boxolawyers | (no subject)

Who: Methos, Rachel
What: A random meeting, different worlds and time periods be damned. Mostly an excuse to test out the muses.
Where: Some bar somewhere, circa I don't know. 8D
When: Mid-evening
Warnings: None

[The bar is dark and small. There are barely enough people in it to make the evening worthwhile for either the neatly dressed bartender or the singer crooning old standards from the miniature stage in the corner.]

[Methos surveys the clientele briefly before slipping his lanky form into a booth in the back, one whose tall cushions ensure that his back is guarded. He nods to the bartender; there’s no response, but a few moments later a girl appears from the back and comes over to take his order. She smiles, he smiles back, languidly, crookedly, and the process of taking down a drink order somehow takes several minutes.]

[She returns a short while later, carrying a frosty glass topped with a head of foam and a slip of paper with numbers jotted down. Once she’s gone he sits alone, sipping his Guinness and listening to the singer’s sultry voice, and keeping a discreet eye on the entrance.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Moments later, a young woman enters the bar, stopping just inside the entrance to survey the area before heading towards the back. She looks boyish, her blond hair hidden beneath a dark green bandana, and nearly every inch of her body hidden by dark clothes, almost as if she's trying to remain inconspicuous among the men who populate the bar.

Without a word, she takes a seat at a high-backed booth opposite Methos and looks around, perhaps waiting for someone or something.]

[From the moment the newcomer enters the bar his eyes are on her, assessing her. Sensible, inconspicuous clothes that mask most of her defining features, which are themselves fairly nondescript, it’s obvious she’s not looking to stand out. It’s equally obvious she’s not here for the same thing most women (like the two girls in slinky dresses giggling quietly at the bar and eyeing the other patrons) come here for.]

[Mildly curious, he lifts his glass to her as her wandering eyes slip over him.]

[Her gaze pauses on him for a moment, and she lifts an eyebrow in response before looking ahead.

Not interested.]

[Well, that confirms his suspicions that she’s not there to socialize. He grins to himself and takes a swig of his stout. His eyes wander to the stage again, but his attention is still on the girl as he waits to see whoever might be meeting her.]

[The girl remains quiet for the next several minutes, except while ordering a glass of water and a bowl of peanuts from the waitress. When it seems as if nothing will come of watching her, she shows some slight movement as the door to the bar opens, and in walk three men in suits. They don't acknowledge her, but her eyes linger on them while they make their way to the back of the bar, finally looking away when they take their seats only a few booths down.

When the waitress brings her water and peanuts, she nods a brief thank you and goes about her business, apparently paying no mind to the men anymore.

To trained eyes, however, it may appear that she's listening quite intently.]

[Conveniently enough, his eyes are about as trained as they can get. He notes the scene with interest and continues to take discreet glances at all four individuals while he listens to the singer and nurses his drink. Chances are good this could either provide a distraction or a threat, and he’s ready for either.]

[Minutes pass. The men talk amongst themselves, saying nothing that would be of import to the average bar goer as they laugh and order a round of drinks.

The girl nurses her water, her wandering gaze falling on the man in the booth opposite hers once more. She catches his glance and frowns slightly. Is he watching her?]

[Who, the average looking fellow who’s now chatting up the waitress as he finishes ordering another drink? He couldn’t possibly be watching her. Not at all. The way his gaze seems to accidentally stumble across hers on its way back up to the stage emphasizes his innocence. He blinks at her, gives her a bit of a lopsided grin and a nod, then keeps his eyes moving.]

[Accidentally, sure. Her eyes may not be as trained as his, but it's her job to be aware of everything around her, and she's noticed his discreet glances far too many times for them to be purely accidental. Her attention remains on the suits, but the lone man in the booth remains a thought in the back of her mind.

Twenty minutes pass. One by one, the men rise from their seats and clap each other on their backs. It seems their business--whatever it may have been--is done, and they leave a hefty tip on the table as they file out of the bar.

The girl turns to the man now, staring at him openly.]

[He doesn’t seem at all worried about being called out, nor does he even acknowledge that he was doing anything to be called out over. He’s been hunched over his drink, staring thoughtfully into his glass, since the singer took a break a few minutes before. Now he leans back with all the careless grace of a cat, spreading his arms along the back of the booth and giving the girl an innocent smile.] Evening.

[The girl is not impressed.]

Why are you watching me?

[His genial composure doesn’t falter. In fact, he chuckles, seemingly amused.] What makes you think I’m watching you?

[Her wariness remains.] You've been glancing at me since I came in.

[His amusement remains.] And unlike most of the women who come here, you aren't used to attracting attention?

[At that, her mouth tightens to a thin line, and she looks away.]

I'm not interested.

[The misconception suits him just fine. He shrugs, still casual.] Fair enough. Interested in a drink, instead? No strings attached.

[She sips her water pointedly.] Thank you, but I'm fine.

[That is that, at least for the moment. He raises his glass to her again, nods, and takes a sip. Then he directs his gaze to the stage to watch the singer, who's chosen a convenient moment to return.]

[Indeed, that is that. She takes one last sip of water and stands, leaving a few coins on the table as she heads toward the exit.

Before she can reach the door, however, two of the men she'd been watching come barreling into the bar, guns drawn. The other patrons scream, some of them dropping to the floor preemptively, but the girl--although caught off guard, at first--acts quickly and makes herself scarce by hiding behind one of the booths up front, near a window. Poised, she watches the men intently.

The men don't appear to be concerned with the people inside. Their attention and their guns are trained on the door, as if they expect trouble to bust through at any moment.]

[In the first few seconds he's taken the whole scene in, everything from the weapons they're dealing with to the girl's impressive reaction time. The weapons aren't a real concern, but remaining inconspicuous means they have to appear to be, so for now he follows everyone else's lead, staying tense and still and watching the gunmen with wide eyes.]

[Well, the gunmen and occasionally the girl.]