Something about my fucking rapier wit. [The words were spoken quickly in response to the eyebrow; it was either that or her fucking stellar personality. When he asked for Irish Whiskey, Parker poked around behind the bar and pulled out a bottle of Jamison with a small sound of triumph. Setting it on the bar. she grabbed a second glass and shoved both in front of him.] Thank god there's the fucking pub or we'd be rioting every fucking week.