Mars followed the rest of the group to a small, cottage-like building. Rather a nice little place, he thought. "Might make an excellent farmhouse." A sign over the door said, 'Brighid's Bruidean'. Now if someone would just pronounce it. He ducked his head to keep from whacking it on the door frame and stepped inside. Immediately, he changed his mind about its potential as a farm. It still seemed small and cozy, but somehow it managed to accomodate the hundreds that were milling around inside. The rafters were a little low, but he managed to steer clear of them as he followed Brighid to the bar.

"Now, then...a proper uisage beatha for me Roman friend here," she said to the woman behind the bar. "And none of the cheap stuff, Katlyne. Nothing but the guid stuff for us. Eh, Mar-o?"

Having never tasted the local spirits, Mars supposed he wouldn't know the good stuff from the bad, but he nodded anyway. Katlyne MacRoth whipped out two glasses and sent a waterfall of golden liquid cascading into each. Brighid picked them up and handed one to Mars. "Slainte!" she cried and downed the contents in one gulp.

"Only one glass?" Mars inquired. Custom dictated that he should drink seven. One for each letter in his hostess's name.

Brighid smiled slyly. "Do you not want t'taste it first?"

That had never been in the rules as far as Mars could remember, so he shook his head.

"Ah...you're a man after me own heart!" Brighid exclaimed. "Katlyne...six more for each of us."

While Katlyne busied herself pouring twelve more glass of uisage, Mars examined the one he had. Rather a nice color, if a bit weak. Still, the smell made up for that. It was anything but weak. In fact, it nearly made Mars' eyes water. Lifting the glass, he tried to remember a toast ... any toast ... that might be appropriate. Such intellectual pursuits weren't something that had ever interested him. "Cast wood upon the fire, thy loins gird round with warmer clothes, and let the tosts abound. To your health!" He hefted the glass and then toss it back in one draft, as Brighid had done.

It was an interesting feeling. Not much taste to it, actually...more like liquid fire. It burned going down, but it was a nice burn.

"Well?" Brighid demanded. "Is it not the finest alcohol ye've ever been privileged to toss down yer gullet?"

Mars cleared his throat and thought for a moment. "Not sure. I think I need to try another one." He picked up the second glass and held it toward Brighid. She followed suit, tapping her glass against his. "May friendship, like wine, improve as time advances. And may we always have old wine, old friends, and young cares," Mars said. They both drained their glasses. "Better that time. I think that glass had more flavor to it. Shall we?" He picked up the third glass, "Here's hoping that you live forever and mine is the last voice you hear."

By the sixth glass, Mars had decided that uisage became more flavorful the longer you left it in the glass. "Last glass," he said, picking up the seventh glass and holding it up.

Brighid sighed, "Well? Ye still have na told me what you think."

"Friends we are today, and friends we'll always be. For I am wise to you, and you can see through me."

They drained the drinks and Brighid slammed the glass onto the bar. "Now, me boyo. Answer me question! What d'ya think of uisage breatha?"

Mars sucked his teeth and then licked his lips, savoring what little flavor was left on his tongue. He studied the rafters for several long moments, and then lowered his head to look at Brighid. "Maybe just one more...."