Sweeney blinked again. Djinn? Him? He almost laughed, then he considered that there was only one Djinn in the City that Sweeney knew. Jeannie. This man knew that wretched woman. That infernal Djinn who had turned him into a dog and other such nonsense. “Do I look like a fucken Djinn?” He asked lowly.
He wasn't angry persay, just annoyed. “I can make gold appear from nowhere, I'm from fucken Ireland, and you think I'm a fucken Djinn?” He closed his palm and the coin disappeared, sent back to the hoard. He didn't need to risk losing another one. Was bad enough that Shadow's wife had a very important coin, and Jack Sparrow had another one. Sweeney just might have to kill himself if he lost another one.
He shook his head, pinched the cigarette between two fingers and puffed out a long breath of smoke, before bringing it back to his lips for another drag. It was best that he drank and smoked. It might keep his hands busy rather than wanting to wring the Englishman's neck.
“And if I were you, man, I'd avoid Jeannie. She might turn you into something... unnatural.”