"Oh, hey Scott." she said when she saw him standing on her porch.

"Hey." he said. "Will you come for a drive with me?" he requested.

She looked at him strangely. "Umm... okay." she agreed. "Let me go grab my shoes really quick."

Scott followed her into the house and she closed the door behind him, then disappeared into the laundry room. He dug his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans, awaiting her return.

"Let's go." she said, coming back in a record thirty seconds with a pair of thong sandals on her feet.

Scott opened the front door and let himself out, Timber right behind him.

"So what's up?" she asked, rubbing her arms in the crisp night air. She was only wearing a tank-top and a pair of jeans.

"Let's just drive." he said, opening the passenger door for her to get in. He then ran around the vehicle and hopped into the drivers seat. He had had his license for a few months.

* * *

"Sorry I didn't call you sooner." Clint said as he and Kelly strolled across the park.

"It's alright." she said, licking her ice-cream cone.

They had caught a late movie and went out for ice cream and were currently strolling through the park under the moonlight.

"I was kind of under house arrest earlier today." Clint explained.

"What'd you do?" Kelly asked, shocked that her Prince Charming could do anything that would get him grounded.

"Actually it was Scott's fault. We all got grounded for staying out all night." he explained.

Kelly nodded. "Oh."

They walked in silence for a while, just enjoying their ice-cream.

"I wonder why Timber's parents didn't come home." Clint stated aloud.

"They work like, all the time." Kelly explained. "I've been friends with Tim for like three years and I've only seen them a few times actually. But they are soooo extremely nice."

"You've only seen them a few times? Wow. In three years." he said.

"Well... they work a lot." Kelly explained.

Clint nodded.

"They're doctors." she added. "So they're on call basically all the time. She has friends sleep over like, every night."

"They're gone all night?" Clint asked.

"No, they just come in late and leave early. Sometimes."

He nodded. "That sucks."

"It does." Kelly agreed, brushing her hair back from her face with her free hand.

More silence.

Kelly glanced at her watch. "I have to get home." she told him, tossing her empty cone in a nearby trash can. Clint did the same.

"Okay." he said, taking her hand. He house was just a few blocks down.

* * *

"This sucks." Bob complained flatly, laying down on the rec-room couch.

"It does." Dave agreed. "Scott took the girl of my dreams, and I'm stuck at home with your stupid ass. It couldn't get much worse."

"Why don't you go hook up with Jeanine again?" Bob suggested, picking up a previously discarded green baseball cap with the Roots logo on it. He placed it over his face.

"What did you just say?" Dave demanded.

"Timber told me all about your little experience with our good pal Jeanine yesterday in the laundry room." Bob said from under the cap. "Way to go Big D!" he laughed.

"She came onto me!" Dave defended.

"And far be it for you to push her away..." Bon said sarcastically. "I mean you are so in love with Angela, it would totally score you points with her to screw around with her best friend that has a thing for you."

"It wasn't my fault!" Dave insisted, sitting Indian style on the floor. "Jen's like a barracuda! She just goes in for the kill."

"And she gave you head too... it looks like you're on your way to being Scott." his brother joked.

"You know you've gotten head too Bob so shut up." Dave said. "You dated Maria for like three years, I know you guys fooled around on several occasions; in fact, I walked in on you guys fooling around on several occasions."

"True, but I never was as bad as Scott. He's goes through girls like he goes through underwear!"

"Don't say that Bob or else I'm really going to be pissed at him for going out with Angela." Dave warned. "And he'd better not dump her."

"It's funny how Scott was never like that before." Bob said, only slightly changing the subject. He took the hat off and sailed it across the basement. "I remember when he dated Maria's sister.

"Wasn't her name Angela too?" Dave asked.

"Yeah, it was actually." Bob nodded. "They went out for a few months, maybe a year."

"Then after that, he started playin'." Dave said with a laugh.

"I'm BORED!!!" Bob shouted, off subject.

"Me too." Dave agreed. "But anyway, if Scott hurts Angela, I will kick his fucking ass."

"Yeah, well..." Bob trailed off. "Scott insists that he's falling for her."

"Yeah, but he's know her a day! He can't be so sure after a day." Dave insisted.

"You've known her just as long Davey." Bob pointed out. "He's actually known her for like a few hours longer." he added, knowing it would annoy his brother to point out such a minor technicality. "And you're insisting that you're in love with her already."

"I am." Dave said stubbornly. "I know I am. It was love at first sight. I could tell the second I saw her."

"But that's just because you think she looks good." Bob said.

"No Bob... it goes much deeper than that. I just know okay." his younger brother said defensively.

"Okay Dave..." Bob trailed off. He rolled off the couch and headed towards the practice room.

Dave got up off the rug and followed.

"Girls are too much trouble, but you gotta love 'em." Bob stated, sitting down behind his drums and taking out his sticks. He started to drum out a beat.

"You're right." Dave agreed. "That's pretty good Bob." he complimented, sitting on his keyboard bench. He didn't feel like thinking about Angela anymore.

* * *

"Thanks for a great night." Kelly said, fishing for her keys in her handbag.

"Anytime." Clint said, digging the toe of his shoe into the cement nervously.

Kelly found her keys and looked at him for a moment. "Clint I don't kiss on the first date." she blurted out.

Clint looked up at her and grinned. "Neither do I." he admitted, though he would have anyway.

"Oh, okay." she said slowly.

"Well I gotta get home." he said, leaning in and giving her a hug. Despite the rule, he kissed her gently on the cheek.

"I'll call you tomorrow?" Kelly asked.

Clint nodded and started down the steps. "Goodnight Kelly, sweet dreams." he called.

"Same to you." she said, smiling at his back.

Clint embarked on his short walk home.

* * *

They had been riding in silence for a long time. Timber finally decided that the silence was killing her, so she decided to speak.

"So you asked Angela out." she stated.

Scott visibly winced.

"I thought you'd be happy." she said quietly, noting that it was a touchy subject.

Scott half shrugged.

"She sure seemed happy about it." Timber continued.

Scott didn't say anything for a moment. "I'm just not sure I can do it." he finally said.

"Do what?" Timber asked.

"This whole relationship thing." he said.

Scott pulled his father's Ford Expedition into a vacant lot at the edge of a hill that overlooked the entire city.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about." he said.

"Okay." Timber nodded.

Scott cut the engine and took the keys out of the ignition, twirling them on his index finger while thinking of the words to say.

Timber waited patiently.

He glanced up at her. "Wanna sit outside?" he asked.

"Sure." she said, opening her door and getting out.

Scott reached across and popped open the glove compartment, pulling an unopened bottle of Tequila out. He took it with him as he went out of the car the meet Timber.

She sighed when she saw the bottle. "Are you going to drink that whole thing Scott?" she asked not ready to hold back his hair when he vomited his guts out later.

"I was planning on sharing." he grinned, sitting up on the hood.

Timber shook her head and climbed up and sat beside him. "So spill it." she said as she watched him open the fresh bottle.

"Well... I just don't know if I'm cut out for this whole relationship thing." he said casually, taking a big swig before handing the bottle off to her.

Timber took a gulp then winced as it burned it's way down her throat. She handed the bottle back to him. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"I suddenly feel like I've backed myself into a corner... you know?" he asked. "I'm not really used to this whole relationship thing. I'm one to test the waters of every ocean, not just drink out of one." he said in metaphor.

"So you're afraid of commitment." Timber said.

It was funny how she could sum all of his unexplained emotions and feelings and confusion up in one simple sentence. He had never even bothered to think of that. Instead of replying, he just took another swig and handed the bottle to her.

"You are, aren't you." she stated.

"I guess so." he replied quietly.

"Say it then Scott. Admit it." she ordered, gulping down another mouthful of Tequila.

Scott lowered his head and accepted the bottle, taking another long drink.

"Oh, you have to be drunk enough to say it?" she joked.

He handed her the quickly emptying bottle. "No." he insisted defiantly. "I'm Scott Moffatt and I'm afraid... no, apprehensive, about commitment." he shouted out.

"Good boy." Timber said, taking a long drink as well. She was beginning to get used to the taste. "Now I'll give you some words of wisdom." she said. "Everyone can breath on their own." she started.

Scott took a swig of the warm liquid. "Okay..." he said.

"Well they can!" she insisted.

"Unless they're on a breathy thing at the hospital... what do they call those?"

"That's beside the point Scott." she said. "Normal people can breathe on their own." she continued. "But they can also hold their breaths." she took a drink. "So relationships to some people, most people, is like breathing. They're used to it, they're familiar with it, they can do it easily."

Scott nodded, trying to find her point.

"And to others, relationships are like holding your breath. To all those playas out there."

Scott cracked a smile. "Yeah."

"And so, they have the ability, they just can't do it for long." she went on. "If you don't hold your breath very often, you can't do it for as long as someone who has worked at it."

"Oh... I get it!" Scott laughed.

"Yup." she said. "So don't worry about it. You can do it. You just need to get used to it."

"I really like Angela too." Scott stated, downing more tequila as he spoke.

"Don't hog it all." Timber giggled, taking the bottle and swallowing three big mouthfuls. "I can do it." Scott said with dignity.

"You can do it Scott! Shout it from the rooftops!" Timber exclaimed, leaning back against the windshield.

"I can do it!!!" Scott shouted. "Though your little analogy barely made any fucking sense, I know I can do it." he laughed.

"Yes you can." she agreed, nursing the half empty bottle in her hands.

"I CAN DO IT!!!"

* * *

"Where they hell is Scott?" Bob asked, pacing back and forth in the living room.

"Beats the shit out of me." Dave replied, flipping through one of Sheila's girly magazines.

"Yeah, and that's what Dad's going to do when he finds out that his prodigal son is out yet again for the night!" Bob shouted irrationally. "And guess who's also going to get in trouble?" he asked, referring to himself and his brothers.

"Didn't he go to Timbers' at around nine thirty?" Dave asked, sitting up and throwing the magazine onto the coffee table.

"I called there, no one's home." Bob said.

"Jealous?" Clint asked.

"What?"

"Are you jealous that Scott's with your little girlfriend and you're not?" Clint asked.

"She's not my girlfriend! And Scott's with Angela now!" Bob hollered, tugging at his hair in frustration. "Timber and I are friends, damn, I barely know the girl."

"She's cool though Bob." Dave pointed out. "And you do too know her!" he exclaimed. "You're with her, like, twenty-four seven."

"We're just friends Dave." Bob assured him, trying to calm down.

"So you don't like her like that?" Clint teased.

"No!" Bob shouted.

"What's wrong with her? It's not like she's ugly or anything." Dave said defiantly.

"I didn't say she was." Bob said suddenly calm. "I just said that I don't like her like that. She's really sweet and funny and nice, and pretty, but I don't like her like that... where the hell is Scott! It's past midnight! Dad's going to freak! Where is he?!?!"

"That's what I'd like to know." Frank said, appearing in the doorway.

Bob's face went ashen, matching those of his triplet brothers.

"I gotta go to bed now." Clint lied, trying to get out of the room.

"Sit." Frank directed. "All of you."

"Oh man... here it comes..." Bob whined, putting his head in his hands.

"Where is he?" Frank demanded.

* * * "Hey look Scott!" Timber exclaimed, talking a mile a minute. She was laying on her back on the hood of the car with her feet stuck in the air. "I'm walking on the sky! And if it were daytime, I'd be walking on sunshine... just like that song. That song is so dumb though... I really don't like it."

Scott groaned, letting the bottle drop from his hands. "I can't believe we drank the whole thing."

Timber rolled over on her stomach. "Oh God, I must be drunk because the world wouldn't normally wobble like this unless I were." she moaned, suddenly feeling the tequila taking it's toll.

"What time is it?" Scott asked, his voice slurred. "I have to gets home before the clock turned midnight."

Timber held her watch up to her face. She squinted trying to focus. "It's... it's... damn this quadruple vision!" she exclaimed then broke out into a fit of laughter.

"Let's go home." Scot said sitting up on the hood of the car.

"You can't drive!" Timber scolded, trying to put her hand on his shoulder but missing by a long shot. "You're so wasted! You're going to crash." she laughed.

"Yeah." Scott agreed. He took the keys out of his pocket and stuck them out in front of him trying to find the ignition.

"Why aren't we moving?" Timber finally asked.

Scott looked around him then started laughing. "We're not in the damn car!" he exclaimed, dropping the keys to the ground.

"Well fuck that." Timber laughed. "It looks like yet another good idea from Scott Moffatt has turned out to royally suck ass." she slurred, resting her head back on the windshield.

"What's that opposed to mean?" Scott asked, laying down next to her. He wrapped his arm around her waist.

"Bed time." Timber said firmly.

Scott scooted closer and rested his head on her chest.

Timber pushed him roughly. "You're hurting my boob." she informed him.

"Sorry." Scott said. "I need a pillow."

"Well do I look like a fuckin' pillow to your stupid ass?" she giggled.

"No." he said. "You're too damn skinny."

"You're too damned... Scottish." she told him.

Scott draped his arm across her waist as she rolled over on her side to face him. "I'm Canadian." he corrected her.

"I don't mean Scottish the nationality, I mean Scottish as in you retard."

"Well I might actually be Scottish the nationality." he rambled on. "I dunno. What nationality are you?" he asked.

"My parents are Nigerian... hence the accents." she informed him as if it were common knowledge.

"Oh." he replied. "Well I'm Canadian." he said again.

"Were you a big headed child?" she asked.

Scott giggled. "I wish we had some more tequila." he stated. "I'm not drunk enough yet." "Yeah ya are..." she said in a husky voice. "If I'm drunk, you're drunk."

"Let's go joy riding." he suggested.

"You are what we call alcohol inhibited Scotty."

"I am not!" he exclaimed. "I can drive better than your stupid butt can!"

Timber got up slowly and hopped off the car, her knees giving in and she collapsed to the ground laughing. "Where are the keeeeeeeeeys?" she slurred, suddenly more drunk than when she was lying down.

"In my ass." Scott told her, staring up at the stars.

"Good place for them." Timber giggled. "It's big enough!"

"Like hell it is!" he exclaimed.

"It is." she said firmly.

Scott lay back again, gazing at the sky.

"Found the keys!" Timber exclaimed, picking them up as she struggled to get to her feet.

"Good." Scott said.

Timber threw them at him.

"OW! What the fuck wasssup wit that?" he exclaimed.

"You're getting quiet." she scolded.

"Soooooooo-ry!" he exclaimed.

"You'd better be." she said, climbing back onto the hood.

"Twenty-twenty-twenty-four hours a day!" he suddenly started to sing.

"I wanna be sedated!" Timber joined in.

The two of them broke into song, making up lyrics when they didn't know the correct ones, and pretty soon the were gamboling around the vacant lot belting out versus at the top of their lungs.

* * *

Frank angrily paced back and forth in the living room. Clint sat on the couch, still in his pressed khakis and red golf-type shirt that he had worn on his date with Kelly. Bob was stretched out with his head rested in his twin's lap, and Dave was asleep on the recliner.

"I told him to be in this house by midnight and it is... what time is it Bob?"

"Two thirty-five." Bob murmured, starting to doze off, but being snapped out of it by his father's booming voice.

Clint sat, so tired he was numb. He ran his hands absently through Bob's long hair, twisting pieces in his fingers.

"That boy has broken the rules too many times in less than forty-eight hours. He comes home this morn--- yesterday morning with a hangover the size of metropolitan New York..."

Bob and Clint looked up at their father in alarm, wondering how he knew. Frank raised his hand to silence them. "I see all, I know all." he informed them. "And I know what a hangover looks like." he added.

Bob lay back down on Clint's lap and Clint started to play with his hair again.

"This time he has gone too far." Frank continued. "This time he won't get by with just a slap on the wrist..."

"Kick his ass Dad." Bob urged.

Clint gave his hair a warning tug.

"When can we go to bed?" Dave whined.

Everyone looked at him. They had all thought he was asleep.

"When Scott gets in this house." Frank said, sitting down on the love seat.

The triplets groaned in unison.

Hours later, Frank was asleep on the love seat, Dave on the recliner, Bob on the couch with his head in Clint's lap, and Clint with his head rested back against the back of the couch. Scott was still nowhere to be found.

* * *

A light moan escaped Timber's throat as she rolled over onto her back. She never slept on her stomach but it had proved to be comfortable the night before. Sunlight teased her, slipping underneath her eyelashes and into her eyes. She shook her head slightly, trying to grasp consciousness, then sat up abruptly, not realizing her mistake until she felt a head rush.

"Ugh... damnit." she cursed, clutching her head. She opened her eyes to see that she was sitting in the middle of the vacant lot. She had slept out on the cement the entire night.

Scott lay a few feet away from her, sprawled out on his back and snoring lightly.

She checked her watch. It was a little past seven thirty in the morning. "Ugh. Get up Scott!" she said, kicking him in the leg.

Scott moaned a few incoherent things before he opened his eyes, quickly closing them. "Somebody turn off the sun!" he whined, covering his face with his hands.

"Get up!" Timber cried. "We have to get home."

Scott slowly eased himself up into a sitting position. "What time is it?" he asked.

"Around seven-thirty." she told him.

"Damn..." he moaned. "Shit, hangover always seems to get the best of me." he complained.

"Well when you get wasted two fucking nights in a row!" she teased, retrieving her shoe from where it was wedged in the hub-cap of the sport utility vehicle. "Want me to drive?" she asked.

"You're thirteen Timber. You're still a year and a half off from driver's training." he reminded her.

"So! I still drive." she assured him.

Against his better judgement, and only because he was feeling like shit and knew he probably couldn't drive either, he tossed her the keys.

Timber caught them and ran to get in the driver's seat. "You're my new best friend Scotty!" she beamed.

"If you crash my dad's car, it's your ass." he warned climbing into the passenger's side and resting his head back. He felt as if he was going to die. Had anyone ever died of a hangover?

* * *

Frank stirred awake when he heard the side door in the kitchen open. He looked up to see a completely hung over Scott waltz in and make his way through the living room to the stairs.

"Where they hell were you!?!?!" Frank boomed, instantly waking the triplets.

Clint pushed Bob's head off him; his legs were numb.

"Out." Scott replied, still headed for the steps.

"Don't you dare walk out of me when I'm talking to you!" Frank bellowed.

Scott stopped and turned to face his father, standing in the doorway of the living room.

"Look at you!" Frank cried, getting to his feet. "You are completely out of it!" he exclaimed. "You were drinking last night, I can smell the alcohol on you!"

"Quit yelling dad!" Scott cried, clutching his head with his hands.

"Don't you dare tell me what to do! I waited up half the night for you to get yourself in this house and you never came home Scott! Not only did you break your promise to be in by midnight, but we were worried sick about you! We thought you had died, or gotten in a car wreck!" he continued to rant.

"Who's we?" Scott asked in confusion.

Frank gestured to the triplets.

"What's going on in here?" Sheila asked, coming down the stairs in her pale purple bathrobe.

Dave, Clint, and Bob tried to leave the room as quiet as possible, sneaking away into the kitchen.

"Damn, Scott is going to get it." Clint said, sitting down at the kitchen table.

"He deserves it." Bob said flatly, running his fingers through his tangled hair.

Dave got some orange juice out of the refrigerator and poured him and his brothers glasses.

"God, the guy never learns. He just got drunk two nights in a row." Clint continued.

"Well that's Scott for you." Bob muttered, resting his head on the table.

"I wonder if Timber was with him." Dave stated.

Clint winced as he heard his fathers voice booming from the next room.

The next thing they all heard was Scott stomping up the stairs and slamming his bedroom door.

* * *

"I don't believe this! He's acting like I'm fucking two years old!" Scott ranted, pacing back and forth in his bedroom.

Bob was curled up on his brother's bed fast asleep. Clint was sitting at the end of the bed watching his older brother pace back and forth, and Dave was nowhere to be found.

"No one grounds Scott Moffatt and gets away with it." Scott continued.

"What are you going to do? Change your name to Scott Menendez and kill Dad?" Clint asked.

Bob laughed.

"I thought you were asleep." Clint pointed out.

"Well it's hard to sleep with Scott making so much damned noise." Bob said loudly.

"I have to get out of here!" Scott shouted. "I'm going to go crazy in this stupid house!"

"You've only been in this house for about half an hour Scott, I think you'll live." Clint said with a smug smirk. "Why don't you try to sleep off that hangover of yours instead of popping Advil every ten minutes because you look like shit." he added.

Scott grasped his head in his hands, tugging on pieces of his hair.

"You're only going to go bald that way." Clint said flatly.

"Just get the hell out of here if your going to be a little ingrate." Scott snapped.

"And what pray-tell should I be grateful for? You're the ingrate! You should be thankful Dad even gives a shit about you! You should be thanking us because we waited up for your stupid ass all last night instead of going to sleep." Clint said.

"He's right." Bob agreed.

Scott huffed out a sigh. "Just get the hell out of here!" he shouted.

Clint shrugged and got up from the bed. "Come on Bob." he said.

Bob reluctantly rolled off the bed and followed his older triplet out of the room. Scott followed them to the door and slammed it shut as hard as he could. He had to get out of that house. He had to see Angela.

* * *

"Don't you think you're being a bit to hard on him honey?" Sheila asked softly.

"A bit hard on him?" Frank demanded. "I make rules and Scott pays no attention to them. And this isn't just a recent development too, he's always been the rebellious one."

"Frank!" Sheila snapped, trying to get his attention. "You made it sound like you hate the poor kid." she informed him.

"Scott knows I love him very much." Frank assured his wife. "He just needs someone to be firm with him right now because he thinks he can break all of the rules around here. He needs an authority figure in his life.

"You didn't need to ground him until we leave Frank, that's a bit drastic."

"Sheila, I don't want him going out and staying out until all hours of the night drinking. This is the second night in a row that he has gotten drunk and come home with a hangover in the morning. And the thing is that Scott is a very bright boy, he knows that drinking is bad, but he does it anyway. I won't sit back and watch my son become and alcoholic. I'm going to nip this in the butt before it becomes serious."

"Kids do things like this." Sheila said. "Remember when you were his age? Don't tell me you never got drunk with your buddies."

"I'm not saying that." Frank said softly. "But I always wanted better for my kids. And I did it once in a while. This has been two nights in a row Sheila, I can't let him keep going down this road of destruction."

"Then you need to talk to him honey, not put him under house arrest and leave it at that." she pointed out.

Frank sighed, digesting her words. He got up from the kitchen table. "You're right." he finally said.

She nodded.

Frank started towards the steps.

* * *

"Scott..." Frank called softly, knocking lightly on the door.

There was no reply. He figured his son was giving him the silent treatment, so he entered.

"The effects of the day finally set in." Frank stated, seeing his eldest son lying on his side on his bed asleep. He walked in and sat down on the bed next to him. "Scott, Scott, Scott. What am I going to do with you." he asked, rubbing his son's shoulder in a circular motion. "You screwed up kiddo. You screwed up. I could lecture you on how bad drinking is and all that, but I won't. You're a smart kid. You know it's wrong. I admit, I used to be in your same position, drinking with my buddies, getting drunk out of my mind, but somehow, by the time I got kids, I didn't think they'd be following in my footsteps." he paused, studying the weary face of the boy who slept soundly beside him. "I don't mean to be so hard on you Scott, because despite what you may think, I love you very, very much. I would sell my soul to the devil to make sure you were taken care of, you know that. But I don't want to see you make mistakes, and when I do, I try my best to correct them. Grounding you is my way of correcting them son." he eyed Scott affectionately. "I'm trying the best I can and not to sound cliche, but, I'm sure you'll understand when you're older. When you're a father, you'll understand what it's like for me and how much I feel the need to take care of you. I love you Scott, don't you ever forget that."

"I love you too Dad." Scott said without opening your eyes.

"I should have known." Frank said with a chuckle.

"Does this mean I'm not grounded?" Scott asked hopefully, cracking one eye open.

"Ha ha, nice try." Frank said, patting him on the arm.

"Damn." Scott said with a smile.

"Sleep does the body good Scott." Frank added. "Why don't you try to get some." He got up from the bed and headed for the door.

"Come on Dad please!" Scott begged, sitting up.

"Please what?" Frank asked.

"Un-ground me Dad! There's this girl I have to be seeing to... you know how it is..."

Frank gave his son a sideways look.

"I love you." Scott said with a cheesy grin.

"One month." Frank said, not letting up.

"Two weeks." Scott haggled.

"One month." Frank said.

"One week."

"Month."

"Week."

"Month."

"Month."

"Wee--- haha, nice try buddy."

"Please!!!" Scott begged.

"You've been a real pain in the ass lately Scott..." Frank trailed off.

"Please!!!" Scott begged.

"The rest of your life if you keep wining like that!" his father threatened.

Scott pouted like he used to when he was five years old.

"One week, and that's only on good behavior. If you stay out all night again, I'll ground you until the new millennium." Frank bargained.

"That's only a few months away..." Scott pointed out thoughtfully.

"Don't push it." Frank warned.

"Thanks Dad." Scott said with a smirk.

"Yeah, you'd better just not make me regret my decision." Frank muttered jokingly as he closed the door softly behind him.

"I won't." Scott said to no one in particular.

* * *

return***six