It is an average afternoon in Paris; in the small kitchen of the antique store Tessa is busily cooking what appears to be a feast, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows and her nose in a cookbook covered with a light dusting of flour. She is mashing potatoes in a large bowl with an electric mixer when Duncan walks in. His eyebrows rise at the sight of the banquet Tessa has obviously spent most of the day concocting.
T: Oh, hello Duncan.
D: What are you doing?
T: What does it look like Iím doing? Iím cooking dinner.
D: I can see that. ButÖ why? All this food, I mean. Are you expecting company?
T: No! I just thought it would be nice to have a well-cooked meal for once. Donít you think so?
She bats her eyes at him and basically acts really icky. Duncan turns slightly red before answering.
D: Well, yes. Of course.
T (nods decisively): Good. Now come over here and help me mash these potatoes while I check on the yam.
Duncanís eyebrows rise again but he says nothing as he comes around the counter to take the mixer and bowl from Tessa. As she goes over to the oven to pull out the dish inside, Richie comes in. He is wearing his favorite blue shirt, ripped army pants and that green and back jacket, along with a rather loud black, neon pink, and yellow bandana tied around his head.
R: Hey guys, whatís up?
He sees the dish Tessa has just pulled from the oven and gives it a look, as though he were examining an earthworm under a microscope.
R: UmÖWhat is that?
T (proudly presenting the platter): Itís a parmesan yam puff!
R: Are we eating that? For dinner?
T: Of course!
Richie gives it another look as Tessa turns around to place the steaming yam on the stovetop. Duncan catches the look and gives him a look back. Tessa then turns to a pot simmering on the stove.
T: Richie, would you please come here and stir this broccoli mustard gravy?
R: Broccoli mustard gravy? Is that for that parmesan yam thing?
T: No, of course not!
Richie sighs nearly inaudibly.
T: Itís for the sweet potato roasted pork.
Richie looks almost sick for a moment, but then his expression suddenly brightens.
R: Look, Tessa, Iím really sorry, but I just remembered that I was going to meetÖ. one of my friends for dinner at McDonaldís. Yeah, so Iím really sorry, but I canít stay. (He glances at his watch.) Iíve got to get going, actually.
Duncan gives him a look, and Tessa immediately steps in the way of the rapidly departing Mr. Ryan.
T: Oh no, youíre not. I didnít spend the whole afternoon slaving away in the kitchen so you could eat at McDonaldís. Youíre going to call your friend and tell them you canít make it. And take off that horrible shirt! How long has it been since you last washed that thing? Itís all ratty and oldÖ itís going to have to go!
R: No way! I love this shirt! Itís not ratty, and itís just fine, thank you.
T: No, itís old and dirty and it has to go. Come on, take it off and throw it away! Put on something nice for a change. And take off that silly bandana!
R: I like my bandana!
T: Well, it looks silly.
She walks over and grabs the bandana before Richie can say anything, and refuses to give it back.
R: Hey! Tessa, come on! Give it back!
D: Now, TessaÖ
T: No! It looks silly! If heís going to live in this house, he should at least make the effort to look nice. No more wild bandanas, no more ratty shirts Ė
T: - No more ripped pants. You look like you canít afford a decent outfit! You are not out on the street anymore, young man. You should not look like you are.
R: But Tessa -!
T: No buts. Now go get changed. You should be ready just in time for dinner. Now go! Shoo!
Richie stomps angrily out of the room, muttering nasty things under his breath. Duncan looks on, slightly amused but still feeling a bit sorry for Richie. He doesnít argue with Tessa however. She sighs and deposits the liberated bandana on the counter to be disposed of later and comes over to inspect Duncanís work.
T: Oh, give me that! (She snatches the bowl out of his hands disdainfully.) Didnít anyone ever teach you how to mash potatoes? Youíd think after four hundred years, the great Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod would at the very least know how to mash potatoesÖ