crimsoncrow

Centers on Mercenary Wench with a michievous smile. Sangria....on ye, lass?......Tis a gran' t'ought, fer true.....Rubs chin in contemplation. Me t'inks what ye really mean is sharin' the bottle....Chuckles. Thankee fer the Jameson, Red an' congrats to yer new Notorious rankin'! A fine t'in' indeed, me bully boy! Tries not to pay too much attention to the gold buttons. Pours a refill of Jameson, refocusing on the flight of chairs. Fine job on'na harp there Phil! Aye.....Tis notes that stir me soul, true as true is. Tis a pity that me fiddle be down at the Pub er I would be joinin' ye, lad. Mayhaps anot'er tyme.

Congrats, lass! A well deserved win, fer true!

Wanders in, nodding to all present and pauses to take in the chaos that has happened recently. Raising an eyebrow to the loose shot lying about, takes a quiet table by the taff rail. T'underin' Jayz, Will! Tosses hat on the tabletop. Me t'inks yer week be as hectic as me own. Shakes head with a heavy sigh. A bottle o' Jameson, if ye please. Mayhaps it will chase the deamons o' the week at post away......An' if it don', well then.....Me t'inks it will be numbin' the reality fer a wee bit. Chuckles.

Diego, me bully boy! Tis been a donkey's years since I heard that one an' I be knowin' it well! Here be one from the Auld Sod in honors o' Saint Patrick's: An Irishman said with a grouch, "Tis winter when ye sneeze an' ye slouch, Ye can't take yer woman, In'na boat er fer swimmin', But alot can be done on'na couch!

Aye, true as true is. As we like to say: T'irst is a shameless disease, so heres to a shameful cure! There be anot'er that makes me grin.... Some be sayin' the glass be half empty an' others say it be half full. An Irishman will tell ye to hold yer gob an' finish the dimn t'in'!

Well then, lad....If yer buyin', I'll be drinkin'! A jar o' Jameson to warm me ol' Irish heart an' the next one be mine to pay!

Well now, Cap'n Morgan....The trut' be known, Saint Patrick wasno' Irishman at all....As embarrased as I be to admitin' it. Check yer history an' be a good lad an' don' be rubbin' it in too much. Cringes at the thought.

Aye, yer a lad after me own heart, Red! I'll be one to partake in yer offerin's o' Boxty an' a wee o' Dublin Coddle, if ye will. A jar o' porter to wet me whistle to the side. I knew there be a reason I be frequentin' yer place. Pull up a chair an' make it a bottle o' porter, we'll raise a salute to good ol' Saint Paddy!

Sprays whiskey and starts coughing at the overhearing of "frog legs" as a menu request. Jayzu, Red!! You canno' be tellin' me yer abusein' Frenchies down in'na hold. Blinks in shock. Tell me it is no' so, lad.....Brow furrows. Tis a shame fer true......

Calls across the room to William. Careful there, boyo...I be in hopes that yer stamina be up to snuff. Chuckles. That wee package o' dynamite will be puttin' ye through yer paces like a prize pony on race day! Takes a swig from tankard and smiles at M.W. When ye start wearin' out, lad....tag me. winks.

Joins Mercenary Wench at the bar, making a bow of respect. Tis a fine t'in' to be layin' eyes on ye, lass! An'na fillin' o' me tankard be such a gran' idea an' I thankee. Yer lookin' well as e'er an' mahaps ye can con meself into a jig an' reel in'na wee. Raises an eyebrow in query. Yer next round o' liquid heart's desire be on me own coin, lass.

Strolls on deck and hears William's voice. Red! Tis a fine sight to me eyes ye are! Shepherd's Pie, ye say?! Put meself down fer a double servin' o' such delight an'na jar o' Jameson. Yer place be doin' well as I see it! Have yerself a seat an' catch me up, me boyo. Surveys the surround. I be in'na mood fer dinner an'na show....grins Bring on the Dancin' Gerls!

Aye yer Honor, true as true is......Jus'ly accused an' condemned. Not'in' like a hot summer day, a cold 'Rita an' a big ol' helpin' o' Barometer Soup!

Aye, lass...Flops down at the nearest table, ordering a round for self and M.W. A ballad be a fine idea an' Spinning Wheel, tis a good choice if there be one about that be knowin' it. I be too out o' breath te be pullin' it off. Have yerself a rest an' then ye can drag me ol' bones back to the decks.

Music rolls into Derry Hornpipe.... Whew....I be needin' a refillin' o' me tankard after this one, lass. Have no' carried on like this in a donkey's years. Fine gerl ye are to be blessed with merriment an' mirth in yer steps. Ye do me proud, fer true. Winks at M.W. with a warm smile.