Damien smiled at Chris's words, "A pure bred Irish would just hit the spot I think."  His deep hazel eyes watched as the liquid fire writhe in the glass as he poured it, watching as the last drips caused the surface to ripple before it settled as still as a mill pond.  Damien nodded, "Thank you."<br/><br/>He looked towards the window and watched thoughtfully for a moment as the rain pattered against the glass, its beading jewels glinting in the light that filtered out through the pub.  Damien's gaze was still wistful as he spoke, almost dreamily; "I like the rain ...I recall there were some of the most wondrous rainstorms in the Congo delta where ...where..." he blinked as his more mundane thoughts pricked his mind; what the<em>hell</em>was he on about.  He turned and smiled before bringing another forkfull of food to his mouth and losing himself in its taste.