Welcome to Gaia! ::

It was late afternoon in Seacouver, just before the close of normal business hours and the local bars and restaurants begin their dinner rush.

Weaving in and out of the beginning of the rush hour traffic, a DHL van pulls off the major thoroughfare, coming to a stop outside of Joes Two men get out of the van, pull a dolly from the back, and unload a hefty package about four feet by two feet, and three feet deep.

Moving around the side of the building,the two men wheel up to the service entrance and ring the buzzer. Depending on who's in the bar, the package might cause hairs on the back of the neck to raise unexplainedly, though a public courier would never carry anything truly dangerous.

(OOC - Hi all! I know it's been a while, but I'm back. biggrin )

The delivery man with the clipboard quirks a sympathetic grin at Mike's reaction. He hands Mike an envelope after the clipboard is signed. "This came with the parcel, sir."

Upon opening the envelope, it soon becomes evident that the entire trunk is some kind of marketing ploy.

GREETINGS PROPRIETER,
PLEASE EXAMINE AND ENJOY THE ENCLOSED SAMPLES OF STONEWARE, STEMWARE, AND FLATWARE OFFERED BY LAST CHANCE RESTAURANT SUPPLY, AN AFFILIATE OF BALANCE, INCORPORATED. IF THE ENCLOSED MATERIALS ARE TOO YOUR LIKING, A FULL CATALOG IS ENCLOSED FROM WHICH YOU CAN ORDER TO SUIT ANY NEEDS YOU MAY HAVE. IN THE UNORTUNATE EVENT THAT YOU CHOOSE NOT TO DO BUSINESS WITH US AT THIS TIME, YOU MAY RETURN THE SAMPLES AT NO CHARGE UTILIZING THE RETURN SHIPPING LABEL ENCLOSED IN THE SHIPPING CASE,
THANK YOU!
YOUR FRIENDS AT LAST CHANCE RESTAURANT SUPPLY

Apparently, the two DHL have delivered similar packages before. "At least they aren't calling you on the phone, man." The man with the dolly remarks. "Want me to wheel this inside for you?"

The dolly man (thank goodness the poor DHL dude's High School buddies aren't here to see him described thsly) follows Mike to te storage room, setting the box down in a relatively clear spot. "THere you go. Have a nice day."

The box is a bit sturdier than your average packing carton...of course, if the thing is transporting dishes and the like, the container would have to be relatively sturdy to keep the items safe.

Then again, that box was pretty dang heavy for a bunch of plates and silverware and crap...ah well. The DHL an shrugs it off as he rejoins his partner in the van and the two drive off to their next assignment.

As the lid of the case is flipped open, it pulls open a seam in a thick canvas pouch, letting air inside the previously vacuum sealed container with an audible hiss.

A second later, the neck prickling felt by Methos grows into an all out BUZZ as an Immortal resurrects.

With a massive gulp of air, the Immortal known as Gaston Marceau takes in a welcome lungful of air which dissolves into a short coughing fit After another moment, his breathing is under control.

Both of Marceau's hands come up, lifting him up to a sitting position in the box. He gives himself a stretch, then looks up at Methos. One might note with interest the scar across his neck that wasn't there before. "Hi."

Reaching down beside him, Marceau produces an aluminum can. "Beer?"

Apparently, he came prepared.

Gaston gives a bit of a tired chuckle as he climbs out of the box. "Long story...eh..."

He reaches down into the box, removes a satchel and his sheathed scimitar and kukhri that had been tucked into the bottom. "OK...Balance got into one hell of a major tizzy with the bad guys. In the process, Sahib and I met up again, did our best to punish one another into a new incarnation, blew up a building, and destroyed various other property."

Pushing the box away from himself, Marceau adds. "Basically, I'm in the thick of things on too personal of a level. Balance has published me dead and leaked the info to the baddies, has allowed me to retire with pension, and has set me up with a new identity so long as I try to stay off the radar."

In response to Joe, Gaston offers. "I'll buy dinner and a drink later and leave a really big tip, OK?"

As for Methos, that requires more of a response. "Blah blah blah." It's interesting to note that Gaston isn't mocking his mentor...it looks more like that particuar mannerism has rubbed off. "I remember. We had the whole 'visibility' talk after Apollo 13 as I recall."

Gaston has the belief that Immortals should be in the thick of things, inspiring the idiot mortals to do a little better with their world. Call it a difference in philosophy between him and Methos.

Anyway. "Actually, the past few years have got me thinking to take it a little slow for a while. Since I can't go to the digs in New Orleans until things between the baddies and Balance die down a little more anyway, I was thinking I might buy a plane or two and start my own air frieght business."

Gaston shrugs. "Flying always helps me wind down, so what the hell, right?"

Gaston knows full well how obvious the sczr on his neck is, and he scratches at it uncomfortably briefly. "Don't know if you'll believe me, but Sahib's probably looks worse." Maybe we can get into the story later.

However, Methos' apparent approval of his new career choice gets his attention. "Glad I decided to come back then. I hadn't really thought much of the particulars out yet...figured survey or touristy flights up in the Canadian wilderness would be a gimmie."

As they head into the bar, Gaston mentions. "Hey, i'll pay as long as I can get something to eat while we're at it. Built up an appetite packing myself in a box for who knows how long..."