Duncan MacLeod sighed, taking another swig from the already nearly empty beer can sitting next to the mousepad. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, wishing he was done balancing the checkbook rather than having just begun the task. He hated balancing the checkbook, and he knew he was going to be in for a long day.
Music drifted up the back stairwell from below - Richie was blasting some rock band or another from the gym downstairs. It was Sunday and the dojo was closed; the perfect time to practice fighting skills. Especially for Richie, who sometimes took the Game a bit too lightly. Although he had been Immortal for a while now, Mac still wanted him to spend time getting used to his sword, to truly make it a part of himself. Richie preferred to take the matter much less seriously, and Mac did not want him to lose his head because of it.
An hour passed before he even knew it; then another and part of a third. There were now three empty beer cans by the mousepad and Mac was about to get up for his fourth drink when he felt a light tap on his shoulder.
He whirled around, instinctively reaching for his sword, to find Richie standing there, holding the point of a pencil in his face.
"En garde, you fool!"
"Excuse me?"
The pencil moved right, left, then positioned itself in front of Mac's nose again.
"Fight me or die!" Richie crowed.
Mac suddenly grinned and pulled open his drawer, groping around for...there it was.
An antique letter-opener rose to meet the pencil.
"Touche."
*Clack, clack*
Richie jumped back, sporting a defensive pose as Mac rose with his own miniature blade and advanced.
*Clack, clack*
"Come on, Mac. You can do better than that!"
*Clack, clack*
"Ow!"
"Hah - you asked for it!"
*Clack, clack, clack*
Richie turned and ran, vaulting down the back stairs, Mac hot on his tail. Richie slid across the wood floor of the gym in his socked feet as MacLeod pounded after him. Richie ran for the office and returned a moment later, this time with a pencil in each hand.
"Hah! Face me now, if you dare!"
"Quality, not quantity." Mac jibed as he ran for the boy.
*Clack, clack, clack*
*Crack!*
"Mac! You broke my pencil!"
"I'm gonna break a lot more than that - ow!" Mac looked down at his arm, where there was now a dark grey streak across his skin. "What're you trying to do? Give me lead poisoning? I got news for you, Richie - it's not going to work."
"Well, it was worth a try!"
*Clack, clack*
"Give it up, Highlander!"
"Never!"
*Crack!*
"Ah! Another perfectly good pencil!"
"Yeah, you worry about that pencil..."
"Okay Mac, I yield. Good fight." Richie stuck out his hand as Mac lowered the letter-opener and extended his own hand.
As it was about to meet Richie's, the boy's proffered appendage disappeared, only to return a second later to smack the Highlander in the forehead.
"Wellit'sbeenfunnowbye!" And with that, Richie disappeared out the door with a rush of air and laughter just behind him. Mac sighed, eyeing the door and smiling, heading back upstairs to finish balancing the stupid checkbook and plot his revenge. His mood had lightened considerably, though - probably Richie's initial incentive. That crazy kid.
That kid. That kid was going to pay.
Mac smiled.
Yeah, he'd pay. Big time.