New Renaissance Man: Not Exactly a Holiday

[x-jeangrey.livejournal.com]

Jean and Scott get to and set up in Peru.



Jean smiled at the young man behind the counter, twirling a strand of chestnut brown hair around her finger. "I know we don't have a reservation, but isn't there anything you could do? We don't need a view or anything." This was where Haverford and Lyman would be coming, and they needed to keep a close eye on them to figure out what the hell they were up to.

The clerk was busy typing away at his keyboard. "The tourist season has started, ma'am, there are a lot of people here." His accent was noticeable, but his English was very good anyways. "Ah, hmm. A couple didn't check in yesterday for their reservation. If they haven't come by five o'clock today it's forfeit, if you can wait?"

"I think that'll do," Scott said, adjusting his sunglasses. "Can we leave our bags here? We might as well see a little of the town as we wait, right, honey?" He slid an arm around Jean's waist, offering her a bright smile.

"The market is open," the clerk volunteered, clearly trying to be helpful. "The tourists, they go there to eat, often."

"Oh, that sounds lovely," Jean gushed, leaning into Scott's arm. "I'm absolutely famished. Let's go there, darling."

They left their bags with the clerk and headed outside. There had been rain earlier in the day, and the clouds still looked somewhat threatening, but there was more blue sky than not. Scott kept his arm around Jean, aware that he was more tense than he should be and that she'd probably sense it. But he liked his arm where it was, anyway.

From her posture and the smile on her face, anyone observing them would swear she was talking about pleasant nothings - the weather, the shops, what have you. In actual fact, "If Doug's right, we've got most of a day to learn the area. Charles said he spent most of his time in Peru at the Temple of the Moon, but there are a few other sites they might go to."

"We can take one of the buses up to the top of the mountain, if we can't get into that room until five," Scott pointed out. "Might be worthwhile."

Jean nodded. "Get the layout of the area, find somewhere safe to catch them after we figure out what the hell they're up to." Jean turned them towards the open air market. "Although I am actually starving, so food first would be nice."

"Those buses do go every hour," Scott said, letting himself be steered.

"Yes, exactly." She passed by an open air cafe where they hadn't managed to dry off the seats yet, and ducked into a small restaurant further down the road. "Two, please," she said, smiling cheerily again at the waitress who led them to a table.

Scott sat down, looking around at the tiny restaurant somewhat distractedly. "Peruvian food," he said. "I don't think I've ever had it - or know what it is."

"Still in tourist central," Jean said, handing him a menu. "English on everything." She opened the second menu, pouring over it and, without quite realizing it, starting to play with her hair again. The brown was so strange.

"It's not your color, you know," Scott said, then dropped his gaze to the menu, flustered. "I, uh, mean that it is not your best color of course," he muttered somewhat dryly. "It's a perfectly lovely color. The red is just more you."

Jean wrinkled her nose, peering closer at it. "The salon Betsy recommended did an amazing job, particularly on such short notice but, yes, I agree. I much prefer the red. And just think, two years ago you wouldn't have known the difference."

Scott's lips twitched, and the tension visible in his posture eased, if fractionally. "This is true. You look overly serious as a brunette, it's kind of funny."

"Oh, brunette's are serious? Well, this explains much about you, love." The minor distractions were helping him, she could tell.

The smile came back, grew a little. "Me? Serious? You must have me convinced with some other stick-in-the-mud husband of yours. I should have known you had a spare or two around here somewhere..."

"Oh, I need no spares. In you I have all of the options covered - super serious, crazy romantic, brilliantly commanding. I definitely got lucky."

Scott just tilted his head, regarding her with amusement over the rim of his sunglasses. "You're flattering me now. You'd think you want me to buy you lunch or something."

"Oh, you were going to do that anyway," Jean said airily. "I'm simply bolstering your ego for the hell of it; it's something of a hobby, you know."

"Perverse woman." The waiter came back, and Scott let Jean order first. The food ordered and the menus handed back over, Scott slouched in his chair, picking up his water glass and sipping at it. "I know we'd talked about an equatorial vacation, but I think it could have been under better circumstances."

Jean nodded. "Unquestionably. But, on the bright side, at least you'll get a lot of sun while we're here?" Which, given Lyman was involved, was a really good thing.

"If I get very paranoid and insist on leaving the lights on in the hotel room tonight, you're going to understand, right?" Scott asked, rather more flippantly than he actually felt.

"Yes, of course," Jean agreed. "After all, you put up with my utter refusal to go within five feet of large bodies of water. Part of why we work so well - acceptance of the trauma."

"Right." Scott smiled a bit wryly, setting his glass back down. "I'm going to be interested to see just how Mr. Haverford reacts when we catch him in the act," he said, very deliberately making himself focus on that.

"Mmm, yes. Don't think he's going to be able to charm his way out of that."

"I didn't like him, you know," Scott said with a perfectly straight face. "At all. There was this part of me that wanted to punch him in the nose the moment I met him."

"Yes, I should have given that more weight," Jean agreed, playing with her water glass. "It's just that you don't like any attractive man who attempts to hit on me."

That was a little more truth than humor to that. Scott fiddled with his silverware. "I try not to react like that," he said finally. "At least not overtly." When it's not Logan.

Their lunch arriving forestalled her answer, but when the waitress had left again Jean said, "I know, and it's not a big thing. And I can't say I'm much happier when pretty girls are hitting on you." She shrugged.

"When was the last time that happened," Scott muttered in amusement - only to have the waitress wink at him as she turned away.

Jean grinned. "See, I like it when the world makes my point for me."