"Cooch dancer?" Connor chuckled, taking the cigarette from his mouth. "Like shakin' yer cooch?" He put his hands behind his head and swirled his hips. Hell, he should have been a cooch dancer. Snickering, he kept doing it before turning to the horse. "Ye like my cooch dancin' lad?"
"I am," Connor said, ceasing his 'dancing' and turning back to Faith. "Got here a few days ago. I was gettin' on a boat ta the US from Ireland with my brother and ended up here. What about you? What were ye doin' before gettin' whisked away on this nightmare from hell?"