"You look like hell, Joe."
"Yeah? You should see the other guy."
Duncan grinned and sat down on Joe's right. Methos took the chair on the left.
Joe ran a hand through his hair. "You know, I thought I was a pretty cool customer. I crawled on my belly through mud, was shot at more times than I can count, and stepped on a mine back in 'Nam. I got nothin' on that woman. Twenty-one hours," he let out a low whistle, "I don't know how she did it."
"Did you cut the cord or pass out?" Methos asked.
Joe looked sheepish as he mumbled the reply. "I passed out."
Methos laughed and pulled a bottle of Jameson 12 year out of his coat. "I told you to have a shot of this before you went in there."
Duncan clapped Joe on the back. "Congratulations, Dad." He produced four Cuban cigars from his inside pocket. "If you think Lauren can spare you for a bit, we'll go somewhere and smoke these in honor of the latest Dawson."
"Four?"
The click of Amanda's Jimmy Choos on the terrazzo floors of the waiting area was Joe's reply. "Joe, he's just gorgeous! Got his father's eyes. What are you naming him?"
"Richie."