(no subject)
This is my response to unovis_lj's Highlander Bar Story challenge.
A Renaissance Man
Rating: G or PG
Disclaimer: It's just for fun.
Thanks as ever to miraminx for her invaluable help, this time in keeping Methos and Joe in line.
FADE IN:
INT. - JOE’S BAR
Late evening in Joe’s Bar, and smoke hangs heavy in the close atmosphere, stinging the eyes and blurring the outlines of Joe’s usual eclectic mix of patrons. Joe has just finished his set, gone to rejoin his three friends and catch a breather, leaving another guitarist to pick out the notes of a slow, melancholy blues number.
It’s been a long day and Joe’s moving heavily towards the table, whisky bottle and four short glasses in hand.
RICHIE
...so I took the engine apart. Then, once all the parts were lying on the floor, I didn’t see how they could ever fit together again.
METHOS
(snorting)
Funny. That’s just what Leonardo used to say after he’d finished a dissection.
MACLEOD
Oh, for God’s sake.
RICHIE
Who’s Leonardo?
METHOS
da Vinci. Tsk, tsk. Kids today!
MACLEOD
And you would know this how?
JOE
Sounds like a good time for a drop of the hard stuff.
The clink of whisky bottle on glass brings a temporary halt to the conversation.
METHOS
Ever seen Leonardo’s John the Baptist?
(rubbing a hand over his shorn head)
Of course, my hair was longer in those days.
JOE
Get out of here. I’ve seen that painting. It doesn’t even look like you.
METHOS
Ah, the Renaissance. Florence. Good times. I remember thinking, if this is Civilisation, bring it on. Even the Romans had nothing on it.
MACLEOD
Except the sanitation. And the justice system. And the education. Oh, yeah, and the roads. Yeah. What did the Romans ever do for us?
METHOS
Yes, those were all wonderful advances. But we are talking great art, MacLeod.
JOE
So you’re saying you modelled for Leonardo da Vinci, right? How come that doesn’t show up in your chronicles?
MACLEOD
Don’t encourage him, Joe.
METHOS
He’s a Watcher, MacLeod. He wants to encourage me.
RICHIE
(enthusiastically)
So, did you ever meet the Mona Lisa?
METHOS
Whose job do you think it was to keep her happy during sittings? Actually, Leonardo was getting on a bit by then. Some of us took turns with the brush for him while he had a nap. He was a nice old guy but he wasn’t above a bit of artistic thievery when it suited him.
JOE
(straightening in his chair)
Wait a minute. You’re saying Leonardo didn’t actually paint the Mona Lisa? That you did?
METHOS
It was more like a collaborative effort.
MACLEOD
Oh, come on, Methos. That theory about students painting the Mona Lisa was last year’s crackpot notion. Let’s hear a new one.
METHOS
Why would I peddle crackpot theories? I’ve usually been there, done it and bought the souvenir doublet and hose.
(pause)
Anyway, she was a complete bitch. Had the place in uproar every time she came in for a sitting. Half of us ended up leaving because of her.
RICHIE
Where did you go?
METHOS
Rival studio. They had a big job on. Sounded like long-term, steady work. Turned out to be one of the biggest mistakes I ever made.
JOE
(to MacLeod)
Sorry, Mac. I gotta ask.
(to Methos)
So, spill.
METHOS
There was a big project on in Rome at the time. Do the words ‘Michelangelo’ and ‘Sistine Chapel’ mean anything to you?
The drone of talk in the bar and the slow slide of the blues are low counterpoints to the eloquent gap in this conversation. Methos shakes his head and stares forlornly into his empty whisky glass until Joe takes the hint and another generous measure sloshes in. He seems calm, but his bright eyes suggest he’s enjoying the reaction to the little historical bombshell he’s just dropped.
Richie’s leaning back in his chair, relaxed, prepared to let himself be entertained for the evening.
Joe’s trying for relaxed too, but listening to what may just be the world’s oldest man relating chunks of what may just be living history is like a physical charge for a Watcher. He’s reminding himself that this is Methos, also the world’s oldest bullshitter, but the lure is still irresistible: it might just be true, and he’s barely managing not to sit on the edge of his seat.
MacLeod’s face is impassive, his jaw square and firmly set. His eyes, though, are soft. What he’s thinking is anyone’s guess.
METHOS (CONT’D)
Is it so hard to believe? My arse was a model for the Sistine Chapel ceiling.
MACLEOD
Now that I can believe.
(pause)
I’m gonna get another beer. Anyone want one?
JOE
Your ass is preserved in the Sistine Chapel? In the Vatican?
METHOS
Last time I looked. In three separate panels. Michelangelo loved my arse.
Methos catches MacLeod’s eye.
METHOS (CONT’D)
In a manner of speaking. But it all ended in tears. Cesare Borgia came in, seemed to take a fancy to me, Lucrezia got jealous, and-
A finger drawn across his throat and a small choking sound are enough to eloquently illustrate Methos’s fate.
METHOS (CONT’D)
And she wasn’t even very good at it. It took me three days to die. Yeah, Mac, I’ll have another beer.
Sliding back his chair, Methos pushes up from the table and heads for the washrooms.
INT. - THE WASHROOMS, JOE’S BAR
The overhead fluorescent light illuminates a chill, empty room that's a stark contrast to the dimness of the smoky bar. Methos hardly has time to unzip before the door swings open and MacLeod is standing there.
MACLEOD
Are you trying to give Joe a heart attack?
METHOS
He loves it! Did you see his face? He’s lapping it up. With the tape recorder he’s planted under our table.
(at MacLeod’s double take)
Never underestimate just how sneaky the Watchers can be. Even friendly ones. And it’s not personal, Mac. You always come first. The Watchers just come a very close second, that’s all. Give the man a break.
MACLEOD
(considering)
Maybe you ought to give him a bit more for his records.
Methos zips up and briskly washes his hands.
METHOS
I intend to. Did you get me that beer?
MACLEOD
Joe’s getting it. So what’s next? Shakespeare writing sonnets to you? Doing a bit of composing with Mozart?
METHOS
No, I like consistency. I’ll stick with the Renaissance theme tonight. Come on.
A hand on MacLeod’s back guides him out the door and into the warmth of the bar again as the door gently swings shut.
METHOS (CONT’D, OFFSCREEN)
I think I’ll finish up with a story about a guy called Machiavelli...
FADE OUT.
THE END.
A Renaissance Man
Rating: G or PG
Disclaimer: It's just for fun.
Thanks as ever to miraminx for her invaluable help, this time in keeping Methos and Joe in line.
FADE IN:
INT. - JOE’S BAR
Late evening in Joe’s Bar, and smoke hangs heavy in the close atmosphere, stinging the eyes and blurring the outlines of Joe’s usual eclectic mix of patrons. Joe has just finished his set, gone to rejoin his three friends and catch a breather, leaving another guitarist to pick out the notes of a slow, melancholy blues number.
It’s been a long day and Joe’s moving heavily towards the table, whisky bottle and four short glasses in hand.
RICHIE
...so I took the engine apart. Then, once all the parts were lying on the floor, I didn’t see how they could ever fit together again.
METHOS
(snorting)
Funny. That’s just what Leonardo used to say after he’d finished a dissection.
MACLEOD
Oh, for God’s sake.
RICHIE
Who’s Leonardo?
METHOS
da Vinci. Tsk, tsk. Kids today!
MACLEOD
And you would know this how?
JOE
Sounds like a good time for a drop of the hard stuff.
The clink of whisky bottle on glass brings a temporary halt to the conversation.
METHOS
Ever seen Leonardo’s John the Baptist?
(rubbing a hand over his shorn head)
Of course, my hair was longer in those days.
JOE
Get out of here. I’ve seen that painting. It doesn’t even look like you.
METHOS
Ah, the Renaissance. Florence. Good times. I remember thinking, if this is Civilisation, bring it on. Even the Romans had nothing on it.
MACLEOD
Except the sanitation. And the justice system. And the education. Oh, yeah, and the roads. Yeah. What did the Romans ever do for us?
METHOS
Yes, those were all wonderful advances. But we are talking great art, MacLeod.
JOE
So you’re saying you modelled for Leonardo da Vinci, right? How come that doesn’t show up in your chronicles?
MACLEOD
Don’t encourage him, Joe.
METHOS
He’s a Watcher, MacLeod. He wants to encourage me.
RICHIE
(enthusiastically)
So, did you ever meet the Mona Lisa?
METHOS
Whose job do you think it was to keep her happy during sittings? Actually, Leonardo was getting on a bit by then. Some of us took turns with the brush for him while he had a nap. He was a nice old guy but he wasn’t above a bit of artistic thievery when it suited him.
JOE
(straightening in his chair)
Wait a minute. You’re saying Leonardo didn’t actually paint the Mona Lisa? That you did?
METHOS
It was more like a collaborative effort.
MACLEOD
Oh, come on, Methos. That theory about students painting the Mona Lisa was last year’s crackpot notion. Let’s hear a new one.
METHOS
Why would I peddle crackpot theories? I’ve usually been there, done it and bought the souvenir doublet and hose.
(pause)
Anyway, she was a complete bitch. Had the place in uproar every time she came in for a sitting. Half of us ended up leaving because of her.
RICHIE
Where did you go?
METHOS
Rival studio. They had a big job on. Sounded like long-term, steady work. Turned out to be one of the biggest mistakes I ever made.
JOE
(to MacLeod)
Sorry, Mac. I gotta ask.
(to Methos)
So, spill.
METHOS
There was a big project on in Rome at the time. Do the words ‘Michelangelo’ and ‘Sistine Chapel’ mean anything to you?
The drone of talk in the bar and the slow slide of the blues are low counterpoints to the eloquent gap in this conversation. Methos shakes his head and stares forlornly into his empty whisky glass until Joe takes the hint and another generous measure sloshes in. He seems calm, but his bright eyes suggest he’s enjoying the reaction to the little historical bombshell he’s just dropped.
Richie’s leaning back in his chair, relaxed, prepared to let himself be entertained for the evening.
Joe’s trying for relaxed too, but listening to what may just be the world’s oldest man relating chunks of what may just be living history is like a physical charge for a Watcher. He’s reminding himself that this is Methos, also the world’s oldest bullshitter, but the lure is still irresistible: it might just be true, and he’s barely managing not to sit on the edge of his seat.
MacLeod’s face is impassive, his jaw square and firmly set. His eyes, though, are soft. What he’s thinking is anyone’s guess.
METHOS (CONT’D)
Is it so hard to believe? My arse was a model for the Sistine Chapel ceiling.
MACLEOD
Now that I can believe.
(pause)
I’m gonna get another beer. Anyone want one?
JOE
Your ass is preserved in the Sistine Chapel? In the Vatican?
METHOS
Last time I looked. In three separate panels. Michelangelo loved my arse.
Methos catches MacLeod’s eye.
METHOS (CONT’D)
In a manner of speaking. But it all ended in tears. Cesare Borgia came in, seemed to take a fancy to me, Lucrezia got jealous, and-
A finger drawn across his throat and a small choking sound are enough to eloquently illustrate Methos’s fate.
METHOS (CONT’D)
And she wasn’t even very good at it. It took me three days to die. Yeah, Mac, I’ll have another beer.
Sliding back his chair, Methos pushes up from the table and heads for the washrooms.
INT. - THE WASHROOMS, JOE’S BAR
The overhead fluorescent light illuminates a chill, empty room that's a stark contrast to the dimness of the smoky bar. Methos hardly has time to unzip before the door swings open and MacLeod is standing there.
MACLEOD
Are you trying to give Joe a heart attack?
METHOS
He loves it! Did you see his face? He’s lapping it up. With the tape recorder he’s planted under our table.
(at MacLeod’s double take)
Never underestimate just how sneaky the Watchers can be. Even friendly ones. And it’s not personal, Mac. You always come first. The Watchers just come a very close second, that’s all. Give the man a break.
MACLEOD
(considering)
Maybe you ought to give him a bit more for his records.
Methos zips up and briskly washes his hands.
METHOS
I intend to. Did you get me that beer?
MACLEOD
Joe’s getting it. So what’s next? Shakespeare writing sonnets to you? Doing a bit of composing with Mozart?
METHOS
No, I like consistency. I’ll stick with the Renaissance theme tonight. Come on.
A hand on MacLeod’s back guides him out the door and into the warmth of the bar again as the door gently swings shut.
METHOS (CONT’D, OFFSCREEN)
I think I’ll finish up with a story about a guy called Machiavelli...
FADE OUT.
THE END.