbit. It made him so mad that that stupid woman could have such an effect on him. Of course, he knew he could get angry, he revelled in it, he was quite happy to punch someone it the face, but with Alice he wasn't sure whether it was her he wanted to punch, or himself, and he hated that. He hadn't been designed for complex introspection, it was so much easier when it was just a case of hitting whatever was closest to you.

But Alice soon cleared things up for him.

He was barely aware of the sting of the slap, more powerful than he would have expected, before he was dealing out one of his own, catching Alice across the face with a hard backhand. He turned back furiously to the bar, gulping down his drink in one and thrusting it back at the bartender for another. He didn't look back at what he'd done. Fury was still pumping through his veins and it was talking all of what little self control he had to keep his fists clenched to the bar top rather than buried in the stomach of anyone he could lay his hands on.

[Alice Brandon]

Alice stumbled and nearly fell, though she took the backhand very gracefully for a woman of her rank. There was no awkward stumbling, but instead she easily caught herself and righted herself up again. The sting on her cheek hurt, though she blinked back tears of pain, setting her face like stone. She would not show the shock or pain of his slap. She could already feel a bruise forming. It would be a dark purple with the edges a sickly green by tomorrow morning. Right now it was only a deeper purple. It was a good thing she healed quickly when it came to bruises. Still, she would have to explain that one. Maybe she fell, or one of the guards hadn't seen her coming and knocked into her. She was so small the latter seemed plausible. Still, she couldn't stand next to Simon much longer.

Alice did stay where she was, though. Just to say a few last words. "You did not become the man I thought you would become," she said in a low, serious voice. She did not look like an innocent little child right now, but maybe Athena herself, more powerful than what she appeared to be. "I should have let father go after you and kill you when you stole that loaf of bread." She looked at him, even though he wasn't looking at her. "I suppose I did make a mistake after all." With that she turned around, ready to walk out of the tavern. By now she had forgotten about the scary looking men whose eyes were plastered to her. She just wanted to get out of there to cry.

[wellsy]

Simon felt something hideously like regret fizzle around his nerve endings as he stood at the bar, necking his third mug of ale. He was aware of Alice’s presence behind him, almost painfully so, and had to force himself not to turn round to look at her. He wasn't entirely sure what'd happen if he did. Anger was still sparking like black powder through the fibre of his very being, fuzzing out his mind and preventing rational thought. And the Ale wasn't helping. Not that Simon cared - he slammed the mug back on the wooden top of the bar, just as Alice regained her composure enough to talk to him.

A sneer sprang automatically to Simon's lips at the first thing she said. No, he probably wasn't what she thought he should be. In her plush fantasy world of big dresses and handsome princes, someone like him would probably be shot before allowed within ten miles of the enchanted castle. He liked that. He liked that he could destroy her stupid delusions of what the world was like. Well, if he didn’t open her eyes, someone else would.

But the sneer disappeared almost immediately when she mentioned his escape. He clenched his fists and strode after her, grabbing her arm just outside the tavern as the door banged shut behind them. His eyes glinted malevolently. Most of the time, in the Sandhills, you kept yourself to yourself and didn’t intrude in anyone else’s business - no one would have cared about the pair of slaps that had just been exchanged. But at least it was some protection. Out here there was no one, and as the heavy tavern door had swung shut it had muted almost all of the noise from inside. He wondered if anyone would hear a scream from where they were.

"You have no idea" He hissed, pulling Alice closer to him so she had to listen to what he was saying "You have no bloody idea. You think that a few whispers in daddy’s ear is what meant I could get away? I fought for my freedom. My world doesn’t revolve around you any more, Alice." Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was just the words of the girl he used to be so close to, but before he’d had time for coherent thought, he'd shifted his grip up to her shoulders and pushed her hard against the tavern wall, before leaning in to kiss her ferociously on the lips.

[OOC - hope that's okay. Si's being a bit of a rogue x3]

[Alice Brandon]

Alice was close to fuming as she walked out of the tavern. She didn’t hear Simon follow her, but she felt his hand on her arm as he spun her around. She knew there would be a bruise on her arm by tomorrow. It seemed very dangerous talking to Simon these days. First the bruise on her cheek, which was her fault. She had to go and slap him first. He seemed to bring the worst out in her. And now the bruise on her arm. It was a shame she was such a delicate person, but she was not delicate on the inside.

She nearly recoiled when he pulled her closer to him. His breath smelled of ale and she wondered if the ale had affected his mood or actions. He didn’t seem drunk. But after a second two her body seemed to not mind being so close, though her mind did. It was so confusing as he was an attractive man, but her mind knew that she didn’t like his personality at the moment. Still, it almost felt like the old days, despite the violence in his voice and gestures.

“I never thought it revolved around me,” she said truthfully, looking up at him, her face serious. Her lips were set tight together, a slight defiance glinting in her eyes. Suddenly she felt his hands grip her shoulders as she was shoved against the tavern wall. She was about to bring her hand up to punch him, thinking he was going to attack her, but instead he kissed her. The kiss felt almost like an attack itself since it was violent as well. Could Simon do anything with out violence?

The kiss had taken Alice so off guard that she didn’t know how to react. She didn’t want to anger him, but at the same time she didn’t know what would, and in the pit of her stomach and in the back of her mind, there was something that liked him kissing her. Perhaps she kissed him back, perhaps she didn’t. She couldn’t remember, but she was able to bring her arms up and push pathetically against his chest. Her mind and body was at war with itself. Yes she used to like him and yes she used to think about kissing him, but things had changed since her childhood, hadn’t they?

[Tristan Ash]

Trouble had an exceptionally unsavoury habit of finding Tristan Ash. Whilst he was a good man at heart and had kept himself on the right side of the law for many years before it eroded, he had always managed to get into some dilemma or another. He had been challenged to duels because he was unable to silence his sharp tongue, chastised by his parents for behaving brashly (when he thought he was being ‘dashing’) and so many other numerous mishaps that he could hardly recount them all. On this evening, however, as the moon waned high over Sherwood forest and the young man in question trudged resolutely towards Underwood, Tristan Ash was determined to seek Trouble out before she could find him.

Simon was a rogue and a danger to the Greensleeves. Whilst he was surely an outlaw just like the rest of them, Wells seemed to think that this made him a law unto himself and he did as he pleased when he pleased, thinking little of the consequences. Tristan, who was used to authority and bowed to it with relevant ease, could not abide this lawlessness in one of his companions. When he had noticed that his purse had gone missing, however, he knew exactly who had taken it. Bent on resolving the matter in the first instance and then attempting to inform the rest of the Greensleeves that Simon could not be trusted, he had taken off in the direction Wells would most likely have taken. Underwood.

The village itself was relatively quiet, with the villagers either having already sought their beds or in the small, ill-reputed inn trying to earn a few coins. Tristan judged none of them; they did what they could to make ends meet and if a mother had to dally with a man other than her husband to feed her children it was all the more shame on Vaysey. Tristan hated Vaysey, and blatantly refused to label him ‘Sheriff’ and saddle hi with all the esteemed glory that position implied. Vaysey was a rotten cad, a pathetic excuse for a man and Tristan would have very much liked to run him through. He was given a different target for his angst, however, when he approached the door of the tavern only to clap his eyes directly onto Simon Wells and Alice Brandon, his latest love interest.

Kissing.

Tristan was no fool. He knew just as well as anyone did that the pair knew each other from a time before Vaysey’s sadistic reign. He had not, however, contemplated the manner of their acquaintance and now that he stood with his feet cemented in position and gaping at their actions he could not help but feel the fool. His nickname Romeo had been well earned, and he had professed in his earlier days as a man who was untouched by women except in the Biblical sense. Alice, he begrudgingly had admitted, had crept under his skin and now here she was – apparently attempting to do the same (or worse!) with Simon Wells.

Embarrassed and disgusted Tristan turned on his heel to flee the courtyard. Damn them both, and he hoped Simon drank himself into an early grave with his stolen money! As many an enraged, embarrassed person has a habit of doing, however, Tristan had not been watching where he was going and he collided with a barmaid carrying a tray full of empty ale pots inside. The noise was tremendous and he realised now that any chance of escape and saving dignity was lost. He would have much preferred to corner each party alone and confront them, but now he saw no choice but to take immediate action. In several swift, graceful steps Tristan crossed the way and lunged to catch hold of Simon’s collar. He pulled to wrench the pair apart (further than they already were, at any rate) and then his fist lashed out with Simon’s eye in sight.

((Thought I would leave it up to you whether the punch connects or not, Mal. XD))