When Jackson seemed uninterested – and, more importantly – unamused by the non-stop drinking, Keiran tossed back his shot for him. Grimacing at the taste, he tossed the now-empty glass into a sink filled with water and soap. There it would soak until Keiran or the other bartenders had time to do the dishes.
Regarding Jackson with a confused stare, Keiran set about preparing his area for the rest of the night. He began by preparing his garnishes, cutting up limes as he considered Jackson's concern somewhat gleefully. Why it pleased him that the man was worrying about him was unknown, even to him, but Jackson surely didn't seem the type to worry and yet Keiran made him do so. “My kidney's fine, man...” he murmured, his voice slurring somewhat, though if it was from tiredness or the alcohol was unapparent at the moment.
“I've never had a problem with it before,” he say, somewhat sheepishly, looking down at the limes as he cut them into pinwheels, half-moons, and twists. “Never even really been hungover...” He considered the bottle of alcohol next to him, and would have tossed some more back if Jackson wasn't standing right there, looking ready to snatch it from him. “I'll stop... for now.”