It was a fair question. Cassidy rarely went directly to the worst his money could buy. But he only had so much on him — and he couldn’t get ahold of Seamus. His cell phone had no reception, and the one he’d found when he’d woken up had a weirdly limited interface. Those little oddities were the only reason he was even considering being concerned by his situation.

Maybe when he didn’t feel so tired.

The bottle was set down in front of him, along with a glass, which Cassidy took to be rather optimistic on the bartender’s part.

“Quantity over quality, love.” He reached up to start unscrewing the little spout from the bottle’s mouth.