Sam happily wandered up to the door of the loft. He had a job opportunity, a thirst for a beer, and maxed out tabs at his favorite bars. That meant it was time to pay Mikey a visit. His fist rose only to be suspended in midair. The knock was put on hold as he heard voices inside.

"Like that?" Michael asked.

"Yes… perfect…" Fiona purred in a voice that made Sam cringe. Surely they weren't…

"Harder," she demanded.

"Oh jeeze," Sam muttered.

"Can you handle it? I don't want you falling down," Michael responded.

"Of course I can handle it, Michael. Don't you remember last night?"

Sam heard something crash. It was like a train wreck. He wanted to leave, but he couldn't. Maybe they were almost finished…

"How was that?" Michael inquired.

"Great, Michael. Put your hand here and hold tight. It's going to get hot. Can you handle it?"

"Yes, I can, Fi. I didn't mean for you to take it—"

A torch started up and Sam winced upon hearing Michael's scream.

"You said you could take it," Fiona teased.

"I'm fine. You've done worse."

"I have. Now take this and put it here."

"You can use this for that?"

"You're over forty and you don't know about using this?"

"I speak five languages and can make satellites out of Pringles cans—"

"Well, that doesn't help this now does it? Stop your talking and put it in."

"Oh Michael, I'm impressed. You have done this before."

"Not with that."

"There's a first time for everything."

The torch started up again, then a clatter and a gunshot. Sam knew there was a reason he'd stayed around. He threw the door open, gun out, ready to defend. Michael and Fiona stood by the workbench holding a large, homemade rifle. A cheap target hung at the other end of the loft with a hole in the center. Sam looked between them, the weapon, and the target in awe.

"Jesus, Mike! What were you doing in here?"

"Fi was teaching me how to build a rifle out of everyday items," he explained.

She held it proudly, caressing the barrel. "It's an old Glenanne family recipe."

"Some families make cookies, Fi's make weapons…" Michael sighed.

"Oh. I thought…" Sam laughed it off and went to the fridge, stealing a beer.

Fi passed Mike the gun and folded her arms. "You thought what, Sam?"

"That you two were…you know…making with the hanky-panky…" she made a noise and he quickly stopped her, "…but you aren't. So, we can talk about the job I was just offered."

He had hardly sat down when Fiona said, "We weren't having sex, Sam, but we're planning to."

Sam and Michael sputtered for a moment. She stopped Michael with a kiss and Sam scurried to the door, shielding his eyes with one hand and carrying the beer with the other.

"I'll just take this to go and talk to you kids later. Don't do anything I thought you did earlier…mostly the torch thing…" he shuddered and slammed the door, darting to his car to escape before he really did hear their…activities…