The guy had seemed attached to his friends. Joe had told Cade about these guys named Macleod and Adam who were regulars at the bar. The two of them and Joe had been like the Three Musketeers on good days - trading jibes, enjoying each other's company, the whole shebang. On bad days... well, they were still friends, and sometimes even better ones. Cade had gotten the distinct impression that Joe saw these two as his own sons. There had been both love and exasperation in his tone.
Tugging off his clothes, Cade lumbered down under the sheets and soon fell fast asleep. For all intents and purposes, 'Adam Pierson' was dead to the world.
Methos once again cursed Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacFuckingLeod. It was 4am and he was driving, *driving!*, from Tahoe to Seacouver. He'd made record time from California to Oregon, surviving on roadside tar, err, coffee, and all the Queen albums he had in his possession.
He was sacrificing sleep for the Scotsman. Oh, Mac'd pay for this.
Transferring the wheel from his hands to his knee, Methos grabbed his cell phone. He punched a speed dial button and waited for someone to pick up. After 4 rings, he got a machine.
"Hello, you've reached Duncan MacLeod, I can't make it to the phone right now, but-"
Methos groaned as he slapped the phone closed. Wonderful. The bastard wasn't even picking up the phone. True, it's a bit early, but he's paranoid...
Tossing the phone onto the passenger seat, Methos settled in for the long drive to Seacouver. With any luck, his usual hotel would have a room for him.
Cade rubbed at the grit in his eyes. He'd woken up around 9, when the cleaning lady had knocked on the door and asked if he wanted his sheets changed. He'd refused as politely as he could, all the while tasting his nasty morning breath. He rolled out of bed, squinting at the bright morning sun. Tugging at his boxers - he'd developed a wedgie in his sleep - Cade went to the bathroom to brush his teeth.
While brushing, he thought over why he was there. He'd been looking through the quatrains on his own, and one had grabbed his attention. Men who didn't die, city that covered the sea, alien blood mingling with man's. It was confusing as hell, and equally disturbing. If the Gua couldn't die...
Cade spit. Swirling some water around in his mouth, he debated something slightly more important, and certainly more immediate - IHOP, or Denny's.
Cracking his neck, Cade went back out to the bed. IHOP. Yes. International House of Pancakes. As he pulled on a t-shirt, he contemplated what would be better, waffles or strawberry-covered pancakes. He'd decided by the time he tugged on his jeans and socks. Grabbing his car and room keys, he slipped on his jacket and headed out.
Blintzes, here I come.
Tires squealing, Methos pulled into the hotel parking lot. He'd had a nice lunch earlier, and was looking forward to sleeping a few hours before heading to Joe's to see if Mac was there. With any luck, Joe'd know where the Boy Scout was. Currently, though, all he wanted to do was get into a bed and sleep.
He set the car in park and got out. Ahhh, his favorite home away from... home? Well, it worked, at any rate. Smiling, he sauntered into the lobby.
"Hello, sir, how may I help you?" Methos loved these obliviously cheery girls. They never thought too much.
"Yes, I'd like a room, please. Name is Adam Pierson." Methos blearily wiped at his eyes as he reached for his wallet.
She pecked at her keyboard, then frowned. "I'm sorry, sir, but it says here you're already checked in." She looked up with an innocent expression.
That woke Methos right up. "What? How's that possible?" He leaned closer to her, with a wary look on his face.
She shrugged. "I'm sorry, sir, but there's already an Adam Pierson here. He's been here since last night." She pointed at her computer screen. "See? Room 437."
Methos thought for a moment. Then he smacked his head. "Oh my god!" He laughed ruefully. "I completely forgot! Oh, do I feel ridiculous now." He looked over to her for confirmation.
She stared with wide eyes for a moment, and then smiled nervously. "Wild night, sir?"
Oh, you could say that. "You bet. Whew!" He grimaced. "You said 437, right?" Seeing her nod, he slapped his hand on the table. "Well, I'm off to my room, then. Thanks. Just don't go telling anyone about my lapse. There are some who think I'm responsible!" He winked at her, and was rewarded with a little giggle.
He was almost out the door when he snapped his fingers. Whirling, he faced the hotel girl. "I do believe I've lost my door key. Do you have a spare?" He put on his most charming smile.
It had the desired effect. "Uhh, certainly, sir." She rummaged around behind the desk and found the appropriate card. "Here you go."
"Thank you." Giving her one last melt-worthy smile, he headed out of the lobby and towards room 437.
Gods, he loved cheery, oblivious girls.
Methos quietly exited room 437. He smiled vaguely, pocketed the key and strode out of the hallway. This game was going to be fun.
Back to the writing page