[h1]Dublin[/h1]

“So did you meet the lad who contacted you?” Christy asked Seamus as they strolled along the river. It was high lunch time in central Dublin and Seamus had a reprieve from his day-job long enough for the two of them to talk. He had messaged him after Christy's date with the gypsies that he had gotten through.

“Oh yea, I did.” Seamus replied as they walked slowly down the river-side. Lunch-goers were out in force but too preoccupied with their lives or office affairs to notice to the two men. But their conversation so broken by their passing it would hardly matter. And with both men in long suit coats they could be excused easily enough for young business officers. Though in truth, perhaps one was more than the other.

“I didn't get anything concrete out of him though.” Seamus admitted woefully. He turned up from watching the street to his friend's face looking down at him. Christy was easily stacks taller than the portly Seamus, “He's committed to help, but I didn't know what to say to him.” he blubbered. His face was a warm pink in the cold December wind.

“How committed is he?” Christy inquired.

Seamus shrugged, “He said he'd get back to us on his own time or something.” he reported, “I believe he wants to meet us personally but gave no details on where to meet, when and what.”

“He's being real bloody sneaky I take it?” asked Christy, turning back to continue the slow stroll down the street.

“Oh for sure.” shivered Seamus, “It gives me the creeps it does.”

“It's nothing our forebearers hadn't had to do.” reminded the kingly Christy, “You don't fight the English with the sticks in your yard or the knives in your drawers. You also don't do it directly.

“Any idea what sort of support this man will be offering?”

“I...” Seamus started, “I may have made him a promise we'd seek a loan of a million euros.”

Chrsity was unphased, “That's a tidy sum.” he remarked, unshot.

“Wait, you mean: really?” Seamus gawked, “You're not at all worried.”

“There's nothing that worries me that leads to us ultimately bringing back all Irish peoples. It's very romantic, I will admit. I will even concede that it might be impossible. But if the world can permit a Caliphate to rule in the Middle East and we stand idly by as they lob heads then there's nothing that says that bringing together the Irish once again under one banner isn't impossible. Even if in the unlikely circumstance of from Boston to Australia.”

“Jesus Christ, you're spooky mate.” Seamus commented.

“It's the pride talking.”