“I'll have you know,” Sweeney started. St Patrick's Day was a bit of a hot button for him. Chasing the snakes out of Ireland. Really? What moron believed that nonsense? And it wasn't even like St Patrick did anything monumental. There were far more influential people who came from the church after him that did more. “That few people even know what St Patrick's Day really celebrates. They simply celebrate it as a chance to honor Irish heritage, my man.”
Which it was. Which was primarily why he tried to not get too worked up over the holiday celebrating the canonization of a man who supposedly brought Christianity to the people. Bah. “The history, the old music... the greenness of the place. And with that history comes magic, legend and superstition and everything that you consider 'pagan' rather than just the natural way of things.”
Sweeney gave a cheeky grin and lifted up his drink. “So drink your swill, man, and think about whether or not what you think of as pagan is truly pagan or just the natural order. A need for balance and answers. As for me, I'll enjoy my whiskey.” Then he tipped his glass toward the Englishman and took a drink.
Setting his glass down, he took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, packed them against his palm before opening, pulling one free, bringing it to to his lips and lighting it happily.