Methos and Ceirdwyn came to dinner the other night and it was exciteable to say the least. Ceirdwyn is as emotional as I ever had known her, but then again I don't expect any different from the Celts. Still, it was pleasant having so many people so close to me at the dinner table seeing as I haven't had a situation conducive to such things in quite some time. Everyone seemed to get along well, though I'm starting to think that's only because they all enjoy taking their relative jabs at me. I wonder when I turned into such a target?
Methos parked and walked up to the door, deciding to be polite and knock this time.
Amy glanced at Marcus before calling "Come in!"
Methos opened the door. "Good evening!"
Ceirdwyn stiffened slightly as the presence approached--Marcus had said nothing about this Phillip person being an Immortal.
Marcus poured a forth glass of wine. "Come in, Philip!"
"He doesn't bite." Amy assured Ceirdwyn. "Well. He's had his shots at least."
Methos handed Marcus another bottle of wine and smiled. "I know you said not to bring anything, but Joe's got all this wine in the basement at the bar, and no one ever drinks it..." he turned to Amy and the other woman. "You
Ceirdwyn studied the newcomer. Not just an Immortal, but a cute one, too. Damn, he's just a baby. Has to be. He can't be more than a century or two, tops. She smiled pleasantly, letting her unease fade.
"Actually, I said bring whatever you want, so this well applies," Marcus nodded as he took the bottle from him. "After dinner."
"I'm Ceirdwyn," she said, deciding on impulse to use her real name. "Marcus hasn't told me anything about you, so I haven't any preconceptions to overcome." She held out her hand. "Nice to meet you."
Methos shook her hand. "How nice. Someone who isn't biased against me. And you've been talking to Amy?"
"Well, we haven't had much of a chance to chat. Give us a day or two and I'm sure she'll tell me all sorts of unpleasant things about you. There isn't much about Marcus's bad habits I don't already know," she added with a wink.
"I don't always talk badly about you." Amy assured him. "You have decent taste in wine, for instance.'
"I assure you that Amy only knows of a small portion of my bad habits," Methos told her, grinning.
"I'll have you know I have relatively no bad habits," Marcus insisted.
Methos sighed. "It's rather distressing."
"Oh? Well, now you've got me curious. I suppose I'll have to keep an eye on you," Ceirdwyn said with mock gravity. He seemed like a nice enough guy, this Phillip Ahearn.
"I assure you that I am quite boring these days." Methos took a sip of his wine and siled.
Ceirdwyn accepted a glass. "Now, why do I have trouble believing that?" She looked over at Amy. "Is he always this well-behaved, or did you tell him I'd eat him if he wasn't?"
"I behave, or Amy shoots me," Methos informed her.
"Ouch. That's never fun." Ceirdwyn suppressed the flicker of pain in her gut. No dwelling on the past tonight. She sipped her wine to cover up her near-slip. "So...if you don't mind my asking, are you Marcus's student?"
Methos chuckled. "Marcus has taught me a few things."
Amy choked on her wine.
"No matter how often I ask them to stop---" He started before choking on his wine.
"You could say that he is responsible for making me the man I am today," Methos continued.
Ceirdwyn looked from Marcus to Amy, somehow realizing she'd made an error in judgment but not sure exactly how. "I'm--sorry," she said lamely. "I didn't mean to talk out of turn..."
"No, no don't be sorry." Marcus smiled. "No, he was never my student quite in the way you were."
"Well, no offense meant." Obviously she'd touched on something that was some kind of private joke among the three of them, and that wasn't any of her business. She smiled and took another sip.
"So you didn't drag him kicking and screaming off a Brythonic battlefield and spend the next few years passing him off as your slave," she said lightly.
Methos chuckled. "Now that you mention it... No, very different situation."
"Excuse me." Amy giggled. "I have to go...check on dinner."
"Need any help?" Ceirdwyn asked, standing up.
"No, I'm okay. Thank you though." Amy assured her, heading into the kitchen.
"Well, just let me know if you need an extra pair of hands." Ceirdwyn sat back down, outwardly placid, inwardly cursing the missed chance at a narrow escape cleverly disguised as a graceful exit.
"Ceirdwyn? Uncomfortable?" Marcus asked as she sat back down again.
"Why should I be uncomfortable?" she said brightly to him, adding in a voice pitched only for his ears, "I only made a complete fool of myself in front of your friend."
"Hardly. Philip's an old friend of mine and you aren't the first student of mine he's met. At least this was better than the last," Marcus explained simply.
She blinked and arched an eyebrow. "An 'old' friend, you say?" she echoed softly, taking that to mean Phillip was Marcus's contemporary. "He certainly seems young enough."
Marcus only smiled, "I assure you he is not. He was part of my House in Rome before I met you."
Methos sighed. "Thank you, Marcus. That was almost as good as calling me 'Remus' a few years ago."
Amy came back out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her slacks. "Discretion, Marcus."
"You two are being paranoid," Marcus muttered. "And you hadn't complained when I called you that before."
Ceirdwyn held her hand up at once. "Oh, I have no intention of prying. Phillip, I assure you, your past isn't any of my damn business. I'm just sorry I, uhm, 'underestimated' you."
"I intended you to. It's useful, unless some old acquaintance of mine gets it into his head to say something to the contrary," Methos sighed. "I like being underestimated. It's useful.
"Useful for you, embarrassing for me," Ceirdwyn said, but she was grinning. "I guess it's the Immortal equivalent of a thirty-year-old being carded at a 7-11."
"Indeed," Methos nodded.
"I'm sorry, Old friend, perhaps you think something's going to jump out at you from behind the statuary?" Marcus sighed.
"Nothing wrong with a little healthy paranoia," Ceirdwyn commented. "So long as you don't take it to extremes."
"Marcus, things have jumped at you from behind statuary." Amy sighed.
"Let me take a look..." Methos peeked behind Marcus' couch and an urn on a stand.
"Yes but note that I'm not nearly as bad as he is," Marcus felt the need to point out.
Ceirdwyn giggled at Phillip. Definitely cute. Or maybe he's just playing it up to look helpless. I can't believe I made such a stupid error in judgment...I must be getting old.
Methos sipped his wine and chuckled at Marcus. "Not as bad as me?"
"I never am," Marcus nodded.
"You're bad enough in your own ways, Marcus," Ceirdwyn teased. "But I'm sure Amy loves you in spite of that."
"I would certainly hope she does."
Amy nodded. "I do. And dinner should be ready in a moment."
Marcus smiled widely, "Thank you."
Ceirdwyn looked at the two of them, and a wistfulness flickered for a moment in her pale-aqua eyes, then she closed it away.
Methos caught her look. "Sickening, aren't they?" he asked, smirking. "Goodness knows why I spend so much time over here."
"Well if you hadn't, how could I possible torture you with my undeniably good mood?" Marcus grinned.
Methos nodded. "Good point."
Ceirdwyn chuckled quietly. "I think it's charming. You're a lucky man, Marcus Constantine."
"I know, and I thank her ever day for it," Marcus nodded to Ceirdwyn.
"Glad you agree," Amy nodded.
"I'm too tamed not to," Marcus agreed.
Ceirdwyn looked at Phillip, and seemed on the point of asking something, but thought better of it. Instead she said, "Tamed, is he? I rather doubt that."
"You don't know Amy well enough yet," Methos told her.
Amy glared at him.
Methos smiled at her.
"Well, it looks like I'll have to stick around for a while, then, just to see if you're right or wrong," Ceirdwyn said to Phillip.
"I am always right," Methos told her.
"Modest, as well, I see."
"I had hoped you weren't just passing through, Ceirdwyn."
Ceirdwyn gave Marcus a fond look. "I guess I'll need to start looking into real estate. I can't live at the Ritz." She glanced over at Phillip. "There's no privacy in French hotels. The staff is well-meaning, but they're
always anxious to be about everyone else's business as well as their own."
"You don't have a house in Paris anymore?" Marcus asked a bit surprised.
She shook her head. "No. Not since--not since I left."
Marcus nodded, "Then you should stay here, unless you have some pressing attachment to invasive hotel staff?"
"Oh, I couldn't impose on the two of you like that. Bad enough I practically invited myself to dinner tonight...but if you can recommend anyplace..."
"I could keep an eye out. I'm fairly good at such things," Methos offered.
"Would you?" Ceirdwyn looked at him gratefully. "It doesn't matter if it's a bit of a 'fixer-upper'; I like to keep busy anyway. If I don't have something to do, I go a little crazy."
"He does have a talent," Marcus agreed quickly.
"I found Marcus a place in Seacouver in, what, a day?"
Ceirdwyn laughed. "That's a handy gift to have, actually."
"You also repaired my relationship with Amy at the same time. He has his miracles," Marcus said more to himself as he recalled.
"If you're serious about the offer to keep an eye open, I'd be eternally grateful. Remind me to give you my email address before the night's out."
Amy nodded. "He did. though it's not quite enough to make up for disappearing for so long..."
Methos nodded. "I will."
Ceirdwyn nodded and looked at Amy. "Even the most stable of us have to 'gafiate' once in a while."
"And he will suffer for it for as long as is deemed necessary."
Ceirdwyn studied the lean, relaxed figure and decided he didn't seem to be suffering that much.
"I suffer all the time," Methos nodded.
"You hide the sackcloth well," she said to him.
"Oh yes, terribly so." Marcus nodded deeply, "Sometimes we make you wake up before what? Noon?"
Ceirdwyn giggled and finished her wine.
Marcus laughed, "I do try to be a taskmaster."
"You always were, Marcus," Ceirdwyn told him with a wry grin. "Well I remember."
Methos nodded. "You were. Now, not so much. I don't mind waking up before noon at all... not these days."
Marcus laughed. "I'm hardly so bad. Neither of you even work for me anymore."
Ceirdwyn kept the smile on her face and looked from one man to the other, sensing a subtext that may or may not have been there. Well, if there's more to their relationship than I thought, that's their business, isn't it? Just as well, I suppose.
"No, I don't. I work for Joe." Methos nodded.
"And Jon works for me, or more accurately Amy, but she's worse than I ever was."
"Speaking of Jon, how is he doing?" Methos asked Amy.
"He's fine," Marcus muttered before Amy could answer.
Amy shrugged and went back to the kitchen. "He'll survive!" she called over her shoulder.
"Sounds ominous," Ceirdwyn remarked.
"He's turning very much into Amy's little footsoldier," Marcus drawled.
"He's an intern at the museum," Methos told her.
"Ahh. Well, if Marcus is cowed by his lovely wife, I tremble at the thought of having her as an employer."
Marcus looked at her, "Actually, she's my assistant. She only acts like my employer."
"I was talking of this poor unfortunate Jon of whom you spoke," she told him placidly.
Marcus chuckled, "A slip only. Oh Jon. He knew what he was getting into when he signed up."
"He did. He's had full disclosure," Methos agreed.
"Well, I won't waste any more sympathy on him, then."
"He seems to be getting a long with her much better now."
"That's good. In all seriousness, Amy seems like a wonderful person. I'm hoping to get to know her well enough to set both your ears to burning," she teased, looking from one man to the other.
Marcus smirked at Methos, "I told you I was outnumbered."
Methos chuckled. "Indeed. Good thing I'm here."
"You're still outnumbered, old friend," Ceirdwyn said to Marcus. "Everyone knows that one woman is easily worth three men."
"I've got many friends I could drag along next time..." Methos offered.
Marcus raised a brow, "How strange that's the first I've heard about that."
Ceirdwyn laughed lightly. "Don't pay any attention to me. I'm just old-fashioned. I long for the days before the so-called 'Age of Chivalry'--when the men became men, the women became objects, and the sheep got really nervous."
"Ah yes, because I haven't had a wife try to slip a knife between my ribs in how long?" Marcus said with a roll of his eyes.
"Chivalry was highly overrated," Methos muttered.
"Absolutely," Ceirdwyn agreed wholeheartedly. "They say chivalry's dead, and I wish someone would tell me where it's buried so I can dance on its grave."
"Outnumbered again," Marcus mumbled.
Methos leaned over and patted his shoulder. "You were born before chivalry, you know."
"I do, but that isn't to say I found it so terrible."
"That's because you're a man," Ceirdwyn said. "How would you like to have been told it was 'unseemly' for you to carry a sword?"
"It didn't help that the Holy Church got it into its collective head that women were the source of all sin."
"I like equality," Methos stated. He stood up and went to peek into the kitchen. "Amy? Dinner soon?"
"Don't get into battles of Morality with me, Ceirdwyn," Marcus sighed, "I lived in the Holy Empire and I know damned well what they decreed. Considering the alternative, it could have been much worse."
"My kind of man," Ceirdwyn murmured, then shook her head, dismissing the thought. "Yes, Marcus, I know, and I didn't come here to debate theology."
Amy came out from the kitchen. "Dinner. And no arguing while we eat."
"Yes, of course."
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