Open The first thought that ran through Methos's head when he woke up in a room that wasn't the hotel he'd checked into the night before was that he'd break Alysse's neck, and drag her off her ship, and then take her head off. The second was that there was no motion of the bed, and the room looked remarkably like a hotel room, not the guest quarters on Alysse's yacht.
"Where am I?" he muttered as he sat up, automatically searching for the sword that should have been propped up next to his bed. Ivanhoe was missing, and he reached under the pillow next to him, hoping that at least the pistol was still there. Another negative.
A curse in a long-dead language escped him, and he crawled out of bed, heading for the wardrobe that stood in one corner. He hoped his clothing, or at least clothing that fit, was in there, because he didn't like the idea that he was somewhere unfamiliar in just his boxers.
All he found was a fuzzy terry-cloth robe that barely covered his arse, and he sighed, wrapping it around him as he headed for the window, twitching aside one curtain a fraction to peer out at the street. It looked pretty empty, and the buildings weren't distinctive enough for him to place a city. He shifted so he could look down the street, searching for a cross-street, and signs. He looked the other way when he saw nothing, and frowned with puzzlement when he saw none in the other direction, either.
Or rather, he saw a street, but no sign, and that made his hackles stand up, every survival instinct screaming that something was wrong, and staying where he was wasn't the best of ideas. He looked around the room again in search of something he could use as a weapon, and could conceal easily. It took dismantling the lamp to get what he was looking for, and he peered out the peep-hole in the door, searching what of the hallway he could see from it. No one near the door, at least. And no other Immortals nearby, or he'd be rediscovering how well he could climb a wall.
Opening the door, he peered out into the hallway, slipping out when he didn't see anyone, heading towards what appeared to be the end of the hall, and the stairs, the length of metal rod from the lamp held close to his body as he walked, keeping his limbs loose, ready to fight, or more likely run, if he had to.