Murtagh stood in the middle of the quiet room, not knowing what to say. The day really had been a lot more eventful than he thought it would have been. He wasn't good with words. He never had been. He had always let actions speak for him.

Billy startled when he felt arms slip around him, and a head of soft hair tuck under his chin. With a sigh he wrapped his arms around his son and just held him tightly.

After awhile Murtagh giggled, "So you're a Gang Lord, uh?"

Billy chuckled and let go of the boy, "Yeah. That's what they call me." He rubbed his face tiredly, "I've got to set up gates." he noticed the faint trickle of red in Murtaghs hands, "Let me see that." He ordered. Murtagh showed him his hands, which were coated in red and sticky liquid. "Fuck, I'm gonna decapitate that bitch!" Billy hissed as he hurried to find his medic box. Yes, he actually had one. In his line of work, both minor and larger wounds were not unusual, and most of the guys would rather bleed out or get their cuts infected than take a ten-minute trip to the clinic. He had found out quickly that paper tore to easily and cotton just got stuck in the wound, so compressed linen with a cotton core would have to do. "Rinse your hands in the sink."

Murtagh complied the order and hissed as the cold water made contact with his skin. Billy dried his hands with a black towel and hoisted the boy up to sit on the kitchen counter. Murtagh was a bit miffed over being treated like a child, but he had the feeling that it was not because his dad didn't think he was able to take care of himself or that he was just useless.

He supposed it was something along the lines of what he was feeling. He'd never had a real dad, and now that he had one, he wanted to hide under his wing and just hide in safety. His dad was probably feeling the same – only in reverse; that he had lost him as a baby, and that he just wanted to wrap him up and curl around him, like he had in the picture.

All his life he had wondered what he would have been like if he had grown up with his dad. He wondered if his dad would still have been a Gang Lord if he hadn't lost them.

"This is gonna sting." He said and poured some voka on the dot of cotton. "I ran out of anti-sceptics the last time Heco decided to try to make dinner."

Murtagh giggled and hardly noticed the sting in his hand. What he did notice was his fathers careful handling of his injury. His dad had nice hands he noticed. Well, they were the same as his, only rougher and more solid, but girl had said that he had really nice hands.

They were lightly tanned from the summer sun and had tiny freckles. Even the slightly pink skin on their knuckles were the same. Billy put some narrow stick-on-stitches to keep the cut together, and put a patch on top of it before taping it stuck and repeating the actions on his other hand.

"They were just paper-cuts."

"They were deep ones." Billy replied and smacked the lid shut. "Do you have any stuff that needs picking up?" he asked.

"No…not really." Murtagh said sadly. Billy looked at him oddly. "Morzan smashed my guitar –"

"You play?"

"Yeah," Murtaghs eyes lit up, "I love it."

"I used to play to – not so often now though. Don't always have the time, but I try to keep from rusting too much"

"Really?"

"Yeah. Now, I had planned some shopping for us – fuck!" Billy cursed as his phone rang. "What?"

"Hey man, you coming in today or what?"

""No, I'm busy."

"doing what?"

"Shopping." The line went silent.

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah. M'boy needs some stuff, so we're going shopping."

"You're not going soft on us are you?"

"I'll still cut your arms off if you keep fucking around with that deal." Billy warned, ignoring Murtaghs grin.

"You'll still pick up the do' and drop it off at your old man's right, 'cause dealing with that fucker ain't a part of my job description man."

"Yeah, I'll be by."

"Bringing the scion?"

Billy grinned, "Probably." With that he hung up.

"So I'm 'The Scion' now then?" Murtagh grinned.

"They seem to like you." Billy said and grabbed his jacket, sunglasses, car keys and his wallet. "Let's go shopping."