Methos whirls, hand going instinctively for his sword, concealed beneath his coat. He stops just short of pulling it out as he takes in the man who'd just appeared behind him, holding a bottle of wine.

The man who'd just appeared. Behind him. Who claims to be Hermes, and was not there a second before. He takes a few moments to process this, and then lowers his hand from his coat.

"Alright, well. At least this is one step up from believing in the tooth fairy," he mutters, but loudly enough to be heard. Then, louder:

"Hermes it is, then. Adam. Adam Pierson." He isn't sure if a god even shakes hands, or if Hermes expects him to bow or something.