For the past ten or so minutes, Merlin had been doing one of the things he was spectacularly good at - observing the situation and assessing his next move.
He had come into the bar first and foremost to get a scotch into him, because waking up in what appeared to be another time, if not another world, rather made him think he might deserve it. Secondly, bars and public houses were a good source of intelligence as they were in the business of selling social lubricant. Most people with a few drinks in them were inclined to be indulgent, especially if you were willing to foot the bill for another.
But Merlin hadn't quite gotten to that second step yet, because about as soon as he walked through the door, he'd seen Gary "Eggsy" Unwin swirling out of his booth and into another, embracing a figure whose face Merlin could not see at the time, but was nonetheless a familiar shape. He definitely needed the drink then.
The more time that passed while he sat at that bar, observing, the more real the situation became to him. Merlin was a man who believed in facts and evidence before he entertained speculation or his own feelings. While he certainly didn't want to believe that he'd been unceremoniously removed from what he considered to be his rightful place, there was nonetheless evidence to support that he had been, and in such a way that the probability of returning any time soon did not appear to be a promising one. In this case, however, it was much the opposite. He wanted to believe what he was seeing was the truth, and the more he watched the two men in their booth, the more gestures or the stray note of a voice rang with familiarity, and the more it appeared as if his desires might be in line with the facts.
But of course, he had to be sure. Not only that, it was imperative he make his own presence known to the one compatriot he was certain was there.
"Gentlemen," Came the dark Scottish brogue as Merlin came to stand beside the table. His arms were behind him in a military man's parade rest, holding his drink hidden in one hand. "Now this is a turn-up for the books, isn't it? May I join you?"
As if he had bumped into them both in an out of the way pub in London, rather than a bar in another universe. As if one of them wasn't dead when they left it.
But Merlin's casualness aside, there was only one direction for the eyes behind the new pair of glasses, and that was directly on the face of Harry fucking Hart.
oh hay guiz, ok if I butt in on this reunion hella late?
He had come into the bar first and foremost to get a scotch into him, because waking up in what appeared to be another time, if not another world, rather made him think he might deserve it. Secondly, bars and public houses were a good source of intelligence as they were in the business of selling social lubricant. Most people with a few drinks in them were inclined to be indulgent, especially if you were willing to foot the bill for another.
But Merlin hadn't quite gotten to that second step yet, because about as soon as he walked through the door, he'd seen Gary "Eggsy" Unwin swirling out of his booth and into another, embracing a figure whose face Merlin could not see at the time, but was nonetheless a familiar shape. He definitely needed the drink then.
The more time that passed while he sat at that bar, observing, the more real the situation became to him. Merlin was a man who believed in facts and evidence before he entertained speculation or his own feelings. While he certainly didn't want to believe that he'd been unceremoniously removed from what he considered to be his rightful place, there was nonetheless evidence to support that he had been, and in such a way that the probability of returning any time soon did not appear to be a promising one. In this case, however, it was much the opposite. He wanted to believe what he was seeing was the truth, and the more he watched the two men in their booth, the more gestures or the stray note of a voice rang with familiarity, and the more it appeared as if his desires might be in line with the facts.
But of course, he had to be sure. Not only that, it was imperative he make his own presence known to the one compatriot he was certain was there.
"Gentlemen," Came the dark Scottish brogue as Merlin came to stand beside the table. His arms were behind him in a military man's parade rest, holding his drink hidden in one hand. "Now this is a turn-up for the books, isn't it? May I join you?"
As if he had bumped into them both in an out of the way pub in London, rather than a bar in another universe. As if one of them wasn't dead when they left it.
But Merlin's casualness aside, there was only one direction for the eyes behind the new pair of glasses, and that was directly on the face of Harry fucking Hart.