AN: for the purposes of this snippet I'm abandoning my headcanon that Myrddin solves mysteries in Chicago during his down time with his trusty skull companion.
ooOoo
Myrddin sat down heavily in his chosen booth. Ten hours of flood control was hard work, even for the world's most powerful wizard. The only positive-other than the chance to save lives, of course-was the free teleportation across the Atlantic ocean and the chance to cool his heels at a local pub before he had to head back home.
It was still early in the afternoon, so the place was half empty as he cast an eye around the room. The bartender had been remarkably blase about his appearance as he placed his order. He could only hope it was a case of the old English stiff upper lip instead of something more ominous. Not that it was likely that he'd stumbled into the local villains' watering hole, but funny things could happen when capes were involved.
The bartender finished pulling the pint and brought it over to Myrddin's table, saving him the trip. Myrddin made sure to thank him and gave him a generous tip on the spot. It only made sense to reward good behavior, and it helped for a hero to cultivate a positive public image. It was image concerns that kept him from sighing when somebody slid into the booth across from him.
Myrddin took a moment to study the intruder. The man wasn't wearing a mask, but he was certainly dressed oddly for anybody who wasn't a cape. He was wearing a striped suit with a polka dot waistcoat, topped off with a bowler hat. For all the oddity of his dress, though, the look in his eye was quite serious.
"Agent Jenkins, DMLE."
"What?"
The idea of any kind of law enforcement agent dressing the way Jenkins was dressed struck Myrddin as quite unlikely. He also thought it was a bit unfair that he was supposed to recognize an English agency just from its initials.
"Of all the... it's the same as your FBM. Don't think you're getting anywhere with that innocent act, mate."
Jenkins was apparently determined to play the bad cop. Myrddin hoped that the good cop would come along soon and start talking sense. This was the last thing he wanted to deal with after a long day.
"I came here with the disaster relief effort. I was invited by the government."
Jenkins waved his hand dismissively. "Of course you were invited. Still, here you are swanning about, calling yourself after Merlin himself. I don't know what kind of slipshod nonsense you Yanks will tolerate, but that name means something around here! There are still people who remember the unpleasantness from '64, you know."
"I'm... sorry?"
Jenkins gave him a searching look. "Why'd you call yourself that, anyways? A bit on the nose, isn't it?"
Myrddin wasn't quite sure where this conversation was going, but answering the question seemed safe enough. It was a matter of public record, after all.
"I told them I was a wizard and that was the name they gave me."
"You told them... blimey, you can get away with anything with all these perryhumans running about," Jenkins said. He sighed, and the anger seemed to drain out of his body. "Still, if that's the name they told you to use, well, orders are orders."
A wand suddenly appeared in Jenkins' hand and, with a sharp gesture, a pint glass appeared on the table in front of him, identical to the one Myrddin had ordered. He picked up the glass and stared at it contemplatively for a moment before holding it out in front of him. Myrddin had been shocked frozen by the blatant display of an unmasked parahuman ability, but responded automatically to the social gesture and tapped his own glass lightly against Jenkins'.
"Up Gryffindor, hey?"
Myrddin repeated the nonsense invocation and took a long drink. He needed the refreshment and the beer was better than most anything he could get at home, but he also needed a moment to think. Everything about Jenkins' attitude made him think he was a cop of some kind. His behavior had seemed a little bit crazy-fan-stalker-ish for a while, but the parahuman ability ruled that out. Was the DMLE some local version of the Guild? He thought about leaving, but decided to play along for now. Jenkins seemed like decent enough company, and the beer was good.
"So," Jenkins said, studying him in a more companionable manner, "you must have come out of Salem what, '02 or '03? Did you know a girl name of Samantha Carr? I met her at an international Quidditch match, one time."
"I don't think so."
"You'd remember if you had, believe me. Arse like you wouldn't believe," Jenkins said, flashing him a friendly leer. It looked somewhat absurd under the bowler. "American witches are all a bit cracked, but it's all in good fun, I say."
"I suppose," Myrddin said. "Look, I really didn't know that my name would bother anybody."
"Nah, it's all right. I'll put it about that you didn't mean anything by it. I mean, some muggle twists your arm, what can you do? Poor sods don't know any better."
Myrddin nodded, a little hesitantly. Jenkins gave him a reassuring smile, then cocked his head as a buzzing noise came from the pocket of his waist coat. He fished out an old fashioned pocket watch and flipped it open. Myrddin only had a glimpse of far more than the usual number of hands before Jenkins let loose a sulfurous oath and snapped the watch shut. He sprang to his feet, then hesitated before picking up the rest of his pint and finishing it off.
"I've got to go pull my partner out of my jam. Be a pal and take down the muggle repelling charm on the entry, will you?"
Myrddin didn't have a chance to respond before Jenkins spun on his heel and disappeared with a crack. He stared at the empty space where the man had been and made a mental note to do more research on the cape scene before he came back to England. It was one thing to bluff his way through a conversation, but it was downright embarassing never to have heard of so many basic things.
He shook himself out of his reverie and checked his own watch. It was just about time to leave for the teleport point. At least he'd already paid for his drink so he wouldn't have to wait around for a tab.
Now where was the damn door, again? He hadn't had that much to drink.
ooOoo