The next morning Ianto and Miranda were riding the lift down to the lobby making idle conversation about breakfast. He could tell that she'd slept fitfully, if at all. Again, he'd resisted asking, knowing she wouldn't answer.

They had plenty of time this morning before their meeting with the Prime Minister and Miranda had mentioned a cafe she knew of that served an excellent breakfast. The lift arrived at the lobby and the doors opened. The two of them stepped out. Ianto, a few steps in front of her, reached into his pocket for the valet ticket.

"I'm sure the-" she broke off, mid-sentence and stiffened.

Ianto turned to see why she'd stopped speaking. He saw the tense look on her face and her hand in her coat and knew she sensed another immortal close by. Her eyes were scanning around the lobby and she was ignoring him. He often wondered why her immediate reaction was to reach for her sword. The lobby was mostly deserted of guests but the hotel staff were bustling about. Did she honestly expect one of her kind to come swinging at her in public in broad daylight?

He started looking around himself and saw the same man from the shop standing by the lobby doors. Standing next to him was a handsome man of similar height but a much broader build, his long hair tied back. In spite of the possibly dangerous situation, Ianto found himself amused. The two men were in a similar stance, looking around the lobby with one hand each inside their coats.

The sour look he'd seen yesterday returned and she sighed. "One minute, Ifan."

She left him standing by the lifts to cross over to the two other men, her back straight and her mouth thin. The two men headed for her as well. The trio were within earshot and while he could hear them he couldn't understand a word. The conversation was quickly becoming heated. He may not understand the words but human body language was universal. He saw Miranda shake her head sharply, point a finger at the ponytailed man and then another at Methos. She turned on her heel and headed back towards him.

"Let's go, Ifan. We still have plenty of time for breakfast. I'll get the car," she said, taking the ticket from him and exiting the hotel.

Ianto followed her out of the lobby doors, exiting the hotel and walking down the sidewalk towards the valet. No sooner had he turned then he felt the brush of a hand on his arm. He turned around, startled, and saw the ponytailed man standing behind him, his arm outstretched, a friendly smile on his face.

"Duncan MacLeod."

"Ianto Jones," he said, taking the hand of his fellow Celt.

MacLeod jerked his head in Miranda's direction. "She trusts you. Make her realise she's in danger."

"What do you mean?" he asked sharply.

"Not us," the other man said quickly. "Someone's after her, knows she's in Britain."

"Who?" he demanded.

MacLeod shook his head. "She knows already. We've tried to warn her. She doesn't think Terfel's a threat."

"That's because he isn't," Miranda said from behind him, her arms crossed and the sour look on her face again.

"You need to take him seriously. He's a full timer and he's improved," the Highlander said to her. He added sadly, "Robert and Gina are dead."

"And may the Gods unite them in the afterlife," she said. "I take all my challenges seriously… when they present themselves."

"You cannot always wait," Methos said with a touch of concern in his voice, "sometimes it is better to act offensively."

"This from the king of tuck tail and run?" she snapped, turning around to face Methos.

MacLeod stepped up behind Miranda, laying a hand on her shoulder gently and coming to the other man's defence. "We're only trying to help."

"Don't, Mac. Just… Don't." She recoiled from the other man's touch, knocking his hand away with her arm. Miranda's temper was always formidable but the venom in her voice surprised even Ianto. Ianto saw they were starting to draw uneasy looks from the staff.

"Do not press your luck with me, Highlander," she said threateningly. She gave MacLeod a look that made Ianto shudder inwardly.

Hurt filled MacLeod's voice. "We were friends once, you and I."

Miranda stepped into MacLeod's personal space, somehow managing to look threatening even though she was significantly shorter and smaller than the Highlander. She pointed her finger at MacLeod's face and with a voice that rang with accusation said, "That was before I came home and found you in my bed…" the accusatory finger shifted to point at Methos's chest, "with my husband."

The awkwardness descended like a sudden fog. Neither man would look at Miranda. Ianto gave Methos credit for bravery - or perhaps foolishness - when he stepped forward and opened his mouth to speak.

She cut him off, whipping her head around, her tone like a knife. "Silence. Don't even think about opening your mouth lest I remove your tongue."

She closed her eyes. Ianto saw her conditioned sequence of movements again - the sharply inhaled breath, the roll of her shoulders as she slowly exhaled. He saw calm move across her face. She turned towards Methos and softened her tone. Ianto didn't miss the shake in her voice that would have gone unnoticed by anyone who didn't know her.

"I came home and found you in our bed… with our friend," she said, uttering the last word like a curse.

She dropped her gaze and started towards the car without so much as a backward glance. "Come on, Ifan. Work to do."