Title: On the absurdity of modern snacks
Fandom(s): Highlander, Lost
Character(s): Methos/Adam Pierson, mention of Jack Shephard and Cindy
Summary: Just gimme the frigging beer.
Challenge: #1 - Sell It To the Networks
Notes: Yes I am shamelessly beginning my character posts here identically to those in crossing_lostrp, but I'll be good as the two diverge :)
“One ham and cheese sandwich, and a bottle of Cascade please,” Methos ordered, waving his last $10 bill across the counter. He was
almost going to miss the brightly coloured Australian currency, because it so easy to tell the denominations apart and as a bonus they were made of plastic. He’d lost plenty of notes in the laundry over time, but never down under.
“Panini or ciabatta roll?
We’re on the other side of the planet from Italy, dimwit – what does it matter? It’s not like you’ve imported it specially… and what’s wrong with two slices of bread, anyway?
Shaking his head at the pathetic amount of change coming his way, Methos turned and leaned backwards onto the bar. At least Cascade tasted halfway decent, unlike most mass-produced beers. Mortals today didn’t know how to enjoy the short time they had on this Earth. A flirtatious giggle interrupted his cynical musing, some dark-haired beauty batting her eyelids at a wholesome American male to his left. Ok, so maybe some mortals weren’t wasting time after all.
“Would you like your beer in a glass, sir?”
Gods, ordering a snack will soon be as choice-ridden as coffee, he decided with a grimace.
“Isn’t there a water shortage at the moment? Save the dishwater, all I want is the frigging beer…”
Finally snagging his drink, Methos quickly cast his eye about the food court. He sighted a familiar far by the juice bar and lifted the bottle in a smug salute, but was suddenly perturbed when the man’s friend followed his sheepish gaze. His Watcher, who’d followed him out to Sydney when the manuscript conservation position had come up, was chatting with another Watcher. There was no room for error on that count – he’d seen her at the Paris HQ several times when he’d still been welcome in that crowd, before ‘Adam Pierson’ suffered his first death – and where there was a Watcher, there was usually another Immortal.
Great. If someone else is flying today, please give me a break and let them be on another bloody flight?
For one, he didn’t want to be tagged with the Buzz for umpteen hours – and for another, he didn’t want to identify himself by making eye contact. His Ivanhoe was checked in, but sword fighting on a plane was generally considered a no-no and he had a poisoned dart set disguised as part of a fountain pen in any case. Macleod would never approve, but if there was one thing Methos had learnt during his five millennia it was that it always paid to be prepared.