"How'd I get out of my suit last night?" Machiavelli asked the next day. He had a slight headache and a fuzzy taste in his mouth that he suspected was from the wine, but no recollection of last night past a certain hour. He rubbed at his temples.

"Nicholas and I kind of wrestled you out of it after you passed out last night," Billy said, gently rubbing his back. "Now that you're actually taller than me," he fumbled with his words a little and coughed, "I have a hard time maneuvering you up the stairs and such. Wine makes you sleepy, huh?"

Machiavelli shrugged and nodded. He decided to be glad that Billy had gotten him out of his suit and not be embarrassed. "Yeah, kind of. When did I pass out?" He asked curiously, his Italian accent creeping out.

Nicholas tilted his head, thinking. "Halfway through the movie, I think. Columbo was just beginning to examine the safe."

"Ah, yes," Machiavelli agreed. "I was having trouble focusing last night. I kept getting distracted by the glass eye." He gestured at his own face.

"See, that's where we differ, Mac," Billy said, snapping his fingers and pointing at him. He got up and began to prepare breakfast. "Whenever I get very drunk, I spend the whole time trying to figure out which one's the glass eye."

"Am I the only one who watches Columbo for the story?" Nicholas asked mildly. Machiavelli grinned at him sheepishly.

"Where are the girls?" Machiavelli asked instead of answering.

"Perenelle tends to sleep in on her days off," Nicholas answered. "And Scatty's… walking? I think?" he said, hesitantly.

Billy finally sat down at the table. He handed the Italian immortal a glass of water and four small white pills. "Here you go, Mac. Bottoms up."

Nicholas watched him swallow. "How much did you drink last night then?"

"Mmm, two glasses?" Machiavelli speculated, looking over at the American. He quirked his eyebrows. Billy tilted his head and nodded. "Yeah, two glasses. I'm not drunk," he clarified. "I just always get hungover."

"Oh, I wasn't saying that." The Frenchman looked over at Billy. "What about you? Did you have fun last night?"

Billy nodded enthusiastically. "Sure. Mac's a great guy." He rested a hand on the back of Niccolo's neck and gently massaged the muscle there. "We talked a lot about Philadelphia, the place we're staying next. You ever stay there?"

Nicholas shook his head. "We stayed briefly in Buffalo, New York, to disastrous result. But mostly we stayed over here on the west coast."

"I think I'll like living on the east coast," Machiavelli said hesitantly. "There's a lot of cultural attractions over there. I've never been."

"I liked living on both sides," Billy said happily. He shoveled food in his mouth. Speaking around his mouthful of food, he continued. "That's why I keep places all over the country. I've got one up in New Hampshire too." He thumped the Italian on the back. "I told you about that one."

Machiavelli nodded. He felt the same jealous twinge that he had in the past, remembering Billy's story about the girl up there. "Will we go there, too?"

Billy thought about it. "We could."

~MB~

Billy drove the Flamels down to town after lunch. Perenelle could have driven the car, but Billy had some things to pick up before they could make their trip at the end of the week. They left Machiavelli at the cabin, afraid that his now noticeable growth would make an impression on the people at the stores.

The Italian immortal could see the reasoning behind the logic, but still wished he could have gone. The cabin was a little lonely by himself and so he was very glad when Scatty showed up from wherever she'd been hiding. "Scatty," he called, untangling himself the mess around him, suitcases open and gaping.

Scatty stepped carefully into the room. She glanced around the room. "Packing, huh?"

"Billy says we have to if we're going to leave on time," the Italian said, looking around the room. He sighed. It hadn't occurred to him that he was going to regret leaving the cabin as much as he did, but now he did.

"Come on, kid," Scatty said impatiently. She seemed ready to head out again and Machiavelli perked up at the opportunity to stall packing.

"Where are we going?" Machiavelli asked curiously. He followed her nonetheless. Scathach and him, while much closer than he had ever imagined they would be, didn't often spend time alone together. Scatty didn't answer him, just glanced back at him and grinned slightly. Nor would she answer him when he asked what was in the package she was carrying.

They crunched along on the given path for a while, sunlight slanting at them through the branches of the trees. As the forest got denser, less light came in, making the path darker. Eventually, they turned off the path entirely and walked into the forest.

Machiavelli was starting to get a little nervous. Speeding up so that he was right next to her, he grabbed at her hand. "Billy approved this?"

"He didn't say no."

"That's not a yes," Machiavelli said shrewdly. "Did you ask at all?" She chose to ignore this, but the gray eyed boy persisted. "Where are we going?" he asked again.

"Since I don't sleep a lot, I have a lot of time to explore," was her roundabout way of answering. She came to a halt in a clearing. "We'll stop here."

The Italian milled around the clearing. "What are we doing?" He looked back.

Scathach lunged at him unexpectedly. "What?" he dropped to the ground. "Scatty? What's going on? What are you doing?" he stammered.

"Training," Scatty said imperiously. She tossed him a wooden sword that matched the one she was wielding. Machiavelli hadn't even initially noticed the sword in her hand, it had seemed such a part of her. She swung it around. "Relax. If I hadn't wanted to kill you, I would have done it by now."

"Oh, yeah, now I can relax," Machiavelli said sarcastically, but he smiled. He held the sword carefully in front of him. "Teach me your ways then," he agreed happily.

Scatty came to stand behind him, which made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up a little. "For one thing, you're holding it the wrong way." She corrected his grip on the sword. With her foot she also moved his legs out a little so that he was standing in the proper position. "You want your legs out enough that you won't be swept off your feet."

"Actually, I'd love to be swept off my feet," Machiavelli joked. He grinned at her over his shoulder. His smile faltered at her stern expression. "No? We're not joking then? Okay." He went back into the stance she had positioned him in. After that, he followed her instructions to the letter, obediently following her directions. It was kind of fun, though he had a feeling the Shadow didn't intend for this to be a joyous occasion.

Scatty was drilling him as though he was joining the army. He couldn't help but smile which caused her to scowl. "Why are we doing this?" he asked finally, collapsing on the ground by her feet in a sweaty heap. He quickly amended his statement. "Not that I don't appreciate your training."

The Shadow dropped down beside him. She was as pristine as ever, despite their prolonged scuffle. "You need to be able to defend yourself out there."

"I have my aura," Machiavelli reminded her gently. "I'm hardly defenseless. And I'll have Billy to take care of me too. I'm going to teach him what I know and he'll teach me." Be he understood the motivations behind Scatty's actions and he was oddly touched.

"Let's just say I wanted to be sure you had some more options."

"You care about me don't you?" he teased. "After all these years, who'd have thought it?"

"No."

Machiavelli gave a quick laugh. He was all smiles. "You do! I have to be your favorite." He threw his arms around her impulsively. Scatty turned to stone under his touch, but he refused to draw away. "We've come a long way from where we were."

"Maybe," Scatty grudgingly allowed. She climbed to her feet. "Want to practice again before we go home?"

Machiavelli nodded. He was enjoying this exercise after spending a week inside. He sparred with Scatty, losing repeatedly. Though there was some improvement in the way he moved and fought, he would never touch her level of expertise. "This is one of those things I won't ever be good at," he decided towards the end of the afternoon. He leaned against Scatty, expecting her to object again. He was rather surprised when she slipped an arm around him.

"I do like you," she admitted, very quietly. He smiled.