The bathtub water was pitch dirty by the time Amanda finished soaking in it, and left a black ring around the edge when she got done washing her clothes in it by hand. They weren't actually clean, but as far as they could tell, there was no washer/dryer anywhere in the building, idiotic though that was, so they'd have to make do this way. She put her shirt, her jeans, and her jacket on three hangers and suspended them from the light fixture to drip dry.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd actually had a bath, she'd been keeping herself 'fresh' the last few days with a perfume sample she'd gotten from a department store, and with a daily washing of her face in any public restroom she was able to stop in at. Her clothes were a whole other matter, they were filthy, they were beyond filthy, she loved them because they were the only ones she had, but if she didn't have to, she'd just as soon throw them away, or burn them, rather than try and get them cleaned. For something to change into, she'd gone through MacLeod's closet and taken out a shirt that looked like it would be long on her. Pulling it on over her head, and letting it drop its full length, she looked at herself in the bathroom mirror and realized it could've fit two of her. But, it would have to do for now.

"Your turn," she said as she opened the door and about knocked over Methos, who was waiting right by it.

"About time," he sneered.

"What're you complaining about?" Amanda asked as she stepped out of the bathroom, "You never bathe."

"Not true," he replied haughtily as he threw his head back and stuck his nose in the air, "I bathe every spring, whether I need it or not."

"You need it," Amanda as she inhaled.

As the bathroom door shut, Amanda heard the sound of laughter from across the loft. She strode over to the couch where Richie was watching her instead of the TV and she put her hands on her hips and told him firmly, "You're next."

"But I had a bath," he told her.

"When?" she asked skeptically.

Jokingly he replied, "July 4, 1910, I was too young to fight about it then."

Amanda glared down at him and asked in a commanding tone, "What're you going to do?"

"Take a bath," he replied in a slightly intimidated squeak.

"Uh huh, that's what I thought," she said.

Amanda went over to the bedroom area and started rummaging through the drawers in MacLeod's dresser.

"Jeans, shirts, socks…underwear," she turned her nose up, "Belts, ties, doesn't anyone keep anything interesting in their drawers anymore?"

"I guess not!" Richie called from the couch as he watched a show on TV.

Amanda turned up her nose as she rifled through the contents of another drawer and grumbled to herself, "Too much to ask to keep something good around worth finding…a gun maybe, or some neat old photos…money…hello!"

"What is it?" Richie asked, standing up on the couch to see into the bedroom.

Amanda took a card out of the drawer. "A credit card…looks current too."

"So what?" Richie asked as he sat back down, clearly unimpressed.

"So," Amanda walked over towards the couch and told the boy, "As long as we're here, we can use this and get anything we need, more food, new clothes, anything. That way we won't have to use any of our own money and we'll still be well off: behold, the temple of no questions asked."

"I think that's called fraud, Amanda," Richie said.

"No, Richie, that's called Cover Your Assets," Amanda told him, "It's brilliant, besides, it's his own fault for leaving it behind. In any case we'll certainly be long gone before he ever gets the bill, there'll be absolutely no way anybody could tie the charges back to us."

Richie just shrugged and turned his attention back to the TV. Amanda tried to decide where to put the American Express card, realizing she didn't currently have any pockets on her, and her only pockets were drip-drying in the bathroom at the moment. So, she went over to her backpack, and zipped it up with her skates.

Twenty minutes later, Methos also emerged from the bathroom, also changed into one of MacLeod's oversized shirts that hung off of him like an antiquated nightgown.

"Well, whatever he is, his choice of clothing is deplorable," he told Amanda.

Amanda tugged on her own shirt as if to prove a point and replied, "Who're you telling?"

Methos wandered over to the stereo system and sorted through the small CD collection, "His choice of music also sucks…opera…opera…opera…lot of opera here..." he tossed one CD like a Frisbee and let it hit the wall, "Gotta do something about this music, there's no Springsteen, no Queen."

"Yeah well I think I found something that'll make up for that," Amanda told Methos, "In his drawer he had a…"

Methos pointed to the boy on the couch and told her, "And who gets stuck cleaning him up?"

"You do," they both said at the same time.

"We'll both go," Amanda told him, "I need to get my clothes out of there anyway."

"What for?" Methos asked her, "They're still wet."

He turned his attention back to the couch and did a double take, Richie was gone.

"Gee, I wonder where he went?" Methos cynically asked as he walked over to the couch, and gave the side of it a firm kick, sending Richie scurrying out from underneath it, "Oh look! A red headed dust bunny, what're the odds?"

"I don't want a bath," Richie protested.

"I know," Methos remarked, grabbing the kid around the chest and lifting him off his feet, "And don't think I'm looking forward to it either."

"Why do I have to then?" Richie wanted to know.

"Because," Methos decided to explain it on the kid's level and told him, "As soon as you stop smelling like a wet dog, you'll be a lot harder for them to find."

"Really?"

Methos smirked to himself, damn kids, always so gullible, and the younger they were, the more they tended to believe everything you said. Right now though, he needed Richie to trust him, he considered it a personal, necessary evil, but it still had to be done.