--- Bronze Age - Methos ---
"Seems peaceful enough," Kronos said as he took a seat next to Methos. He had his sword at his side too, but his hands were simply clasped over his knees.
Methos spared a bit of attention to look at him. Kronos had seen his share of violence, that much was obvious, but he was smiling as he surveyed the empty sand and turned to catch Methos' eye.
"It has been," Methos agreed. "I'm good for the night, if you want to sleep more."
Kronos shook his head. "No, I like the night. Always preferred it."
"As have I," Methos said, letting his hand drop a bit from his sword. Kronos didn't move, but Methos was certain the man had noticed.
No Immortals lived long without being acutely aware of their surroundings. They sat there together for an hour, silent but for the sound of Methos digging his toes into the sand.
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