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xp_logsAfter returning from Libya, Nathan heads into the city to find an old friend. MacInnis is a little perplexed to see him.
It was a midscale hotel, of the sort that people used when they wanted to be comfortable but unnoticed. Nathan had stayed in dozens of them himself, all over the world. This one in New York had a bar in the lobby, and it was instinct, not telepathy, that made Nathan look there first.
He saw MacInnis as soon as he walked through the door. The older man was seated at the bar, nursing a drink - scotch, from the look of it - and watching CNN on the television set hanging above the bar. He was, surprising at this time of night on a Friday, the only one there besides the bartender. Nathan smiled faintly and went over to join him.
MacInnis raised an eyebrow as Nathan sat down into the seat next to his. "This new job of yours is turning you into something of a sleuth, son," he said, then sipped at his scotch. "How did you know I was here?"
"Couple of phone calls," Nathan said, shaking his head at the bartender. Alcohol of any sort, after the excitement of the day, would have him on the floor if he so much as sniffed it. He knew this. "I already knew you were in town this week, though."
"So you decided to stop in and say hello?" MacInnis looked tired, but better than he had six months ago, by far. Some of the lines of strain were gone from his face, and Nathan wondered, a bit distantly, why it relieved him to see that.
"I thought you might like to know. I was in Libya today." Nathan's eyes narrowed, and he reached out to brush MacInnis' mind, sending him the images from the rescue and the wild flight back to Tunisia. Focusing, very deliberately, on the kids, and the other ex-Mistra operatives.
MacInnis was very still, processing the telepathic input. "Why come to show me this?" he asked slowly, his eyes focusing on Nathan's face again.
"Because," Nathan said softly, feeling oddly reckless. "Because it was a good day, and because you're at loose ends, aren't you?" MacInnis arched an eyebrow, and Nathan smiled tightly. "Isabel," he explained. "She told me that you were almost finished wrapping up what needed to be wrapped up after Youra in August, when she left to go to Tunis."
"Isabel has a big mouth."
"Isabel is more kindly disposed towards you than most of us, for some reason."
MacInnis tilted his head, a faint, wry smile tugging at his lips. "What do you want, son? Not that I haven't missed this, but you didn't track me down to snipe at me."
"Mmm," was Nathan's reply. "I have an idea."
"Oh?"
It was a midscale hotel, of the sort that people used when they wanted to be comfortable but unnoticed. Nathan had stayed in dozens of them himself, all over the world. This one in New York had a bar in the lobby, and it was instinct, not telepathy, that made Nathan look there first.
He saw MacInnis as soon as he walked through the door. The older man was seated at the bar, nursing a drink - scotch, from the look of it - and watching CNN on the television set hanging above the bar. He was, surprising at this time of night on a Friday, the only one there besides the bartender. Nathan smiled faintly and went over to join him.
MacInnis raised an eyebrow as Nathan sat down into the seat next to his. "This new job of yours is turning you into something of a sleuth, son," he said, then sipped at his scotch. "How did you know I was here?"
"Couple of phone calls," Nathan said, shaking his head at the bartender. Alcohol of any sort, after the excitement of the day, would have him on the floor if he so much as sniffed it. He knew this. "I already knew you were in town this week, though."
"So you decided to stop in and say hello?" MacInnis looked tired, but better than he had six months ago, by far. Some of the lines of strain were gone from his face, and Nathan wondered, a bit distantly, why it relieved him to see that.
"I thought you might like to know. I was in Libya today." Nathan's eyes narrowed, and he reached out to brush MacInnis' mind, sending him the images from the rescue and the wild flight back to Tunisia. Focusing, very deliberately, on the kids, and the other ex-Mistra operatives.
MacInnis was very still, processing the telepathic input. "Why come to show me this?" he asked slowly, his eyes focusing on Nathan's face again.
"Because," Nathan said softly, feeling oddly reckless. "Because it was a good day, and because you're at loose ends, aren't you?" MacInnis arched an eyebrow, and Nathan smiled tightly. "Isabel," he explained. "She told me that you were almost finished wrapping up what needed to be wrapped up after Youra in August, when she left to go to Tunis."
"Isabel has a big mouth."
"Isabel is more kindly disposed towards you than most of us, for some reason."
MacInnis tilted his head, a faint, wry smile tugging at his lips. "What do you want, son? Not that I haven't missed this, but you didn't track me down to snipe at me."
"Mmm," was Nathan's reply. "I have an idea."
"Oh?"
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