Faolan watched silently as Lucien tilted his wine glass back and finished it off. He rose an eyebrow, only slightly, impressed at the Frenchman's dedication to this crusade. It was clear by his words, tone, and actions that he wanted Faolan to give in to him. This made the Irishman feel incredibly conflicted. Of course, his rule about not drinking was no moral quandary, he simply did not prefer to be drunk, but the smug look on Lucien's face was pulling him in two different directions. On the one hand, he wanted to show the Frenchman that he could hold his liquor just fine, but on the other, he did not want to give in simply for the sake of frustrating his friend.

In the end, he could not resist Lucien's crooked smirk. He growled quietly in frustration, [color=a36209]"Fine, if you're so confident..."[/color] he grumbled, then rose two fingers to the bartender. The man looked over, having almost no other patrons in the bar this early in the evening. [color=a36209]"Whiskey, neat."[/color] Faolan said, and waited while the man smiled and grabbed a bottle of Jameson from the shelf behind him. He placed two glasses in front of them and poured two fingers of the amber liquid into each, then turned to put the bottle back. Having second thoughts, however, the man paused and then left the bottle there between Faolan and Lucien, smiled and walked away to serve someone else.

Faolan slid one of the glasses closer to Lucien as he picked his up, sharing a smirk of his own, [color=a36209]"Unless you want ice?"[/color] he asked, a challenge in his voice.