If they attack you, you know they're bad has Jacob almost doubled up with rich, alcohol-fuelled laughter, although he'd find it funny sober too. It takes him a minute to calm down, patting her on the back because she really doesn't know how amusing what she's said is.

"The trick," He manages, after the laughter has stopped, "Is to attack them before they attack you." And with that he moves his left arm, letting the blade hidden in the leather bracer spring into place, longer than his palm, and then it's gone again in a moment. Yes, he's showing off. His sister would be angry, his father disappointed, but they aren't talking to a cute girl in a bar.

"Not really my sort of thing," Jacob replies, in regard to the brothel. "I tend to give away freebies." And really, honestly, it doesn't appeal to him. There's other ways of making money, he's sure of that. Whether it is completely legal or not doesn't matter too much, but it's a little more active that brothel work tends to be.

He grins at her, and winks. "They have whiskey in London Airy. My treat." As that's when their fries arrive, he gets them two whiskeys from the bartender at the same time.