April 13, 2005, 255 PM, Le Blues Bar
When Duncan returned to Le Blues Bar, he found Mike manning the bar, serving drinks to a crowd of rowdy university students. "Need some help?" he offered, coming around behind the counter.
"I think I've got it covered. Thanks, Mac."
"Anyone else around?"
"Asher's in the kitchen, someone ordered food. Last I checked, Darcy was in the lap of some guy, and Richie was searching for your hidden stock of rum. Why?"
"Serve these customers, then come around back. Staff meeting to be held."
"Sure thing, boss. Just give me five more. I'll even get Darcy for you."
If not for the seriousness of the situation, Duncan would have grinned at Mike's comment. Nodding his consent, Duncan MacLeod poked his head into the kitchen to let Asher know of the plans, before ducking into the back office. There, he found Richie rummaging around in the boxes in the far corner. "Yo, Ryan, honestly think I would keep my rum there?"
Richie grinned sheepishly, turned to face Richie. "Mike told one me, huh?"
"Yep. Grab a seat tho. As soon as the others join, we have a staff meeting."
Richie swore lightly under his breath. In French, and Duncan raised an eyebrow. "Very colorful choice." This only had Richie to swear again.
"Hey, Mac, your friend Nick Wolfe called earlier. Said he had whatever he asked for. Laid no claims to dead bodies tho."
"Umm, thanks, Darce. I'll call him back. After we are done here."
He glanced around the small room. To Richie sprawled on the couch, in a fashion which would make Methos proud, to Asher, also on the couch, keeping some space between her and Richie, her feet tucked under her. To Darcy, who sat backwards in the desk chair, idly spinning, and finally to Mike, who slouched against the closed door, arms crossed over his chest, a pair of sunglasses dangling from his right hand.
Both friends and employees, he only hoped they would understand. But he knew this was the right decision. He had decided on the drive back, radio blaring to keep out the silence, the memory of Methos screaming in his head. He had to do this.
"Hey, Mac," called Mike from where he stood. "Hate to rush this along and all, but we left the patrons out there, alone. Capable of anything, in drunken catastrophe."
"Right. I'll make this quick." Duncan paused, took a deep breath, and slowly released. "I have decided to sell the bar."
When Duncan returned to Le Blues Bar, he found Mike manning the bar, serving drinks to a crowd of rowdy university students. "Need some help?" he offered, coming around behind the counter.
"I think I've got it covered. Thanks, Mac."
"Anyone else around?"
"Asher's in the kitchen, someone ordered food. Last I checked, Darcy was in the lap of some guy, and Richie was searching for your hidden stock of rum. Why?"
"Serve these customers, then come around back. Staff meeting to be held."
"Sure thing, boss. Just give me five more. I'll even get Darcy for you."
If not for the seriousness of the situation, Duncan would have grinned at Mike's comment. Nodding his consent, Duncan MacLeod poked his head into the kitchen to let Asher know of the plans, before ducking into the back office. There, he found Richie rummaging around in the boxes in the far corner. "Yo, Ryan, honestly think I would keep my rum there?"
Richie grinned sheepishly, turned to face Richie. "Mike told one me, huh?"
"Yep. Grab a seat tho. As soon as the others join, we have a staff meeting."
Richie swore lightly under his breath. In French, and Duncan raised an eyebrow. "Very colorful choice." This only had Richie to swear again.
"Hey, Mac, your friend Nick Wolfe called earlier. Said he had whatever he asked for. Laid no claims to dead bodies tho."
"Umm, thanks, Darce. I'll call him back. After we are done here."
He glanced around the small room. To Richie sprawled on the couch, in a fashion which would make Methos proud, to Asher, also on the couch, keeping some space between her and Richie, her feet tucked under her. To Darcy, who sat backwards in the desk chair, idly spinning, and finally to Mike, who slouched against the closed door, arms crossed over his chest, a pair of sunglasses dangling from his right hand.
Both friends and employees, he only hoped they would understand. But he knew this was the right decision. He had decided on the drive back, radio blaring to keep out the silence, the memory of Methos screaming in his head. He had to do this.
"Hey, Mac," called Mike from where he stood. "Hate to rush this along and all, but we left the patrons out there, alone. Capable of anything, in drunken catastrophe."
"Right. I'll make this quick." Duncan paused, took a deep breath, and slowly released. "I have decided to sell the bar."