-The Drunken Junker Pub-

[TFinnegan]

Finnegan is nearly speechless, well, as much so as a Scottsman can be.

"Caw, Doc, now 'ats some fine treat, an' sure!" He rests a calloused hand on Holliday's shoulder. "Aye I'd pay a king's ransom for a steady supply o' tha' spirit! Hell, Oi'll trade ye fer a few kegs o' Invergordon Black, as ye likes it so well."

He nods to Tess. "Lass, see tha' th' good Doc 'ere dinnae take offt wifout at least a keg o' the Black, aye?"
The flame-haired Concierge nods and punches a note into her ever-present datapad. "Done, Congressman." she answers with a wink. "I've even had a kilo of smoked Gaian Wildebeast added to his manifest, by your leave."
She sashays off toward the end of the bar to discuss Schedules with Pip. As she passes the pair she flashes her train-stopping smile at the Zoner.
"Enjoy your stay, Doctor."

"Good lass, that 'un." Finn says with a sigh.
"An' as to me condition, Doc, Oi'm bloody fit as a fiddle, Oi is. Many thanks to ye n' yers. Oi 'ardly need th' cane no more, Oi just keep it around as Oi feel it adds a touch o' dignity to this old smuggler."

He smiles again, and slides a stack of C-notes from his sporran towards Holliday. "Consider this 'ere a donation to yer medical supply chest, aye? An' a tip fer th' fine vodka."

"Ye'll join me in a round aye?" He asks, pointedly looking again at Holliday's blurring cards as he heedlessly shuffles. "An' a game p'raps as well?" He looks around, seemingly troubled. "Speakin' o' p'rapses, p'raps Congressman Beast'll show 'is mug an' join us fer a few..."

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