( apparently, some skills are like riding a bike. they come back to you, no matter how long it's been since you used them. no matter how long it's been that you believed you were someone else. despite decades as a sheriff of a sleepy town where nothing happened, the Huntsman is not so easy to be forgotten. at least, not any longer. it's funny how the curse ripped away who he was so easily, and now that he might not want those memories back, he can't shake them.

at least in some instances it's a good thing. sneaking around had once been for hunting. they had better hearing than most humans, so those skills translated perfectly. he can't quite go unarmed, yet he doesn't hope for a fight. if he does this right there shouldn't be opportunity.

if he sees someone else that intends to infiltrate, he might not be opposed... as long as you can keep up. )

( it's not exactly as easy as knowing one royal and you know them all. even he can admit that the Queen had been a rarity of her kind. that was not a compliment. surely not all monarchs were as feverishly secretive and cruel as Regina Mills, yet he thinks at least the layout will be similar. he knew of a few of her majesty's hiding places, he thinks he can combine that knowledge with the knowledge the curse planted in his head about the proper way to investigate crimes that never occurred to have enough to help him find something.

he'll at least try.

his practice shows as he picks through things, barely ruffling the things he sorts through. his boots are soft leather that don't match the modern slacks he's wearing, but certainly keep his footsteps softened. he hasn't found anything, yet — and it's more than likely if he hears someone coming, he'll hide over assuming it's another infiltrator. )