lt_safe_house | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Date: 05 May
Location: Sitting room
Status: Public (Atlan, Jan)
Summary: Atlan is trying to kill time

Fool, his extra sense told him. You're never going to find your way home like this.

That was true. But then again, he wasn't trying to find his way home right now. Right now he was just trying to keep his mind off of the mess he was in. This place had been supposed to be his ticket home. Well, it didn't seem to be.

Maybe he could at least escape into the distraction of a good movie for a while.

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"I prefer not to let them that close in the first place," Jan said glancing down at his right hand again. That last opponent had definitely gotten much too close.

Atlan followed his eyes. "Someone got too close?" he asked, indicating the man's lack of a thumb.

"Sort of," Jan tried to shrug it off. "I made a stupid mistake." By not getting out of that one's way as fast as he could. He'd been lucky not to lose more than his thumb.

"Ah yes," Atlan said "Stupid mistakes can be really annoying and painful. I once nearly lost a hand from that, when I was younger."

Fartuloon had been appropriately angry at him, too.

"I guess it could have been the whole hand in my case as well," Jan admitted regarding the stump with a feeling of relief for the first time. "And I got away without any further injuries." Such as a cut off head for example.

"I hear they have pretty decent artificial hands these days," Atlan said lightly, though he inwardly shuddered at the thought of the clumsy things these barbarians used to replace lost limbs.

"They've made a lot of progress," Jan agreed. "But they'd never serve to properly handle a sword ... or gun with. As it is, at least I can still manage the gun."

"You like swordplay?" Atlan asked. "Or are you like the little Egyptian? He seems to like swordplay, too."

A note of sarcasm crept into his voice at the last sentence.

"Little Egyptian?" Jan asked. Another hotel guest that he hadn't met, yet? "It used to be a hobby," he explained. "I only switched to shooting when I lost my thumb and couldn't hold a sword properl anymore."

Atlan held up one hand. "About this tall, nose like ine, black hair cut short these days, goes by Methos, used to be one of my slaves when I was practically ruling Egypt?"

The latter may have been an exaggeration, but it made no difference here for all intents and purposes.

Jan looked Mr. von Arkon up and down.

"How did you manage to blend in there?"

"Practice," Atlan said. "Just act as if you belong and no one will question you. You, on the other hand..."

He looked Jan over critically and seemed torn between shaking his head and smiling at him.

"You, on the other hand, look like you're all too aware you don't belong. Your posture, your manner of looking at people, everything. They know you're a stranger here because you as good as tell them."

Jan looked down at himself, but couldn't see anything wrong. Of course, there was no was he could see his mannr of looking ...

"But this isn't Ancient Egypt," he pointed out. "They're used to foreigners here now."

"Even a foreigner can look as if he belongs," Atlan said. "And even a local can look as if he doesn't. As if he knows he's doing something he shouldn't. Or went some place he's not supposed to be."

"Oh, come on, with your colouring you can't possibly have gone unnoticed in Ancient Egypt."

"I suppose you could have convinced them that you were a god or something," he allowed after a moment. "But they must have known you weren't one of them."

"True," Atlan admitted. "In Ancient Egypt, they revered me as a demigod. It was quite pleasant, I have to say, those little humans catering to my every wish."

Braggart, his extra-sense commented.

Atlan chuckled. True.. And also true that he was enjoying himself as he did the bragging.

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