It wasn't meant to go like this. This wasn't supposed to happen. He was just doing what he was told- he never meant. Allan shuddered... why did this stuff always happen to him? It wasn't fair, wasn't right. His instructions had been simple, and he'd followed them... so why was he here now? Scarred. All he did was go to find Will and Djaq. That was all he had done, so why was he sitting alone- in a river? He tried not to think back- tried not to remember what their faces had looked like. They acted so high and mighty, but he saw them. Caught in the act they were, and no doubt this'd be turned on him. He unwillingly recounted the events that had taken place. He, Allan a Dale- good with nuns, babies and other small creatures- had been instructed to fetch Will and Djaq for an ambush. So he, Allan a Dale, had gone to find said outlaws. When he found them he called out, and heard cursing of all things- thinking something must be wrong- after all how often did you hear Will Scarlet curse? He hurried to their location and the sight before him he would never forget. Never ever- it would plague his mind, his dreams, which would cause him to cry out and Much to hit him over the head in the night. Will and Djaq, caught in the act. Will had his under shirt around his head and had presumably tried to pull it over his head as he had walked in. Djaq, the virtuous beast she was, was holding her shirt in front of her...ahem...'womanhood' looking scandalised. And he, Allan a Dale, had stood, unable to move or form words to fit how he was feeling at that particular moment. Will had looked about to talk, but Allan held up his hand, not looking at either of them, speechless, and turned to walk away. Safe to say- things would never be the same.