What happened, MacKay? Did you get a run in your fancy knee socks?"

"They're called hose," Angus grumbled.

Gregori snorted. "Oh, that's manly. Wait, I know what happened. You put your kilt on backwards and when you sat down, ouch! Your little sword-shaped kilt pin poked you in the ass."

Angus arched an eyebrow at Gregori, then glanced at Connor. "How can it be that ye havena killed this one?"

Gregori blinked. "Excuse me?"

Roman chuckled as he fumbled in a desk drawer. "Play nice while I'm gone."

"Ye're leaving?" Angus asked.

"I'm going to Shanna's doctor appointment with her." He set a bottle of reddish-amber liquid onto the desk. It boasted a shiny gold label that said Blissky. "This is for you, Angus. We start selling it next week."

"Och, good." Angus stood and picked up the bottle. He'd been waiting for Roman to finish his latest Fusion Cuisine drink. "I've sorely missed the taste of good Scotch whisky."

"Enjoy." Roman headed for the door. "I'll be back in an hour or so. Gregori will let me know what you decided."

Angus dragged his eyes away from the bottle of Blissky. Why was Roman's mortal wife oing to the doctor at night? "Is there a problem with the bairn?"

"No. Everything's fine." Roman avoided looking at Angus.

Bugger. There was a problem. The monk had always been a lousy liar.

"Boy, you should see Shanna. I swear she's huge." Gregori spread his arms wide enough to indicate a hippopotamus.

Roman cleared his throat.

Gregori winced. "But she's still as lovely as ever."

Roman smiled faintly. "I'll talk to you later, Gregori. And thank you, Angus, for helping us find this slayer."

Angus smiled back. "Ye know me, I'm always ready for a good hunt." When Roman shut the door, he turned to Connor and Gregori. "All right, you two. What's wrong with the bairn?"

"Nothing." Connor slanted Gregori a warning look.