"No," Sweeney protested, "I don't like what the City gave me. I don't fucken like it one fucken bit," he swore as he kicked at one of his forced brethren. Damn he hated this City sometimes. But, Sweeney had to take a moment to relax and remember that if it wasn't for this City, he'd be dead, because if he didn't relax a lot of these little leprechauns were going to end up on the business end of his fists.
He crossed his arms over his chest, looked over the woman and had to ask, "Where's your house?" He wasn't exactly expecting an answer, but it was a way to convey that he remembered her. Not that he was likely to forget her.
Then he looked around at the little leprechauns, still disgusted by their presence. What exactly were they doing with the coat he had taken off? Were they clinging to it? Cherishing it? How fucken bizarre.