Following the meeting fiasco, Methos has been outside the wall more often. Not that he actually believes he'll pick up any sign of Harth's trail or whereabouts. Mainly, he just needs to be away. From everyone.
They'd been arguing about the best way to keep Harth from sending someone in to sabotage us, and the little shit had been there himself
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And instead of guns in her shoulder holsters, she has stakes.
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She's trying so hard not to gloat. She had way more fun than guard duty.
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"Can't complain."
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She begins to shimmy her pack off her back and sets it on the ground.
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Lara pulls one out to toss to him.
"And then I had to fight my way home. It was fun."
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It must be said, for the record, that the notion of Lara Croft "playing a game" with Buffy Summers is nothing less than the pinnacle of adolescent masturbatory fantasies. We now rejoin your narrative already in progress.
"Ah," Methos says, catching the stake. "Well, that would explain why he was in such a foul mood when he caught up with me. And fought your way home? Against what?"
Please say Harth's dead, please say Harth's dead, please say Harth's dead...
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Scrawny kid? Glasses? Like the one she'd had such a nice chat with at the meeting?
"Um...no..." she says hesitantly.
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"Damn. Ah, well. Figure he's laying low after that stunt he pulled at the meeting."
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Conveniently leaving out the 'with Jayne' portion of that story.
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