Grissom Montag took his usual seat at Jake's Meta Bar & Grill and ordered a pint of Guiness.

"Is that all, Griss?" Jake asked, unsmiling.

"That's all for now, mate," Grissom said, holding up his Guiness. "Cheers!"

Jake grunted.

"Somethin' wrong, Jake?"

Jake glared at him for a moment, then nodded to the right of Grissom over to a large man sitting alone by a table. "One o' yours?" he said sarcastically.

"Ah. The new man on campus, I s'pose. I'd 'eard the company'd taken on another new recruit." Grissom chuckled. It seems they were taking in anyone and everyone who merely showed up lately, as per usual.

"Well, I don't like the guy."

Grissom's eyebrows rose in feigned shock. "You, Jake? Since when don't you like a payin' customer?" He winked at Jake.

"I don't mind an ordinary payin' customer, but I don't like that guy OR his money. He can keep it as far as I'm concerned."

"What's wrong, then?"

Jake sighed. "First off, the guy walks in here with a sword. Bar's rules prohibit weapons of any kind. You know that. He knows that, too. There's a huge sign by the door. But he comes in with that... that 'Calibur' thing anyway."

"Excalibur?"

"Naw, naw, it was something like that, but not quite?"

"Hmmm... Caliburn, then?" Montag knew Caliburn had been the original name of the sword of King Arthur from Geoffrey of Monmouth's History of the Kings of Britain written in the 12th century.

Jake nodded vigorously. "Right, right, that was it."

"Interesting..." Grissom said, taking a long glance at Mason Templar and seeing him in a completely new light now.

"Anyways, your guy orders a drink. ONE drink. And then he don't drink it. Just sits there, nursing it, gazing into it sometimes and then staring off into the distance at other times. I mean, why the hell does someone come in here and order a drink that they're not gonna drink?"

"Per'aps he just wanted a place to think?" Grissom suggested.

"Well, he can go down to the beach to think," Jake said. "I want him outta here. I've put up with him for too long today. And either you get him out of here, or I'll get Chewy t'do so."

Grissom Montag grinned at Jake and took a long swig of beer, then set it down on the counter. "I'll go talk to 'im, Jake. Don't worry y'rself."

Jake grunted and went back to cleaning mugs.

Grissom walked over to Mason Templar's table and approached him from behind.

"Having a 'merry Christmas,' Mr. Montag?" Templar spoke in his usual baritone, somewhat softer than usual, without turning around to see his visitor.

"D'you have eyes in the back o' your head, mate?" Grissom Montag said, chuckling. He placed his hand on the chair opposite Templar and said, "Mind?"

"Not at all."

The Brit sat down and was just about to speak, when Templar spoke abruptly once more: "Montag... Montag... you know, I once knew a man named Montag. Many years ago now."

"Really?" Grissom replied, caught somewhat off-guard.

"Aye," Templar replied, looking up from his glass of untouched alcohol and meeting Grissom Montag's eyes with a steely gaze. "He was a pirate."

Silence. And then Mason Templar began to guffaw with laughter. Grissom wasn't sure what to make of this. "What's so funny, mate?"

"He was an old-fashioned pirate who sailed the high seas and looted the Queen's ships at every given opportunity. Aye, he was a good man. The world needs more men like him."

"Well now you've got my curiosity piqued," Grissom Montag said, unsure whether Templar was pulling his leg or not. "Go on, mate, when did you know him?"

Mason Templar sighed and looked back down at his glass. "Too long ago, I'm afraid. He's dead now, anyway. Dead like all the others."

"Ah."

"Now begone, Mr. Montag," Templar growled. "Although I'm sure we have much in common and much to discuss, it must be done at some future time. Today is a day to remember dead friends, and I must be alone."

"Oh..." Grissom said, unsure of what to say next. He looked up and saw Jake glaring at him. "Well..." he began.

"You can inform the innkeeper that I'll be leaving his 'fine establishment' momentarily, as soon as I have my sword returned."

Grissom Montag nodded and rose. "I'll go tell 'im. Uh... well, I hope you have y'rself a merry Christmas Day, at any rate, Templar."

"I hope so, too."