A/N: Thanks to Kittypawswrites for the review and follow. You know I have to keep my Jim safe, so don't fret about his safety. Reviews drive me on, keep them coming everyone. Standard shout out/credit to ACD, Mofitiss, and the actors who made these characters who they are.

Chapter 3:

Sebastian and Heather finished the bottle of whiskey before the entrée was served. "Shall we go for a second bottle or something else" asked Heather. Sebastian smirked and responded, "Oh, lady's choice, Kitten."

"That's why I'm asking you, Bash. You're looking a little sloppy, my friend," teased Heather. She knew how proud of his drinking tolerance Sebastian was, but also how very easy it was to wind him up. Truth be told, Heather was starting to feel the overly relaxing effects of the rich, brown liquor on her brain, but knew she couldn't go down that easy. Not with all the bragging she had been doing. "You sure you don't want some water to sip on? There's no shame in admitting defeat when you're in the company of superior competitor."

"Ha-ha, may I remind you, Kitten, that I'm Irish. Drinking is our national pastime. Like eating is for you Americans'."

"Bash, you forget that I still have dual citizenship. I never did get around to renouncing my British citizenship when I turned 18. Also, baseball is our national pastime. Americans just eat every time we feel an emotion. It's our version of a British stiff upper lip. Happy? Eat something. Sad? Eat something? 2:22 pm on a day that ends in "y?" Eat something. It's a proud American tradition. In fact, it's that tradition that keeps my fellow doctors in big business. How about we change it up and do some tequila shots?"

At that moment, Erin brought over the Sheppard's pies and set them down in front of the couple. "Two Sheppard's pies. Wow, you guys finished the whiskey already? That was quick! What can I get ya now?"

"Well, Erin, first these look amazing. Thanks so much. Second, can you set us up for a few rounds of tequila shots? Actually, on second thought, bring us the bottle and shot glasses and we'll take it from there." Turning towards her companion, Heather asked, "Bash, the worm is all you, cause you know this sister friend don't eat creepy crawlies, baby!"

Sebastian shot her a contemptuous look and dug into his entrée. He chewed a bite and swallowed. "Blimey, Heather, this is amazing! You were right. I dare say this is better than my mam's."

"Bash, honey, the worm in the bottle of tequila is better than your mom's cooking. Face it, that woman couldn't boil water if her life depended on it. How you managed not to die of starvation and/or malnutrition when you were growing up, I'll never understand. And don't even bother acting mad, because you know it's true."

"Whatever, at least my mam, isn't nutty than a walnut grove," retorted Sebastian.

"Yeah, you got me there. My family certainly does put the "fun" in dysfunctional." Speaking of which, you'll never guess what Satan is doing now." Satan is what Heather called her next older sister, who had to be the most irritatingly impossible person on God's green earth. Jennifer had been a troublemaker her entire life, but as soon as she had kids, she suddenly got a stick up her arse about everything under the sun and seemed to enjoy being the most horrifically sanctimonious individual, past, present, and future. She smacked of disingenuousness and was so fake it was sickening. "She's decided that she NEEDS to be a stay at home mom now. Daye is a senior in high school and Aiden is in 8th grade. They don't need her at home now. Daye called me the other day in tears because her mom grounded her for 3 months because she brought home a "B" in Calculus 2. Three months!? For a "B?" She's already been admitted to Harvard with a full ride. She didn't want or need to take the class. The poor girl isn't very good at math and doesn't need it for graduation and Harvard doesn't care what she takes this year. They're still taking her. My sister is riding her to death. It makes me sick. But of course, because I don't have kids, I can't say word one about how to raise them. Like somehow giving birth bestows upon you some sort of magical, mystical knowledge. I would think I would at least a little qualified to deal with psychological issues, seeing as I have a Bachelors, Masters, and Doctorate in Psych, but nope. I need to have had a human being drop out of my crotch to gain that ancient knowledge. Ugh, I swear!"

Sebastian just smiled and kept eating the amazing pie. Heather may have all sorts of quirks, but she was by far the most normal person in her family. Her family made his look almost that family from that American show about the woodchuck or beaver or whatever the hell it was from the 1950s. What was that thing called? Something about some woodland creature. There was a snot nosed suck up kid named Eddie in it. Sebastian realized that he had zoned out for a second and looked up to see that Heather was chugging straight from the tequila bottle. "Woah, slow down there Kitten. Pace yourself."

"Sorry, you know how much I love talking about my family. They are just the absolute light of my life." Heather rolled her eyes and dove into her Sheppard's pie. "Mmmmm, this is heavenly. I love this place. It is great, right? A little slice of the old Emerald Isle, huh?" Heather smiled and put down her fork. "Speaking of which, I had an interesting phone call the other day. Um, it's probably a really stupid idea and I'm – I'm sure that even if I applied I wouldn't get it and it's silly really and I'm not even sure I totally want to do it and I mean, it would an amazing opportunity for me, not only professionally, but also personally, and it's not like I have anything really keeping me here. It's just it's so …"

"Heather, slow down! Take a breath. You're rambling again." Sebastian reached across the table and loosely grabbed her right wrist and started to stroke her right palm, knowing that that was one of the best ways to bring his friend back from the edge of a burgeoning panic attack. "First, who called? What did they want?"

Heather took a deep breath and said, "Well, it was from an old school friend from Harvard actually, Jack Johnson. He's a recruiter with St. Bartholomew's Hospital in London. He said that there was an opening in their Trauma department for a surgeon and when his boss found out that Jack knew me from school, he told him to give me a call. They are interested in talking to me about maybe working there. I mean it would only be part time, but I must admit it does sound mildly tempting. I do miss living in England. And like I said, it would be a cool opportunity at least personally, if not professionally." She took a sip of the tequila. "It is kind of flattering, at least, to know that I'm attracting international attention. But I don't know. It's a huge change and I just don't know if I'm in a place in my life to make a huge change. My life is kind of in a good place now, which is somewhere it hasn't been for a long time. I … I just don't know quite what to do. What do you think?"

Sebastian looked at his friend and was quiet for a moment. "Do you want the friend answer or the honest answer?"

Heather grinned. "Both."

"Friend answer? Kitten, you do what feels right. You don't owe anyone anything. I will support you 100% no matter what you do. Honest answer? Who the hell are you and what have you done with my fierce, fearless Kitten with Claws? The Heather I know would be packing her bags and flying over there post haste and knocking the socks of those St. Bart's people with her talent, smarts, and charm. She's a tornado in stilettos. She is second to none and knows it. She's an unstoppable force who gets what she wants every time, no matter the cost." Sebastian threw down a shot of tequila. "So, the question I have for you is, are you a kitten with a lower case "k" or the Kitten with an upper case "K."

Maybe it was the booze talking, but Heather knew her friend was not wrong. "You are absolutely right! I will call Jack back in the morning. I'm going to do it. But I'm not settling for a part time job. I want a full-time job on my terms. Nothing less than the best for me. I'm completely worth it and if they can't see it, then too frickin' bad for them. I'm amazing!" Heather poured and knocked back two more shots of tequila. "Thanks Bash! You are the best."