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

[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.]