Methos strode into the room and sprawled bonelessly across the centre chair.
"I should warn you that you are gravely mistaken if you think this modern 'brain-warping mumbo-jumbo' will work on me. I've been around far too long and seen too many witchdoctors, psychics, and entrail-readers, to believe anyone can either read or cure my mind. So don't even bother. It won't work."
The lady stared at him.
Methos began to feel very self-conscious.
"Why are you staring at me? Stop it. I mean it."
His expression turned overly indignant as he tried to hide his panic.
The lady smiled warmly.
"You're scared."
Methos started to splutter out a quick denial before the lady interrupted him.
"It's okay. It's quite understandable. You're not sure what exactly I am going to do, so I'll explain it to you."
Methos opened his mouth to deny everything and try and gain the upper-hand in a conversation he was fast losing, when the lady quickly continued on.
"I am just going to ask you a few questions and show you a few inkblots. Nothing 'brain-warping', and I promise that no entrails are involved. It's okay. There's no need to panic."
Methos threw her an expert 'who me?' expression, before subtly sliding his chair away from the lady a few inches.
"Who's panicking? I'm not panicking."
The lady smiled encouragingly. She reached towards her desk drawer. Methos reached hysteria.
"What's in there? What are you doing? I didn't do anything. I promise! It wasn't me!" He paused in his ramblings to switch quickly into survival mode. "It was MacLeod. Yes, definitely Macleod. It's his fault. Not mine. Him."
"What are you talking about?" the lady inquired. "I haven't asked anything yet."
After pausing long enough to do a few hand prompted breathing motions to calm the startled immortal, the lady reached slowly towards her desk drawer and pulled out a beer.
"Would you like this, Methos?" she asked seductively.
Methos rose his head slightly from the defensive fetal position he had assumed on the chair. His eyes lit up. His head popped further out from underneath his arms.
"Beer!"
In one swift movement he unfolded himself from his bundle of arms and legs, and allowed his head to drag the rest of his body towards his holy grail.
"Me want beer!"
The lady smiled and began to offer the bottle to the deprived man, before she suddenly pulled her hand away.
"What's that in your hand?" she asked while motioning to the hand Methos had slightly hidden in his jacket pocket. Methos' eyes stayed glued on the beer.
"What in my hand? There's nothing in my hand."
"Yes there is," the lady continued on. "You've already got a beer, don't you?"
She gave him a disapproving look.
"No I don't," Methos replied quickly. He tried to change the subject back to his advantage. "Beer. Mine," he prompted while eagerly trying to reach for the elusive bottle.
"Are you lying to me?" the lady asked while moving to bottle just out of his grasp.
Methos pulled the best innocent look he could muster.
"No."
He pouted. The lady raised an eyebrow.
"Methos... Lying is not nice."
She gave him a look that a mother would give while scolding a young child. Methos began to feel very young all of a sudden.
"I don't have another beer. I promise."
"Yes you do." She smiled warmly. "It's okay, I'm not going to take if from you, so you don't have to hide it."
Methos considered his options then slowly brought his hand out from inside his jacket to reveal the precious beer bottle. He hugged it protectively against his chest while his expression dared the lady to even think of removing it from his grasp. He pulled a tentative hopeful grin.
"Can I have the beer now?" he asked, while motioning to the bottle the lady still held in her hand. She pulled a questioning glance as he leant further forward out of his chair.
"Could you first open your jacket a bit further please?" she asked suddenly.
Methos smirked.
"Do you want me for my body or my beer?"
He grinned cheekily, suddenly on more stable ground. The lady smiled in acknowledgment of his attempt at humour, then suddenly leaned forward and threw the immortal's jacket wide open.
"Ah ha!" she exclaimed.
Methos attempted a rather futile play of innocence while subtly trying to readjust his clothing to hide the six additional beers he had hidden around his person. After beginning to turn a slight shape of red, he suddenly paused when hit by a shocking realisation.
"Great," he muttered under his breath to himself. "I'm being intimidated by someone five thousand years younger than me. Just kill me now. Let me wallow in eternal embarrassment."
Regaining control of his sudden hit of martyrdom, he constructed a stubborn expression.
"Yes," he continued on out loud. "I have more beers. Is that a problem?" He motioned towards the bottle in the lady's hand. "Can I please have that one you offered me before?"
The lady looked surprised.
"But you already have another six."
"So?" he asked with genuine puzzlement.
The lady composed a poker-face long enough to see if his reaction was genuine, but when she was certain his face revealed nothing but honest protectiveness and affection for his beer supply, she smiled and ticked a few boxes on her pad of paper.
"Good," she murmured to herself. "Very good." She handed him his reward.
Glancing up from her notes, she smiled at the content immortal who was happily cuddling up to six of his beers, while making gurgling noises while drinking the other two simultaneously.
"Okay. Inkblots next," she stated while pulling the cards out of her desk drawer.
********
Five minutes later the lady finally managed to alert Methos to the fact that life existed outside the beer bottle.
"Methos. You're going to have to put at least one bottle down so you can look at the card."
She instantly wondered when she suddenly become suicidal enough to make that suggestion. Noticing Methos' death glare forming into epic proportions, she quickly made a correction to her former mistake.
"It's okay. I'll just hold them up in front of you."
Methos calmed down slightly while nearly squeezing the bottle to death in his attempt to warn her that it was his, and only his.
"Now," the lady continued on. "What do you see in the first one."
She held the inkblot up in front of his face. He stared at it for a moment before answering.
"Beer. Actually, a collection of a few of my favourites."
The lady ticked a box on her pad.
"Okay. How about the next one." She held it up.
"Ummm," he pondered. "A chair. A really head-backed uncomfortable chair." He looked greedily at the smudge of ink in front of him. "Oooooooo! I want that chair! That would be the sprawl challenge of the millennia!" His eyes danced as he glanced up at her. "I bet I could make that chair look comfortable. Bet you anything! I haven't had a worthy challenge in sooooo long," he whined.
The lady smiled.
"I bet you can, Methos. I have great respect for your...talent."
Methos noticed the pause in her response, and frowned slightly. Feeling put-off, he cuddled his beer closer to him in a comforting move.
"Can I go now? Please," he asked pleadingly. He quickly switched to his 'young face' to gain more sympathy. "I think my beers feel a little uncomfortable with all the negativity in this room," he stated abruptly. He stroked his bottle collection as he continued on. "You wouldn't want to be responsible for hurting my babies, would you?"
The lady chuckled.
"No. I suppose I wouldn't."
She sighed and shook her head.
"Ok, Methos. You can go now."
Methos jumped up from his chair but halfway to the door he turned around and gave her a questioning glance.
"Did I pass?" he asked.
The lady gave him a questioning glance.
"Pardon?"
Methos smiled wisely.
"I know this was some kind of test to do with my reactions. I mean really. The beer... the inkblot chair." He gave her a conspiring look. "You can tell me. I promise I won't breathe a word to anyone else," he cooed. The lady smiled.
"Yes, Methos. You passed with flying colours. Trust me, there is definitely nothing out of character about you."
Methos grinned widely.
"I could have told you that. I haven't been around for five thousand years without learning how to outsmart a shrink."
He smirked to himself self-indulgently as he exited the room.
*******
The remaining two to be interviewed glanced up as the immortal entered the waiting room. Methos grinned smugly at them as he swaggered past the recovery bench and sprawled into his original chair.
"I passed, you know," he gloated to Duncan across the room.
The remaining two raised their heads towards the door of the lady's office and watched as she exited and came towards the group.
"Well... I hope you two are encouraged by the sight of my last interviewee," she commented. The two men smiled through clenched teeth. The lady smiled sweetly. "Well boys, I'd like to see...Krycek...next." She motioned for the one-armed man to enter her office. He looked at her suspiciously then slunk through the door.
*******
Silence followed in the waiting room for the next few minutes, then Methos spoke.
"It's ok, my little darlings. The bad lady can't get you anymore."
Kronos glanced over to grin at the sight of his five thousand year old Brother stroking his beer collection lovingly while humming the beginnings of a lullaby to the distressed bottles.