To his credit, Tom's first reaction was not to haul off and hit someone. Instead, he went very, very still, looked around him, and then took a pull of his hip-flask, leaving the smell of strong booze wafting through the air around him.
Then he turned to look at Quinn, and (with great dignity) pointed his Shillelagh at him.
"How're yeh," he said, conversationally. "This stick is capable of plunging several very sharp and painful branches into your chest if I want it to. I don't particularly want to do that, and I somehow doubt you want me to either, so maybe you could tell me WHAT THE FUCK IS GOIN' ON?!"
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