Good, good, threaten her! He thought as the man unsheathed his sword. But then the sword was being aimed at Sweeney and he cowered back against the ground. He felt pathetic in this form, unable to defend himself, not that his fists would have been much use against a sword, but paws were even more useless.
He was most certainly not a rat, no matter what the man said. Nor was his Jeannie's pet. He was Mad Sweeney and... well the Djinn was talking then, telling the man who Sweeney really was. Good, great... just tell the world that you've got a leprechaun in your custody. Before he knew it, they were going to demand to be taken to his hoard.
Not fucking likely to happen. He wasn't going to lead anyone anywhere.
“And I'd spit at you again. You're the one who made it rain beer on me!” He yelped up at her. And so help her if she kicked him. So help her by god.