Rafe walked down the hallway, feeling much fresher now that he had a shower and a shave. Any effects of sleep deprivation he'd been feeling earlier were gone, and his body felt less sore overall. For the first time since he got there, he was in a pretty good mood.

Sam and Sully were still at the table when he entered the kitchen, eating some congealed mass of meat and fat and biscuits. He didn't look too closely.

"There he is," Sam commented when he saw him, then glanced at the clock. "Are you sure you're clean enough? You were only in there for an hour."

"I don't tell you how to shower, do I?" Rafe responded, "Even though it's clearly a foreign concept to you."

"You want a foreign concept? I'll give you a few," Sam held up two fingers, "Well water, and limited capacity heaters. We don't have a magical tap that never runs out of hot water here."

"If you're worried about that, then you'll be happy to know that I don't take scalding hot showers, they're bad for your skin," Rafe told him. "Not that it's any of your business. There should be plenty left for your five minutes of whatever you do in there."

"That still doesn't mean you can take an hour," Sam reiterated. "We're limited to collected rain water, unless you want to start bathing in the ocean, or relying on Shoreline to get here with a tank. Neither of those sound like good options to me."

Rafe took a deep breath. No, he wasn't going to let Sam ruin his mood. "If that was a concern, then maybe you should have chosen an island with an underground spring," he said, "Or invested in a desalination treatment pump. Really, I don't know why I wasn't consulted for any of this. There are a lot of oversights I could have avoided."

"Those 'oversights' just have to do with using our resources responsibly," Sam shook his head. "You're a businessman. You have to have some concept of budgeting."

"There's smart budgeting, and there's being stringent," Rafe stated, then he turned towards Sully, ending the conversation. The old man looked like the only reason he was still awake was because there was food in front of him, and the walk back to his room was too long for an empty stomach. He smiled politely. "I've had enough of being cooped up in the house, so I'm going to take a walk. Do you have shoes for me somewhere, or should I get the ones I arrived with?"

Sully gestured towards the living room. "There's a coat closet across from the door in there. Look on the top shelf, you'll see a couple boxes. We got shoes and sandals for you."

Rafe nodded and looked in the living room. Technically that was where the front door was, but he'd never actually seen anyone use it yet; everything was done through the kitchen entrance. He stepped into the room and crossed over to the door.

"Do you want some company on your walk?" Sully called out to him.

"Only if that's your way of telling me I need someone to come with me," Rafe answered. He found the closet and opened the door. Somehow, it wasn't as disastrous as he was expecting. He guessed that it didn't get much use- the coats hanging inside didn't even smell like smoke- so it never got the chance to turn into a mess.

"No," Sully answered, then yawned, "Like I said, there's not much you can get up to out there. Just remember, kid, you got around four hours until lunch, and you still have dishes to wash. Don't make us come looking for you."

"I wouldn't make you do anything, Sully." Rafe pulled one of the boxes down and opened it. He grimaced and immediately shoved it back up. No, he was not going to be seen by anyone wearing those sandals. He reached for the other box, hoping the shoes would be a bit more tasteful. There was a simple pair of sneakers inside, not even name brand, but at least they fit and didn't look like something from Amish Country. He was going to have to ask Sully for better ones on the next supply drop.

He put them on and tied them tightly, then opened the front door and left without a word.

Rafe returned three and a half hours later, having buried all evidence that he took anything from the pantry at all. He didn't need to spend all that time out there, but he figured that it was the longest amount of time he could be away without facing any consequences when he got back. Besides, he had sand in his shoes from the walk, so he wanted to go inside anyway. He walked around the house to the front door, the proper way to enter a house, and pushed it open.

When he stepped inside, Sam was in the living room and Sully was nowhere to be seen.

Rafe opened the closet and kicked his shoes in. "Where's the old man?"

"He went back to sleep after we finished eating," Sam answered. He didn't even need to look up from the book he was reading. "There's a shoe rack in there, use it."

"That wasn't on my list of chores, sorry," Rafe shut the door and threw Sam a fake smile.

"No, but 'respect the property' is one of the rules," Sam glanced up, "Did you want to talk about that?"

Rafe's smile faltered for a second, then returned in full force. "Then again, Sully's clearly gone senile; I wouldn't want him to wander in there and break a hip." He opened the door and bent down to put them away correctly.

"That's the spirit," Sam looked back at his book. "Did you enjoy your walk?"

"It got me away from you, so yes, I'd say it was very enjoyable." Rafe remarked, then straightened up and walked towards the kitchen. "Are you planning on making something for lunch?"

"Not really," Sam answered, "I was just going to reheat some soup. Why?"

"If you're not making anything, that means these dishes don't have to be done until dinner. You won't need the sink."

Sam smirked. "Nice try, but that's not how it works. You have them ready so I have the option to cook with a clean sink, it doesn't mean I will. Besides, if you leave them in there too long, the kitchen will start to smell. I thought you were all about hygiene."

"Not when it's a waste of my time," Rafe muttered to himself, but he knew he wasn't going to win this argument and he sure as hell didn't want Sully waking up to the sounds of Sam smacking his ass. He turned the faucet on and waited for it to get hot. The pots and pans Sam had used earlier were already cleaned and set on the stove to dry, so Rafe had room in the dish drain for his portion. He let the water run an unnecessarily long amount of time, just to annoy Sam, then he picked up the sponge and began to wash.

Halfway through, Sam got up from his book and came in the kitchen to check on his progress. "No," he shook his head after looking through the dishes that had been 'washed'. "Rafe, half of these aren't even done yet, I can see the grease from here. Remember what I told you about feeling them to see if they're clean?"

"Fuck off, Sam," Rafe responded evenly.

"Could you at least try to wash them the right way?" Sam reached over to start putting the dirty ones back in the sink.

"I am trying," Rafe growled and pushed Sam's hand away. "At least let me finish first."

"You're not finishing anything if you're only doing half the job."

Rafe threw his sponge into the sink and stepped back. He had a strong urge to punch Sam, and he was trying hard to control it; he didn't need a discussion for the third day in a row, and he wasn't going to put himself in the corner to calm down. His fist clenched, then he forced it to relax again. He wasn't going to hit, but he had to do something.

The pans on the stove caught his eye, and he reached for one. It was a better-quality pan that Sam had used every day so far, so it wasn't a stretch to think that it was one of his favorites. He turned back towards the older Drake with the pan held over his head. "Back off," he glared, "Or I swear to God, I will slam this into the floor as hard as I can."

Sam eyed him for a moment. Then he calmly opened a drawer, took something out, and laid it on the counter. He crossed his arms and leaned back, looking back at Rafe.

Rafe frowned, confused, and lowered the pan in front of him while he tried to make sense of it. "What… Why did you do that?"

Sam raised a brow. "Why do you think?"

"I have no idea," Rafe answered.

"If you break that pan, what do you think is going to happen?"

Rafe looked at him sharply, the implication dawning on him. "Sam, that's a spoon."

"A wooden spoon, yeah."

"That's unhygienic."

Sam couldn't keep from smirking. Rafe was a lot more naïve in the discipline area than he thought, and he wasn't expecting much to begin with. "You won't care much about hygiene once I start using it."

"But it's a spoon," Rafe couldn't even begin to grasp the logic behind it. "Why would you use a spoon?"

Sam shrugged. "Throw the pan and find out."

Rafe eyed him, then lifted the pan over his head again. "Go back to your book and let me finish washing the dishes. When I'm done, then you can come out and tell me which ones I need to redo. Just let me get through this part in peace, alright?"

Sam thought it over, then nodded and put the spoon away. "Okay. Don't get upset with me if I tell you to do them all over again, though."

"I won't." Rafe lowered the pan and set it back on the stove. He waited for Sam to leave the room before doing anything else. Once he was by himself again, he looked through the dishes in the drain to find the ones Sam was talking about and put them back in the sink. Then he picked up the sponge and restarted the annoying process of washing them.

Twenty minutes passed, along with two more bouts of re-washing, before Sam was finally satisfied with the cleaning job. Rafe washed his hands, feeling like after all the grease he had been forced to touch, that they'd never be clean again.

When he was done, he looked over at Sam, who was standing nearby after the final inspection. "Get me some water to drink."

Sam raised a brow. "No."

Rafe paused and turned fully towards Sam, crossing his arms in a matching stance. "I can't get it myself, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember," Sam confirmed, "Ask me nicely and then I'll be happy to get it for you."

Rafe glared at him for a full thirty seconds, not saying anything. Sam was not the person to be lecturing him on manners.

Sam matched the stare. "I'm waiting," he said after a moment, "Feel free to ask anytime."

Rafe shook his head and turned towards the cupboard. "I'm getting it myself." He opened it up and reached for a glass.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, especially if you don't want to find out what's so special about the spoon," Sam commented, keeping his tone casual.

Rafe glared at him and put it back. "Yeah, like I'm going to give you that satisfaction. Never mind, I'm not as thirsty as I thought I was."

"Fine with me." Sam stood up straight and walked towards the living room.

Rafe narrowed his eyes, watching him. He was tempted to just get the drink anyway, now that Sam's back was turned, but he knew that it would only end badly. Sam was just looking for an excuse to assert his authority after this morning.

He chose to forget the drink and go to his room, where he wouldn't have to be around Sam anymore, and walked to the hallway. Just as he was about to open his door, another one opened and Sully stepped out, accompanied by the choking smell of cigar smoke that permeated his room.

"Ah, good morning, kid," Sully smiled. "You're back."

"I am," Rafe eyed him. "It's almost noon, Sullivan."

If having his full name thrown at him bothered Sully, he didn't show it. "Technically still the A.M.," he smirked, then he reached out to pat Rafe on his shoulder. "Look kid, I'm not the nicest person when I wake up too early. I may have been a bit grumpier than I should have been this morning."

Rafe shrugged the hand off. "I hadn't noticed," he said. "You seemed your usual, charming self. Does this mean that I can get my own food again?"

"No," Sully answered, "You were still being a royal pain, and you have to deal with the consequences for that. I'm just saying that I could've handled it a bit better. If you want to avoid getting snapped at, plan your stunts for the afternoon. It's not good to poke the sleeping bear."

Rafe fought the urge to roll his eyes. He wondered if the old man knew exactly what he was implying with that phrase- probably not, considering his reputation with the women.

He glanced back at the kitchen, then inclined his head and smiled. "If you say so, Sully," he said, speaking loud enough so Sam could hear, "If that's still the case, could you please get me a glass of water?"

Sully looked a little puzzled, but agreed. "Certainly. You don't have to speak up, I'm not deaf yet, you know. Want me to bring it to your room?"

"Yes, please," Rafe confirmed, then opened his door. "And thank you."

It wasn't long after Rafe got his water that he was called back to the kitchen for lunch. He groaned to himself before opening the door to the hallway; he just escaped from being in the same room as Sam, and now he had to go through it again. Still, he wasn't going to hide in his room and let them think they were getting to him.

Sully was already at the table with a bowl of re-heated soup and something fried that Rafe didn't look at long enough to figure out what it was. He didn't need ulcers before turning forty.

Sam was ladling a bowl of soup for himself. He glanced over at Rafe when he heard him step in. "You can have soup or you can have a salad," he told him. "And if you want a salad, let me know what you want on it."

Rafe thought about it for a moment. After being outside, he wanted something refreshing. "Almonds, carrots, tomatoes, dried fruit." He paused, thinking, then held up a finger. "Vinaigrette."

"I still didn't hear a please," Sam commented, but he let it slide. "Do you want cucumbers too? Or a boiled egg?"

"Yes to cucumbers, no to the egg," Rafe answered, choosing to ignore the first part.

Sam shook his head and put his bowl on the table, then went to the fridge so he could start putting the salad together.

Rafe walked around Sully and pulled a chair out so he could sit down, then he set his glass in front of the older man. "Refill?"

"Sure. What do you want to drink?" Sully asked.

"Water," Rafe answered. "It's the only drinkable thing in there."

Sully grabbed his glass and stood. "If you wanted something else, you should have asked for it when we went over the inventory."

"You're assuming that I'd want some store-bought crap," Rafe leaned back in his seat. "That stuff does more harm than good."

"Oh, of course," Sully smirked to himself. "I guess that means the juice we have is a no-go. What's the alternative, then?"

"Easy. Chop up some lemons and cucumbers, put those in a pitcher with some mint leaves," Rafe answered. "Or, you know, it's hot enough outside. You could make some sun-brewed tea and throw it on ice."

"You'd rather drink vegetable water than juice?" Sully wrinkled his nose. "What the hell is sun-brewed tea? If you want iced tea, we can just buy some, or get a mix."

Rafe grimaced. "That's not real tea. That's cancer in powdered form."

"We can make something after lunch," Sam spoke up. "There should be a big enough container we can keep it in somewhere around here. You'll have to help me with the specifics, though."

Rafe frowned, weighing the costs and benefits of having something better to drink verses spending time around Sam. Overall, it shouldn't take more than ten minutes to do. "I suppose that wouldn't kill me."

"Good," Sam said. "What a tough guy, being able to mix things with water without keeling over."

Rafe rolled his eyes, but didn't take the bait. It wasn't worth it.

Sully smirked and set the glass of water on the table. At least, in a way, they were getting along. "So, kid, did you enjoy your walk? Not a bad place to be stranded, right?"

"Not bad at all," Rafe agreed and took a sip from his glass. "A little warm, maybe, but I can't complain. The eastern Mediterranean is always a bit hot this time of year."

Sam looked up from the salad he was mixing and eyed Sully uncertainly, but Sully just chuckled. "So, you figured out where we are, hm? Not a bad guess, kid."

Rafe shrugged. "I saw the Cyprus trees. It didn't take much figuring out after that. I'm just not sure if we're in the Greek part or the Italian part, not that it matters. There are a lot of private islands around both, and people know not to disturb them. I was thinking of buying one for myself, actually, before I bought that cathedral."

"Well, you can always have this one when the year is up," Sully smirked. "I don't think Shoreline will get much use from it afterwards."

"Sure," Rafe nodded, "I'd like to obliterate it from the map. How much extra do you think I'd have to pay for you and Sam to still be on it?"

Sully smoothed down his mustache in thought. "Speaking for myself, just enough to cover the cost of all the hookers and booze you'd need for a distraction, probably."

"I'm not sure if even I can afford that," Rafe said drily.

"Victor, don't encourage him," Sam spoke up. "He thinks about killing us enough as it is, he doesn't need any help."

"Why not?" Sully grinned, "There are worse ways to go."

"Maybe for you. I've still got some things I want to do with my life." Sam carried the finished salad to the table and set it down in front of Rafe, then opened the bottle of vinaigrette. "Tell me when."

"Just a little," Rafe told him. "I don't need my lettuce to drown."

Sam complied, drizzling a little over the top. Then he put it away and finally sat down to eat.

Rafe stabbed a tomato with his fork and munched on it. All things considered, the day was going in his favor. He just needed to make it to the night without any incidents, and let the two other men have a chance to relax. Tomorrow, he was going to start testing them.