A/N: Another Nathan Fillion character mashup. I don't promise that it will make sense.
A ruggedly handsome man sits outside a cafe in Paris, drinking red wine and grinning shamelessly at female passersby. He's wearing a dark blue shirt, jeans, and boots that look like they have a few miles on them. On the table in front of him is a worn map, kept from blowing away by a worn Swiss army knife, but the man isn't looking at the map. In between ogling the ladies and sipping wine, he glances back and forth, up and down the street, and his shoulders relax visibly when he spots his target.
Another man strolls up to the table and looks down at him. The second man is wearing a linen suit with his shirt open at the collar, a Panama hat, and a smirk.
"Gotcha," says the first man.
"Nope," says the second man. From his jacket he withdraws a mobile phone and shows the first man a photo taken with it, a photo of himself from an angle, drinking wine and obviously unaware that he's being observed.
"Shit," says the first man. The grin vanishes and he waves the newcomer to a seat. "All right, you got me first. This time. I swear, you don't look like a ninja."
"That's the secret," says the second man. "If I looked like a ninja, that wouldn't be very ninja-like, would it?"
He flags down a waiter and requests a glass, and when it's filled with wine he lifts it in a toast.
"To us," he says. "Double trouble."
"Triple, soon enough," says the first man. "John's finished his training. Should be available by September."
"Speaking of place..." The second man sets down his wine and leans over. "Are you trying to advertise? Why is the map lying right there in plain sight?"
"Please," the first man scoffs. "This isn't my first trip around the block."
He casts another glance around before pulling out a tightly folded wad of paper, presumably the real map, and passing it over, under cover of pouring his companion more wine.
"Is this everything?" asks the second man quietly.
"The coin is folded into it," says the first man. "You should be able to - why, look who's here!"
The second man stashes the paper in a pocket and pulls out a handkerchief as though that's what he'd been intending to do, just as a shorter, older man with white hair and a lavish mustache walks up.
"Nate," he nods at the first man, and to the second he says, "Rick."
"Sully," says Nate. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Good to see you, too, kid." Sully rolls his eyes and chews on the cigar gripped between his teeth. "I got good news and bad news. Well, actually, bad news and so-so news."
He sits in the third chair, but waves off the waiter, then leans forward and speaks quietly to the other two men.
"Gary's dead."
"What the - " exclaims Rick.
Nate just shakes his head. "I told him to stay away from that Sheila chick. It was her, wasn't it?"
"Yeah," says Sully morosely. "Made a meal of him. Literally."
"He's not - he wasn't 'turned'?" Rick asks with faint hope. "Could he be just - undead?"
"Nope. Dead, and dismembered. Last I saw, Sheila and her hubby were burying what was left of him in the desert."
"Well, that's too bad," says Nate, "but we have - alternatives."
"That's the so-so news," says Sully. "Rainer got in touch. Says he's available."
Both Nate and Rick splutter.
"What did you tell him?" Nate snaps.
"That we had a team, that we'd keep him in mind, blah, blah, blah," Sully tells him. "Told him we'd be in touch. Sounds like he's in communication with Devereaux, so if we tell Devereaux anything we have to be sure it doesn't get back to Rainer."
"This is more complicated than I thought it'd be," Rick mutters.
"Tell me again, why are you doing this?"
"Trying to figure out if this was planned," says Rick quietly, "or just happy circumstance."
"Or pilot error," says Nate.
"Well," says Sully, getting up, "I better go. You-Know-Who is reportedly in Russia at the moment, but you know how he pops up where you least expect him."
"Yeah," says Rick ruefully. "I know."
Did you recognize everyone? Shall I continue, or just leave this simmering in everyone's brains?