Prompt: Death: words Festival, Food, and Dance
Mycroft's POV
He would rather be at home or at his brother's flat rather than in Mexico, however he had been sent here to deal with a situation. Why they had to send him during the Day of the Dead festival he does not know or care. Sighing, he wishes he was back home. He watches as everyone dances, including his host, and wonders how long he actually has to stay before he can slip away back to his hotel room, and go to sleep. They could do this meeting tomorrow, they did not have to do it tonight while there was a festival going on. Still, it would be rude not to at least have a little bit to eat before he goes, so he heads over to the tables where the food is set up, selecting a few bites before stepping off to another part of the room.
He is surprised when a young man wanders over to talk to him, "You must be here for Uncle," the boy's accent is American rather than Mexican.
"Yes," he replies politely.
"Ah, hopefully he did not pull you away from celebrating your own family and history just to do business." The boy continues politely, "He's done that before. It's rather silly."
"He has not," he responds, not sure who this kid is but thinking he is the smartest one in the room, could he perhaps deal with him?
"Well enjoy the food, there is a small shrine over there if you wish your family hello," the boy tells him before motioning to a blank headstone that has been decorated with pictures of many different people, not all who are related according to the looks of them.
Wandering over, he thinks of the relatives and coworkers he has lost over the years, and wishes them a good day. Might as well at least pretend to believe if he is going to be here.