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Killian looked around shrewdly. No one was paying particular interest to them, and that was as good as if they were.

"I'll be fine leanin' against this, 'ere." He said, nervously. "But knockin' eff one-a their muscles isn't gonna fix it, ya know. Prolly provoke all out war, an' ya dun want that. Well, yet. But naht really, Fiona. Jus' a little... imperialism if you wanna call it that. I'm just trying to sell more booze te make up fer the lack o' gambling, but I'm afraid by lowering my prices I mighta got the whole Serra-whatta familia angry. Cuz before they didn't want the money so fast. I mighta stolen some business. But I'm no thief! Not when it comes te the Italians, I'm not. Those diabhals er too fussy."

He poured himself a tall glass of dark ale. It was a wonder he wasn't an alcoholic. Yet.

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