Author's Note: Okay, the plot to this is probably going to seem pretty familiar. I was reading 'A Future Life' by HRH The Feline Queen, and I thought it could've been done slightly differently. I don't mean any offence; I'm just having fun with it. Oh and um, I don't have permission to copy the storyline, so if Feline Queen wants it taken down just let me know.

"Dad's going to go spare."

Sybil Vimes nodded slowly. "I think that's a definite possibility, yes."

"Mum, you're not helping!" Marissa exclaimed. "You're supposed to be all supportive and tell me it won't be that bad and stuff."

"Well, I don't think I should lie to you, dear--"

"This is so unfair!" Marissa threw herself down into a chair and began to pout. "I'm sixteen years old! I should be allowed to date who I want."

"And you can, dear. Within reason."

"How can you say that? You won't let me date Robby Rust anymore and Dad threatened to shoot Patrick Selachii if he even set foot on the grounds."

"I did say within reason, Marissa." Sybil took one look at her daughter's expression and sighed. "You know full well that Robert Rust has been arrested three times in the past two weeks for being Drunk, Disorderly and Bloody Annoying."

"But what about Patrick? He hasn't been arrested for anything."

"No, dear, but he practically lives at Mrs Palm's these days and you know how your father feels about that sort of thing."

"He so old-fashioned; everyone goes to see the Seamstresses these days."

"That's not true, dear," said Sybil. "Carrot doesn't."

"Carrot's weird."

"Your brother doesn't either."

"Sam's a freak of nature."

"Don't be mean about your brother, Marissa," said Sybil with a smile. "Does he visit the Seamstresses?"

Marissa gave her a wary look. "No, of course not."

"And would you be happy if he did?"

"No, but—okay, I get it, Patrick's no good. But seriously, Mum, there's nothing wrong with visiting or being a seamstress anymore. Everyone does it!"

"And if everyone else jumped off a cliff would you do that too?" asked Sybil.

"It depends how in it was at the time."

"You have no idea how much I hope you're joking, Marissa."

"…Then you turn into Clay Lane and proceed into the Pits, follow the street into—Dad, do I really have to do this? I have to do the bloody patrols every bloody day as it is," grumbled Sam as they left the Watch-house.

Vimes took his cigar from his mouth and smiled. "And you'll continue to do them until you can tell me them correctly."

"But why?"

"Because policing, real policing, isn't about glad-handing officials and screaming at Vetinari to get a bigger budget, Sam. It's about knowing the streets like the back of your hand and being able to take one look at them and knowing what's going on. You've got to develop policeman's eyes, lad."

"Sounds painful."

Vimes swatted his son on the back of the head lightly. "Don't be cheeky. You know, a lot of lance-constables would jump at the chance for a bit of extra teaching from their commander."

"That's rubbish and you know it, Dad," said Sam. "All the others run away from you when you come into the Yard. You scare them."

"Shows I'm doing something right then."

"Whatever."

Vimes shot a sideways glance at Sam and sighed. "Okay; what's wrong?"

"What?"

"I was going to leave it up to your Mum to ask you, but I'm getting the feeling a bit of fatherly advice would be better. So what is it?"

"It's nothing," said Sam grumpily.

"Sam, you've been a grumpy sod all week. I know something's wrong. Now what is it?" asked Vimes. "You know I'm not going to stop asking until you tell me."

Sam squirmed uncomfortably. "It's about Emma, Dad."

"Carrot and Angua's daughter? What about her?"

"Well, I think she's really pretty, Dad. And she's funny and smart and…" Sam trailed off and sighed. "But she thinks I'm a pillock."

"What makes you say that?"

"I think it was the bit where she came up to me last week and said 'Sam, you're a pillock'. I've got no chance."

"That depends; was she smiling when she called you that?"

"Yeah, she was grinning. Why?"

Vimes smiled. "One of the things you should remember about women, Sam, is that if they smile when they call you something like that, then they think it's an endearing character trait or something."

"Oh."

"Tell you what; I'll ask Carrot to put you and her on patrol together for the next week or so. You can find out for sure then."

"Thanks Dad," said Sam happily, already imagining himself saving Emma from some desperate criminal.

"Good." They finally reached the door of the Ramkin-Vimes mansion and stepped inside. "Sybil? Marissa? We're home!" yelled Vimes.

Marissa ran out into the hallway to greet them. "Daddy!"

Instantly Vimes froze. "Oh gods, what've you done now?"

"What do you mean?" asked Marissa innocently.

"Every time you call me daddy, it means you're up to something, Marissa. Or you've done something you know I'm going to find out about."

"She's probably run up a bunch of parking fines again," muttered Sam. "I saw the file Nobby and Visit have on her; it's an inch thick."

"No, it's nothing like that," Marissa said, glaring at him. "I've just invited one of my friends here to meet you, that's all."

"A male friend?" asked Vimes suspiciously. He walked into the sitting room, his children trailing after him. "Marissa, if you've invited that Rust boy here again…"

"It's not him, dear," said Sybil. "I've already checked."

Vimes sat down beside her on the sofa. "Who is it then?"

"It's probably best if you find out when he arrives," said Sybil.

"So you know who it is?" asked Vimes.

"Yes, but I promised I wouldn't tell, dear."

"It's Nobby, isn't it?" grinned Sam. "He's your type, isn't he, sis?"

Marissa threw a cushion at his head. "Shut up."

"Sam, don't tease your sister. Marissa, don't throw things at your brother," said Sybil absently. She smiled at Vimes' worried expression and patted his hand reassuringly.

They all looked up as someone knocked on the door.

"That's him!" cried out Marissa. She leapt up to go and answer it but Vimes grabbed her arm as she walked past.

"Let Willikins get it," he said evenly. "You know he'll sulk if you get it for him." Marissa nodded hesitantly and sat back down.

A few seconds later Willikins appeared at the doorway. "Lord Vetinari is here to see you, your grace."

"Oh." Vimes nodded as the Patrician entered the room. "Is something wrong, sir?"

"Good evening to you all," said Vetinari pleasantly. "Why would something be wrong, Vimes?"

"It's just that you've never visited me at home before, sir, unless something was happening."

"Oh, well everything's fine," said Vetinari, waving a hand dismissively. "Why are you all gathered in here like this?"

"We're waiting for Marissa's new boyfriend to turn up," said Sam. "Sir."

"Ah, I thought so." Vetinari walked over to the girl and kissed her hand before sitting down next to her. "Marissa."

She smiled back. "Havelock."

Vimes stared at them. "Sybil, get my crossbow."

"Sam, calm down," said Sybil hurriedly.

"Calm down? How can you ask me to calm down?!"

"Well, it could be worse, dear."

"How?"

"Excuse us a moment, please." Sybil gave everyone an apologetic smile and grabbed her husband's hand, dragging him out of the room.

Sam eyed at the happy couple warily. "So…um…so how long have you been going out?"