“You know, Robin,” Will observed. “I think that I would like to lead the raid on the Sheriff of Nottingham’s storehouse tomorrow.”
“No problem,” Robin replied. “But are you sure? Whoever pulls off that raid is going to have a lot of heat rained down on his head. You’re usually in the background, you know, not one of the major players that Prince John wants to hang.”
“That’s the problem,” said Will, slightly annoyed. "It’s always Robin did this and Robin did that. You get the kudos and I get “. . . that other guy, what’s-his-name, that red tunic guy, who is he?”
Thinking about it for a moment, Robin said, "There’s a downside to being the main character, everybody on the other side wants to kill you. But I see your point. I think you should lead the raid.
Two weeks later, Robin and Will sat, their backs to a tree.
“Sombody took a shot at me today,” Will observed. "Almost killed me. It’s those “wanted posters” 500 pounds is a lot of cash. I need to lay low."
“No pleasing some people,” Robin mused.