[MacLeod nods brusquely, acknowledges the conditions. A BEAT. Then Willie's voice and eyes brighten, happy once again.]

WILLIE - Grand! Absolutely grand! You shall act as my Second.

[He claps MacLeod on the back and the two of them stride into position on the field. MacLeod picks up a box, opens it. Inside, two PISTOLS repose on red velvet. He offers the first choice of weapon to the challenged, Willie. Willie cheerfully selects his pistol. Smythe gravely takes the remaining one. The two combatants assume the position -- standing back to back, pistols at their sides.]

WILLIE - (CONT'D) We have the honor of the count.

MACLEOD - Very well. [to Smythe] I take it a reconciliation is out of the question?

SMYTHE - My honor has been besmirched. I shall have satisfaction.

[MacLeod looks to Willie. Willie shrugs as if to say, "what are ya gonna do?"]

MACLEOD - Then prepare yourselves, gentlemen.
 

 
[He stops at a rose bush, plucks a bug off a leaf.]

EDWARD - (CONT'D) Aphids. Just when you think you've gotten rid of them all.

[He notices MacLeod is still waiting for an answer.]
 

 
[Edward bends before another rose bush. He pulls off some dead leaves, his glove snags on a THORN.]

EDWARD - Intriguing, isn't it? That something so beautiful should have thorns. I often wonder why that is.
 

 
BUTLER - May I help you, sir?

WILLIE - On the contrary, I'm here to help you.

BUTLER - Begging your pardon?

[Willie indicates the logo on his uniform, beams proudly.]

WILLIE - We rush so you can flush. That's our motto.

[He pushes his way past the gaping Butler and into--]

[The Butler's about to protest when -- THWAP! He's struck on the head by the wrench. He falls in a heap. Willie drags him into a nearby closet. ON TOOL BOX as Willie opens it. Inside, among the wrenches and screwdrivers lies a SILENCED AUTOMATIC.]
 

 
MACLEOD - Not many men are strong enough to live with murder. [beat] Is he? Are you, Edward?