***Smiling Faces---Present Day***
As soon as she walked into the kitchen, Tessa could see that Duncan had worked himself into a ball of pent-up emotion in the few brief minutes she had spent with Richie. He was taking this hard. Harder than she had expected. Of course she had expected that her over-protective lover would be upset when she told him about Richie's injury, but she couldn't remember any other time in the twelve years they had been together that she had ever seen him this visibly shaken.
When he finally noticed her concerned expression, he immediately stopped pacing, not wanting her to see how upset he truly was. He didn't realize that his vice-grip on Richie's bloodstained t-shirt was a dead giveaway. As he unsuccessful attempted to reassure her with a brief smile, he found himself reflecting on the lack of success that same forced smile had on him when Richie used it.
***Flashback---Duncan's perspective***
As he silently drove back towards the store, Duncan tried to contain his desire to gloat. Not only had he managed to make the teen silently dumbfounded, but he had also gotten the boy to come with him with surprising ease. Casual had definitely been the right approach. Discussing what his plans had been at that jewelry store could wait.
While pulling into the alleyway, Duncan found himself regarding the child seated rigidly to his left and wondering how on earth he was going to handle him. After nearly four centuries, he certainly had his fair share of interacting with various individuals, but this was one situation where he just couldn't seem to find any previous experience to draw from.
"Hungry?" He tried to keep the question as light as possible.
But the response was just so tiresome. "I'm not going in there."
The teenager was finally getting over his shock at being taken home to dinner by the man who kept stopping his criminal ventures. Duncan silently prayed that the shock hadn't completely worn off. He wanted to get the boy inside the house and seated in front of a hot meal before dealing with his defensive attitude. Finally deciding to take his chances and ignore the refusal to enter the shop, Duncan simply climbed out of the car and rounded it to open the passenger door. When the teenager remained seated, the Immortal casually leaned over, unbuckled the seatbelt and gently pulled the boy out by his upper arm to lead him inside.
"Wash up. You're making the salad."
When the teenager looked at him as if he had gone insane, Duncan added, "Soap's right here." He held out the bottle to the boy and began running the water for good measure. After a few long moments' hesitation, the overwhelmed youth slowly neared Duncan and cautiously took the bottle from him. Duncan pulled out some broccoli and began slicing it on the nearby countertop as the teenager washed.
It was the boy's silent grimace that brought Duncan's attention back to the sink. That's when he noticed the tattered hands. Setting down his knife, he leaned over and gently grasped the frightened teen's right wrist.
"What happened here?" He questioned, turning the palm down to examine the injuries.
When Duncan pulled the hand back again following the boy's recoiling of it, the Immortal was struck by the teen's hallow laugh.
"Forgot what I do already?"
Like hell he had. The young man's penchant for crime was the reason they were there in the first place. Well, part of the reason at least.
"This looks pretty nasty." Duncan said, ignoring the boy's facetious question.
The child's response was nearly immediate. "It looks worse than it is."
"It needs properly treated." Duncan shot back, unconvinced.
Unfortunately, the boy wasn't exactly anxious to have anyone looking after any part of him, and especially not Duncan MacLeod. He shot what Duncan later would identify as his "I'm dying here but I'm never going to admit it" smile. "Really. It's cool." But Duncan wasn't buying for a minute. The forced smile only managed to steel his resolve to have the hand treated.
As soon as she walked into the kitchen, Tessa could see that Duncan had worked himself into a ball of pent-up emotion in the few brief minutes she had spent with Richie. He was taking this hard. Harder than she had expected. Of course she had expected that her over-protective lover would be upset when she told him about Richie's injury, but she couldn't remember any other time in the twelve years they had been together that she had ever seen him this visibly shaken.
When he finally noticed her concerned expression, he immediately stopped pacing, not wanting her to see how upset he truly was. He didn't realize that his vice-grip on Richie's bloodstained t-shirt was a dead giveaway. As he unsuccessful attempted to reassure her with a brief smile, he found himself reflecting on the lack of success that same forced smile had on him when Richie used it.
***Flashback---Duncan's perspective***
As he silently drove back towards the store, Duncan tried to contain his desire to gloat. Not only had he managed to make the teen silently dumbfounded, but he had also gotten the boy to come with him with surprising ease. Casual had definitely been the right approach. Discussing what his plans had been at that jewelry store could wait.
While pulling into the alleyway, Duncan found himself regarding the child seated rigidly to his left and wondering how on earth he was going to handle him. After nearly four centuries, he certainly had his fair share of interacting with various individuals, but this was one situation where he just couldn't seem to find any previous experience to draw from.
"Hungry?" He tried to keep the question as light as possible.
But the response was just so tiresome. "I'm not going in there."
The teenager was finally getting over his shock at being taken home to dinner by the man who kept stopping his criminal ventures. Duncan silently prayed that the shock hadn't completely worn off. He wanted to get the boy inside the house and seated in front of a hot meal before dealing with his defensive attitude. Finally deciding to take his chances and ignore the refusal to enter the shop, Duncan simply climbed out of the car and rounded it to open the passenger door. When the teenager remained seated, the Immortal casually leaned over, unbuckled the seatbelt and gently pulled the boy out by his upper arm to lead him inside.
"Wash up. You're making the salad."
When the teenager looked at him as if he had gone insane, Duncan added, "Soap's right here." He held out the bottle to the boy and began running the water for good measure. After a few long moments' hesitation, the overwhelmed youth slowly neared Duncan and cautiously took the bottle from him. Duncan pulled out some broccoli and began slicing it on the nearby countertop as the teenager washed.
It was the boy's silent grimace that brought Duncan's attention back to the sink. That's when he noticed the tattered hands. Setting down his knife, he leaned over and gently grasped the frightened teen's right wrist.
"What happened here?" He questioned, turning the palm down to examine the injuries.
When Duncan pulled the hand back again following the boy's recoiling of it, the Immortal was struck by the teen's hallow laugh.
"Forgot what I do already?"
Like hell he had. The young man's penchant for crime was the reason they were there in the first place. Well, part of the reason at least.
"This looks pretty nasty." Duncan said, ignoring the boy's facetious question.
The child's response was nearly immediate. "It looks worse than it is."
"It needs properly treated." Duncan shot back, unconvinced.
Unfortunately, the boy wasn't exactly anxious to have anyone looking after any part of him, and especially not Duncan MacLeod. He shot what Duncan later would identify as his "I'm dying here but I'm never going to admit it" smile. "Really. It's cool." But Duncan wasn't buying for a minute. The forced smile only managed to steel his resolve to have the hand treated.
