Padraig, however, had kept his promise. His farm was removed enough to keep other people safe, and to keep him from fucking up. He knew George would find a way to imprison him if he hurt someone, so he kept himself apart from civilization except for his trips into the nearest town to buy food. And occasionally to sleep with women.
He was in his kitchen, boiling a pot of water on his stove. His farm was a but rustic, but he liked it that way. While the water heated, he was reading though he looked up when he felt a familiar immortal presence.
Oh god. George was here to take him prisoner after all.
Padraig jumped up and he grabbed a knife before backing up into a corner so he could protect himself.