September 26, 2006, 520 PM, Paris, France
All he knew, he did not want to sleep at the barge tonight. He wouldn't sell anything, at least not yet, but he couldn't spend an empty night there, a night alone. He didn't even want to see it right now. He didn't car that most of his belongings were there, that in the few months since he and Duncan had returned to Paris, that his things had migrated from his flat to Duncan's barge, or that he had no food in his flat. How would he? Other than the occasional return trip to grab some clothes or a toothbrush or a book, or to feed the cats, he hadn't lived there in almost two and half months. He hoped his cat would still remember him, still like him. But Methos sighed; it was a cat. Right now, he had more to worry about that a cat.
Silently, he unlocked the door. Sumerian lay curled on his couch, obviously asleep, and briefly, he tiptoed to check, he was indeed only sleeping, and not dead, but he was. Asleep. Methos sighed in relief, and from habit, he wandered to his fridge. Beer, he had beer. He pulled the last bottle from his fridge, pausing to wonder how long it had been there, before he figured it couldn't hurt him, and he popped the bottle open. Somehow, the standard 'pop' sound reassured him. He took a long gulp. Beer bottle in hand, he wandered over to the couch. The cat opened one eye sleepily at him, before he returned to dreamland. "Wish I could sleep," Methos mumbled under his breath. Instead, he swallowed more beer.
Half hour later, the beer gone, Methos simultaneously heard the door knock, and felt the double Immortal presence. He cursed under his breath. "I don't need this right now," he murmured. He assured himself he did indeed have his sword on him, and he stalked to the door. "Yes?" he spat.
"We wanted to make sure you made it home safely," spoke Richie. He and Asher stood at the doorway, bearing some food, and also his belongings. "We tried Mac's first, but seeing you weren't there, we figured you would be here. We just thought it be best you weren't alone."
"I'm not alone," he responded bitterly. "I have Sumerian. And, I assume Osiris must be around here somewhere." But nonetheless, he opened the door, so the two younger Immortals could come inside. "Leave the clothes in the bedroom. I'll go through it later."
Richie nodded, and he disappeared, leaving Asher with the brooding Methos. "I didn't know you had cats, Adam," she asked.
"Duncan and I adopted them." Methos shrugged. He returned to the couch, to his previous perch, and Asher sat next to him, carefully sliding Sumerian over first. Sumerian hissed, and he jumped from the couch, only to disappear into the kitchen. Asher frowned. "We were in -uh- Bermuda. Theresa always has cats, and one recently had kittens, so Duncan I took two. Our mascots, for the remaining destinations." Methos frowned, and he shrugged again. "Don't know why we kept them here, and not there. Suppose MacLeod wanted to keep his place cat-proof."
Asher cocked her head, but she didn't say anything. Instead, she simply nodded. Richie re-emerged from the bedroom, with the bag of food still in his left hand. "You have a cat asleep on your pillow," he stated. He sat in the opposite armchair, and he placed the bag on the coffee table. "Since when do you have cats?"
"Since now," the oldest Immortal answered. "Why is everyone asking me about cats all of a sudden?" He stood, stalking into the kitchen, to discard the beer bottle. Once there, away from the four other prying eyes, he stared outside the window, and he remembered the first night he and Duncan had slept here, together, and he had awoke to Duncan standing here, dressed only in boxer shorts and his hair, cooking breakfast, standing at this window, drinking his coffee, while the oven heated. Methos sighed. From the living room, he could hear the whispers. Idly, he wondered if Richie had left Havyn in charge, or if he had closed the bar, and if they had already called the others with the news.
He frowned, and he set the empty beer bottle on the kitchen counter. And, he returned to the living room. He sat on the couch, again, and he asked, "So, what kind of food did you bring?"
All he knew, he did not want to sleep at the barge tonight. He wouldn't sell anything, at least not yet, but he couldn't spend an empty night there, a night alone. He didn't even want to see it right now. He didn't car that most of his belongings were there, that in the few months since he and Duncan had returned to Paris, that his things had migrated from his flat to Duncan's barge, or that he had no food in his flat. How would he? Other than the occasional return trip to grab some clothes or a toothbrush or a book, or to feed the cats, he hadn't lived there in almost two and half months. He hoped his cat would still remember him, still like him. But Methos sighed; it was a cat. Right now, he had more to worry about that a cat.
Silently, he unlocked the door. Sumerian lay curled on his couch, obviously asleep, and briefly, he tiptoed to check, he was indeed only sleeping, and not dead, but he was. Asleep. Methos sighed in relief, and from habit, he wandered to his fridge. Beer, he had beer. He pulled the last bottle from his fridge, pausing to wonder how long it had been there, before he figured it couldn't hurt him, and he popped the bottle open. Somehow, the standard 'pop' sound reassured him. He took a long gulp. Beer bottle in hand, he wandered over to the couch. The cat opened one eye sleepily at him, before he returned to dreamland. "Wish I could sleep," Methos mumbled under his breath. Instead, he swallowed more beer.
Half hour later, the beer gone, Methos simultaneously heard the door knock, and felt the double Immortal presence. He cursed under his breath. "I don't need this right now," he murmured. He assured himself he did indeed have his sword on him, and he stalked to the door. "Yes?" he spat.
"We wanted to make sure you made it home safely," spoke Richie. He and Asher stood at the doorway, bearing some food, and also his belongings. "We tried Mac's first, but seeing you weren't there, we figured you would be here. We just thought it be best you weren't alone."
"I'm not alone," he responded bitterly. "I have Sumerian. And, I assume Osiris must be around here somewhere." But nonetheless, he opened the door, so the two younger Immortals could come inside. "Leave the clothes in the bedroom. I'll go through it later."
Richie nodded, and he disappeared, leaving Asher with the brooding Methos. "I didn't know you had cats, Adam," she asked.
"Duncan and I adopted them." Methos shrugged. He returned to the couch, to his previous perch, and Asher sat next to him, carefully sliding Sumerian over first. Sumerian hissed, and he jumped from the couch, only to disappear into the kitchen. Asher frowned. "We were in -uh- Bermuda. Theresa always has cats, and one recently had kittens, so Duncan I took two. Our mascots, for the remaining destinations." Methos frowned, and he shrugged again. "Don't know why we kept them here, and not there. Suppose MacLeod wanted to keep his place cat-proof."
Asher cocked her head, but she didn't say anything. Instead, she simply nodded. Richie re-emerged from the bedroom, with the bag of food still in his left hand. "You have a cat asleep on your pillow," he stated. He sat in the opposite armchair, and he placed the bag on the coffee table. "Since when do you have cats?"
"Since now," the oldest Immortal answered. "Why is everyone asking me about cats all of a sudden?" He stood, stalking into the kitchen, to discard the beer bottle. Once there, away from the four other prying eyes, he stared outside the window, and he remembered the first night he and Duncan had slept here, together, and he had awoke to Duncan standing here, dressed only in boxer shorts and his hair, cooking breakfast, standing at this window, drinking his coffee, while the oven heated. Methos sighed. From the living room, he could hear the whispers. Idly, he wondered if Richie had left Havyn in charge, or if he had closed the bar, and if they had already called the others with the news.
He frowned, and he set the empty beer bottle on the kitchen counter. And, he returned to the living room. He sat on the couch, again, and he asked, "So, what kind of food did you bring?"