"There." Michael Scott glared at Gerrick through harsh, critical eyes, narrow like a carrion bird. His voice, a harsh staccato not unlike that same bird, emanated from a bitter scowl that always made Gerrick wonder if he had been nursed on pickled cucumbers as a baby. The mage put the lid on his jar of salve and tightened down the bandage with one last cinch.

"Will I be able tae fight?"

"Aye, in a few hours," Michael rose, stowing the salve in a nearby cabinet. "I advise you to set your sights a little lower than porcelain vases. They do bite back. Perhaps something more your speed, like down pillows? I hear they're quite soft."

Gerrick rolled his eyes.

"Oh, the young master is offended. Perhaps you have a different version of the tale? Tell me, did the vase insult your linneage, or were you just practicing for the day Malcolm inevitably becomes fed up with your tomfuckery and breaks your fingers?"

Gerrick glared at him. "Ye have sommat tae say tae me?"

Michael began to absently leaf through a book on his desk. "If I have anything to say to you, you'll hear it through your mother." He looked up. "But this once I'll indulge you. In what world do you imagine Hamish MacBoon would have been fool enough to smash a vase with his fists?"

Gerrick looked away. "Ye're the second person tae question what world I think I live in."

"Well perhaps you should take that as a sign!" Michael rose, glaring angrily. Gerrick flinched back in surprise, wondering what prompted the sudden shift in tone--Michael looked genuinely livid with Gerrick.

"It's all fun and games to you, isn't it?" The mage went on. "Go around stealing whatever you want, no one will do anything because you're family, or you're the Laird's son. Go around making enemies because you can, oh but don't worry, dear old pa will sort it out for me. You think you understand reality because you've been on a few easy family raids and that entitles you to behave like a little hellion the rest of the time!"

Gerrick stood up. "De ye think I dinnae know what me father was like when he was my age?!"

"There is method to your father you could not dream of understanding, and you haven't taken the slightest interest in how he comports himself!"

"I'm never gonnae be Laird of Inverray!"

"Good!" Michael turned back to his book. "I can't imagine what this family would be like under your guardianship. Perhaps you think the Marsaukans would be cowed by the theft of their underwear."

Gerrick's insides churned with hot rage. He looked away, clenching his fists.

"Oh, wait." Michael held up a hand, and stood up. He went to a nearby cubboard and pulled out a teapot, setting it on the work-bench in front of Gerrick. "There. Go ahead, I have many more." He returned to his seat.

Gerrick's vision went blurry with fury. He seized the teapot, and raised to throw it.

But the shame of Michael's words caught up to him. His arm went weak.

He set the teapot down on the bench, weeping silently. He retreated in defeat, slamming Michael's door behind him.

Gerrick leaned back against the door, rubbing his face with his hands. Ansley put a hand on his shoulder. "Gerrick? Wha' happened?"

He looked at her, angrily at first, but then softened, closing his eyes. He shook his head. "Nothin' I wannae talk aboot."

"Gerrick, he's just as scared as everyone else. It's serious. Whatever's comin' it's got 'em all rattled."

Gerrick felt his face flush red with anger. "That makes it even worse."

"Ye alright?"

His mind hardened. "I'll be able tae fight, that's th' important thing."

Ansley shook her head. "Nae it innae, lover."

Gerrick shook his head. "Ansley...what if I'm wrong? What if we cannae do this?"

Ansley looked at him, sternly. "Gerrick, we love ye, an' we believe in ye."

"That's nae what I asked."

"Ye know what happens if we fail." She looked at him grimly.

Gerrick closed his eyes.

She pressed her face to his shoulder. "Gerrick, I ken ye're scared. We all are. An' I ken that this is what ye're like when ye're scared. Ye lash oot. Ye get mad, an' ye wanna smash what made ye scared."

Gerrick sniffed. "I wish I could go tae me father an' ask his advice."

"I'll tell ye what he'd say, Gerrick." She looked up at him. "He'd say dinnae do this tae prove yerself. Do it because ye believe it's the right thing tae do, and dinnae go in wi' illusions aboot what's gonnae happen."

Gerrick scowled. "That's what he told me the day we foond Jonas."

She smiled. "I know. I was there."

Gerrick smiled at her. "I love ye, Ansley."

Ansley blushed. "I love ye, too, Gerrick."

Gerrick sighed, then nodded. "We'll play it safe. Scootin' mission only. We willnae engage." He looked at Ansley seriously. "I willnae risk anyone I love."

Ansley smiled, a little bit surprised. "Play it safe? Who are ye, and wha' hae ye done wi' ma boy?"

Gerrick chuckled a little, but then shook his head sadly. "Maybe Giacomo was right. An' maybe it's time I took a leaf oot a' me da's rutters."

Gerrick walked away. It was time to ask the gods for help.