”“I can understand that,” said Grace. It was beyond stupid that supposedly the agents could take advantage of having their big male bodies, but ...he wasn’t allowed to use her small female one. She wasn’t going to say so though.“And this,” said the man, producing the tracker she’d put in there.“A tracker too. They underestimated you,” the woman studied her, “and I can understand why. But don’t count on any more of that. Give me your hands.”Grace put her hands out and the man deftly wrapped a zip. "We were brought up on O'Connell's Irish Ale," Seamus told him. "It was perfected by our Great Grandparents." Bah, the Irish don't make any decent ale. Here what they drink is whiskey ... corn whiskey," he told us."We don't drink whiskey," Saraid told him, "and we are not fond of wine either." Since the meal was over, and we didn't care for the refreshments, we rose and left the Officers' Mess, taking our lanterns with us, since it was dark out by now. I stopped on the way out to thank Colonel. More

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