It was the end of the week and, as always, Arturia didn't work. Thus, she had to occupy herself with other things, which meant getting a hold of herself and refraining from kicking Lancelot out of her home. This kid had quite literally been teasing her for the entire week; he had not let Scáthach's words slip by at all. He had constantly been making comments on "Pretty Boy".

Currently, Arturia was seated on the couch popping strawberries in her mouth while she silently watched the television. She had pushed Lancelot towards the bathroom because he had completely omitted taking a shower for the past few days. He claimed it was having 'freedom' and 'no wonder' she loved the countryside.

The timer on the stove went off and she hurried to the kitchen for the food was most likely ready. She heard the water halt in the pipes and it was soon followed by the groaning of a door. She guessed Lancelot had left the washroom and was simply changing.

Ding!

"I'll get the door!" Lancelot called from the living room, his footsteps loud and echoing throughout the small cabin. It sounded as if he tripped halfway but caught himself before the fall. Soon enough, he opened the door.

Lancelot stood, his lips a straight line as his hair let droplets of water pool on the hardwood floor around him, after sliding past his pale torso, "Pretty boy!" He waved, his grey eyes lifting at the sight of the dark-haired boy.

Diarmuid, on the other hand, stood still—shocked. His dark brows were furrowed as he looked at the shirtless man in front of him. No words could leave his mouth at this point, his hands had hardened into fists and he clenched his jaw, nearly gritting his teeth, "Where's Arturia?" He finally spoke.

"Hello to you as well," Lancelot blinked and then turned, his hair launching water all about—even on Diarmuid, "Artiechoke, there's a man at the door for you. It's, uh, Daniel?"

"Daniel?" Arturia peaked her head from the kitchen, her eyes landing on a half naked Lancelot, "Put your shirt on, Lancelot." She growled and stalked to the door, giving him a glare.

The violet haired boy hurried away, missing the towel that the blonde threw at him. She slowly made it to the door, after sending another insult at her friend, "Daniel?" She finally set her eyes on Diarmuid, "I've told him nearly a thousand times that is was Diarmuid." She breathed as she shook her head.

Diarmuid's usually bright honey eyes seemed a little dull on this fall afternoon, "Lancelot? Artiechoke?"

Arturia blushed, her cheeks flaming as she immediately looked away, "Lancelot gave me that nickname when we were kids. We used to wrestle a lot."

"Who's Lancelot?" Alright, he knew it was not his place to be asking, but for some odd reason, he felt upset as something deep inside him twisted at the sight of the other young man.

"Oh," Arturia gave a nod, "Scáthach has yet to tell you? He is my best friend. He will be staying with me for a few days until I can convince him to return to London without me."

Lancelot seemed to have taken no time in changing and jumping into the conversation, "Actually, I will be succeeding in taking her back to London."

Arturia shot the violet-haired man an even look and then turned back to Diarmuid, "Anyway, you needed to speak with me?" She asked, leaning on the doorframe.

Diarmuid blinked twice, his eyes landing on Lancelot for a split second, "My sister wished to invite you over for dinner."

"Well," she mumbled, "I do have to take care of this kid," her gaze flickered towards Lancelot.

"Well, I'm sure my sister would love for him to tag along; you already know that she has that specific view on people and their family."

Arturia gave a small nod, "Ah, I guess you're right." Her eyes lingered on Diarmuid's for a second and then she nodded again, "We will be there in ten minutes, he simply needs to dry his hair."

Diarmuid bid his quick farewell and disappeared up into the hill.

Arturia had helped the young man dry his hair after she had changed into something much more presentable. It wasn't as if they got all dressed up, but they did try to not look like they had been lazing around in the cabin all day.

"It's been a while," Cu gave her a smile, then proceeding to look Lancelot over, "Lance…?"

"—lot. Lancelot." The violet haired man extended his hand, his normal stoic face put forward.

They all made their way towards the table just as Scáthach and Diarmuid finished plating the table. The table was lit by the many stories that Cu Chulainn and Lancelot shared, and Arturia could see they were getting along. Scáthach would occasionally comment on one of Cu's stories, correcting him and adding details here and there.

Diarmuid, was using his fork to pick at his golden potatoes, with hesitance.

"I do hope you don't throw those away," Scáthach glared at her youngest brother, "My hand might just slip and spill my glass." The glass of wine was brought to her maroon decorated lips.

Diarmuid groaned, blinking at his sister, "I'm not throwing them away," he argued, putting his fork down. "I'm not feeling well, is it alright if I could go up to my room?"

Scáthach sighed, "Yes, of course, go on ahead; you're excused."

"Thank you." He stood from his seat, picking up his plate and then hurried out of the dinning room.

Dinner was over rather quickly, time flew after Diarmuid had left and Scáthach invited the two best friends to move to the living room for a light snack and a coffee while they decided to play some board games.

"Hey, Artie, do you mind asking my brother if he's feeling any better to play with us? It's game night and I don't want him missing it." Scáthach asked, her head tilted, straight hair falling over her shoulder and a small smile on her lips.

Arturia gulped, a small flutter in her stomach before she accepted. "I wouldn't mind at all." She smiled softly before taking directions from Cu as to where the Teenager's room was.

She slowly stepped up the stairs, some groaning under her feet from her weight. There was a certain rhythm her heart was beating to, not one Arturia had been familiar with before to this extent. The dark hallway did not have a single light on for Arturia couldn't find the switch, but what guided her though the silent and intimidating hall was the light that leaked from the crack underneath a door at the end of the hall from the left.

It did not take long to reach it, but it did to knock on it. She had stood still for a while, listening to what the boy was doing. She heard his voice—as soothing as it was—talking, most likely on the phone. He spoke with tenderness and she had already assumed it was with Grainne.

"Oh, wait one sec, babe," she heard his hush after she knocked, "I'll call you back, okay?"

Guilt washed over the blonde as she huffed and shook her head, the approaching steps not making her feel any better.

The door was pulled open by the man, revealing Diarmuid there, "Oh, hey."

"Uhm, hi."

He looked at her in a manner that made her feel strange, almost as if he were analyzing her, "What are you doing here?"

"Oh," the question had caught her off guard, "Your sister said it was game night and if you were feeling better, she wanted you to join us."

The brunette blinked, "I don't mean here," he leaned on the door frame, crossing his arms over his chest, "I mean… Uhm, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. That was out of line, forgive me." He already bowed at her, which was a strange custom, really.

Arturia gave a soft chuckle, "It's alright, I guess. Don't worry too much."

Diarmuid rubbed the beck of his neck, biting his lower lips for a split second, "Hey, I checked the weather for tomorrow, and I was wondering if you would like to go for another ride…?" He exited the room and closed the door behind himself.

"Oh, sure, that would be fun," She gave a small smile, "I'd love to."

"Great," Diarmuid returned a shy smile, looking away from her for a second, "Well, maybe we should be off, right? Scatty must be missing us." He went off ahead, turning on the lights and filling the room with a yellow light, lighting up the flower printed wallpaper and dark wood floor.

Arturia felt her cheeks heat up a bit, but she could not control it, the sudden beating of her heart too. Yet, she could not get rid of the guilty feeling in her gut, not for even a single second.

"How are you feeling?" Scáthach asked, glad that her brother joined her as was evident in the cheery smile on her lips and the loving look in her eyes.

Diarmuid forced a smile, "I'm better," he spoke, "Well, what are we going to be playing tonight?"

"Monopoly," Cu triumphantly smiled. The older of the two brother always won at the game—no matter what; he won. They would play for days and Scatty always ended up Bankrupt, selling her lands to Cu, while Diarmuid would slowly fall too; not without putting up a fight and refusing to sell Broadway and a couple of trips to Jail. Honestly, once all the lands are taken and they're erecting hotels all very the place—jail is the only place you could be safe from bankruptcy.

"Oh god, no." Diarmuid was quick to complain, "Not today, Grainne and I are going for Ice cream tomorrow morning."

"Morning?" Scáthach asked, "Dia, I have told you that Ice cream is not good to have in the morning. In fact, I scolded you two days ago."

Diarmuid blushed, a hand already shooting up to cover his face, "W-well, Grainne insisted."

"Ah, so if she insists you jump off a cliff, would you?"

Amber eyes blinked, "Scat, please, that's ridiculous."

"I call the dog." Lancelot interrupted the small quarrel, setting up the board game.

"No! It's mine!" Cu gasped, launching himself towards the small trinket in the Violet haired man's hands.

Lancelot dodged him just in time. Falling over onto the couch, "I called it first. They don't call me Mad Dog for nothing."

Cu narrowed his scarlet eyes, which seemed to glow with determination, "Neither do the call me Hound if I don't bite," His tongue flickered over his unusually sharp canines.

Lancelot cracked an uncharacteristic smile.

"Lancelot, give the dog to Cu," Arturia walked up to her friend, who was already standing at a position of attack, ready to fight for his right to use the dog.

Lancelot's features hardened back to those common to him, "But—"

"Lancelot," Arturia nagged, placing a hand on his—the one that held the dog, "We are their guests, now do return it and settle for… the ship!"

"The ship?" He blinked his lifeless gray eyes, "No."

"The thumbnail?"

"No."

"Fine; take the ship and I'll get you chocolate tomorrow."

Lancelot was not too convinced, but candy always sounded tempting, "Deal." He huffed as he placed the dog trinket on the table and immediately, Cu thanked Arturia and sat down, ready for the game.