Word Count: 126
Johnny relaxed back on the sofa, a glass of the ‘Ol’ Man’s’ scotch in his hand. He was as relaxed as he had ever been in his life. He was ‘home’ at last at Lancer. A blazing fire in the fireplace to rival the raging wind and snow outside, he surveyed the room, reminiscing that once in his miserable childhood that he had only wanted the love of a father. Now, he had that. In fact, he had doubled it, as he had the love of both of his fathers now, and they were sitting across from each other with a chessboard between them, along with their own glasses of scotch. “Check ya there, Murdoch,” Val Crawford remarked quietly.