Cesare led Nikki by the arm down the gangway of the Arosa Star and stepped off onto Irish soil. They'd docked in the new Republic that morning and the crew was busy unloading the baggage. The city was a cheery bustle of activity around the two as they waited patiently for the car Cesare had sent ahead for. His man, Paul, from back in Vegas still had some family who held some influence around town and was happy to lend some help to his old friend.

Finally the Bentley pulled up to them and the men from the ship began placing their bags in the trunk for them. Cesare refused the chauffeur's offer to open their door, electing instead to open the door for Nikki himself. After seating himself next to her in the back, the driver turned around with and introduced himself with a deep accent, "Hello Ms. Swango, Mr. Torretta. I'm Patrick Donally, an old cousin of Paulie's. Welcome to Eiréann's Isle! I'm to be your driver for the length of your stay and will take you absolutely anywhere it is you'd like to go, just say the word."

Cesare grinned at the man's enthusiasm before replying, "Well, Patrick, we've just spent five days rocking back and forth across the Atlantic, I think it would be nice to find our lodgings and take in some of the local scenery along the way."

"Aye, I catch yer meanin', sir."

"We'll be heading to Waterford straight away then." Cesare instructed. The driver's eyebrows raised up in the rear-view mirror evidently impressed with the selection.

"Of course, sir, country scenes out to Waterford 'tis then."

Cesare couldn't help but watch Nikki staring out of the car windows pointing at little oddities along the way through Dublin and into the southern countryside. It became readily apparent outside the city why it was called the Emerald Isle. The entire country seemed as if it were strewn with the pure green jewels. They passed few other travelers southwards. The occasional buggy or rider passed against the horizon before they reached a lovely hamlet of a town with the tiny indicator "Waterford" written on a sign along the main road.

Eventually they finally separated from the town proper and came upon their lodging, Waterford Castle.

He watched Nikki's face light up as she saw the facade appear from the road. He had paid to rent the entirety of the castle so they wouldn't have to worry about other guests wandering around the grounds. It was to be the perfect getaway.

As the car stopped, and they exited, he couldn't wait for her to voice her reaction.

Immediately off the boat, the difference was noticeable. The air was cleaner, purer. The landscape was green and blue and natural, compared to all the city living she'd become accustomed to. Even the quietness was deafening by comparison.

The Bentley that pulled up had her giving Cesare a double-take; he'd saved their casino heist money, obviously. She smiled appreciatively as the man himself dismissed the driver and opened the car door for her before getting in himself. The drive was pleasant, the driver even more so; light banter and chit chat as the view unrolled like a canvas beyond the car windows. Her hand never left Cesare's, tightening even, when she spotted fabulous things, new things, silly things. She'd never seen sheep before. She nearly asked the driver to stop the car so that she could pet one; what did wool feel like when it was still on the animal?

Finally, the castle approached. Blinking several times as she got out of the car, Nikki tore her gaze from the facade and gaped at Cesare. 

"You...rented this? The whole thing? Remind me to increase your taxes," she said, too awestruck to put any believable heat into her words. Her eyes told the real story, though. In this moment, she wanted to be no where else but right here, right now, with this man.

"You're terrible. I can never top this, and you know it," she said, throwing her arms around him and sending them into a spin in the driveway.

The thought that he'd made her happy thrilled him. He spun her in his arms in the drive of the old castle before kissing her and setting her feet back on the ground.

"Just wait until you see the inside." he gloated with his eyes aglow. He would've given her the moon if he could.

He walked her, nearly skipping into the foyer of the old building complete with old stone arches and medieval heraldry above a roaring cut-stone fireplace. The various maids and butlers curtsied and bowed to their new 'employers' for the foreseeable future. There was a small army of servants which assured they would never want for anything so long as they were in the castle.

Through to the next room was a dining room complete with a long rectangular table fit for royalty near an adjoined kitchen. Cesare let Nikki wander for a moment as he secured the keys to their suite.

"Follow me, Love." he instructed as he took her by the hand and pulled her up the staircase onto the second floor. Moving down the abandoned hall quickly he found the correct door and opened it with a twist of his wrist. Inside was a long beautiful suite with sofas in front of stone fireplaces which opened into a veiled bedroom complete with a four post canopy bed and as if it wasn't enough, in the main room was a bar with a connecting door and when the bell on the bar was rung, a bartender would rush from down the hall to pour drinks inside the room itself.

Cesare let Nikki have a look at the place for a moment before asking,

"Well? You wanted to go to Ireland. How do you like it?"

What does one say, when confronted with extravagant bliss? Each room surpassed the next; the foyer alone was something she could have lived in. The dining room was decorated impeccably and left her longing for the art on the walls. The bedroom was, well...the damn suite extended the length of the castle and had a direct line to the servants. 

What does one say, when looking upon the excited features of the one who'd brought you here, trying with everything he had in him to impress you with such grand gestures as this? Did he not know that an alleyway hovel would suffice when all you ever wanted was right there, inside Cesare Torretta?

Turning to face him, Nikki shook her head with a smile. 

"You're so beyond needing to arrange something like this, but I love that you did. And I love you," she said, staring at the canopy bed and smirking.

The problem with antiques? They couldn't handle the abuse.

Later that evening when the bags had been unpacked and all the necessary exploration around the grounds had been done, Cesare found himself seated next to Nikki on one of the luxurious sofas in their room in front of a centuries old fireplace. They'd rested the entire afternoon and hadn't seen anything but the countryside and this castle the whole day.

As the fire crackled before them he leaned his head down towards her. Her eyes were closed as she lay up against his chest. Softly he asked, "Are you content to lie here and rest, or would you like to go find some trouble?" he grinned at her as her eyes opened, "Could be a nice change from all the prudish company on the ship."

Her lips quirked at that; she'd had other things in mind but stepping out sounded fun.

"Trouble in town, I assume? What would be the proper attire for that, my love? Something dressy for a crashed party with Ireland's rich and famous and inebriated? Or something casual for the down and dirty streets of Dublin for some rowdy pub-hopping?" She said before her smile faltered a bit. 

"I hear the food tastes like shit here, is that true? Maybe we should order up first..." she added a bit worriedly, hoping the rumors were false, but she'd never actually heard anything positive about the country's food, so better safe than sorry.

Cesare thought for a moment, "I'm sure we can find something edible in the city," he reassured her, "but as for what to wear..." his eyes glowed a mischievous light, "...wear something you don't mind getting dirty."

Not but twenty minutes later, they both emerged from the castle. Cesare had changed into a loose fit white buttoned shirt with his sleeves rolled to his elbows in anticipation for a much less formal setting. They found Patrick leaning against the car,

"Patrick! We're looking for a party." Cesare informed him, "Something a bit more rambunctious if you can catch my meaning."

Patrick smiled in understanding, "By all means, ser, I've got moor an' twinty fine establishments where ye may find what yer lookin' for." Cesare helped Nikki into the back of the car and they began towards the lights of the newly independent Dublin city.

As darkness fell, Nikki reached for Cesare's hand in the back of the car, her sapphire bracelet the only concession to fashion this evening. She'd chosen a button-down much like Cesare's, with the sleeves rolled to her elbows, and the tails untucked over leg-hugging black trousers and matching knee-high boots. Her makeup was spare, and her hair was pulled back in a jaunty ponytail, with a loose tendril trailing down over one eye.

The car eventually came to a stop in front of a pub with a lamb's head painted on a sign above the entrance. "Lamb's Head Pub, 'tis the best leg o' lamb in the city, wit the best Irish whisky yer money kin buy," he said merrily as he slung an arm over the seat and beamed at the couple in the back. Pounding Irish music could be heard through their closed windows, and before either could speak, a man was thrown roughly through the front door and onto the sidewalk by what looked to be an aproned barkeep.

"Sod off, ye feckin' lightweigh'!" The barkeep shouted down at the huddled mess of a man. The driver of their car opened his mouth to speak when Nikki interrupted.

"It's perfect." She said before turning her smile on Cesare, her eyes glowing. "Shall we?"

Cesare grinned at her with half his mouth, and gestured for the door,

"After you, Cinderella." he joked. They exited the car to the raucous coos of the few patrons outside the building aimed at their ride, "eh Yank! Fancy set o' wheels y'have 'ere. A real dandy showin up ain't ye?"

"It's a Bentley, Paddy, and don't dirty it up by looking at it!" Cesare threw over his shoulder at the drunk as they stepped over the man on the ground.

Inside was a cramped and ruddy brown bar filled to the brim with the working class of the city. Stout manual laborers and green-eyed city girls no doubt spending the money from their new jobs on an evening of fun. The dull noise of the crowd was dampened by a high scratching of stringed instruments around a central booth. Cesare had to press in close to her in the crowd and placed his hand on the small of her back as they made their way to the bar. Cesare simply nudged a more drunken man off a stool to give Nikki a place to sit. The man took it in stride as some fortuitous sign that it was time to go home.

He leaned over the top of the bar, "Hey!"

A wirey man appeared from the other side of the bar, "What will you be drinking then?" he said surprisingly without an accent that seemed to plague the establishment.

"I don't think it'd be a proper visit if we didn't start with a Guinness," Cesare started, "Give us a glass of some hometown whiskey as well." He inclined his head to his darling girl, "Anything else you want, love?"

"Yes, two boilermakers, please," she said, a slow smile spreading across her face as the bartender pulled two Guinnesses and then raised an appreciative eyebrow while pulling two additional drafts and pouring two shots of whisky that he set down beside them.

"That's a lotta drinking, Miss, sure you can handle it?" He asked, sizing up her frame.

"Damn straight. It's the tall one here that maybe can't," she replied, dropping one of the shots into the lager and lifting the glass as it foamed over. Blowing the head off, she tilted back the pint glass and drank, her throat working until the glass was empty and the shot glass inside slid forward and met her lips. She brought the glass down on the bar top with a victorious whack, drawing the attention of several of those crowding around them.

"Who here can drink me under?" She called out before turning to look at her beloved. "Will it be you, tall, dark, and handsome? Your lips say no, but those blue eyes of yours say yes..."

He was impressed. Drinking had never really been his game, but he would be damned if he was going to take a challenge in an Irish pub lying down. Instead he dropped his own shot into his glass and raised it to his lips taking the whole of the liquid down respectably before also placing his glass on the bar top. He then, preemptively, grabbed the second lager and attacked it as well. He was already beginning to feel the rush of blood to his head by the time he finished the second glass and as he set it down, he gave Nikki a victorious look.

"What's..." he blinked slowly, "What's next, Love?" he asked, secretly hoping she'd concede.

A small crowd was beginning to press in around them, no doubt wanting to catch a glimpse of the pretty American girl who was issuing drinking challenges to Irishmen.

Her jaw slid to the side in humor as she gazed up at him. Insanely attractive anyway, he was even more so now that the alcohol had brought color to his cheeks and a glaze to his eyes. She held three fingers up to the bartender and, after he'd deposited three more shots on the bar, she let out a laugh as a touch of fear passed Cesare's features. 

"Don't worry. They're not for you," she said, raising one shot after the other and knocking each back with a frightening speed and proficiency. 

"It's okay, you don't need to keep up. Just leave it to us professionals. Right, boys?" She piped up, to the cheer of the bystanders as she tossed a wad of cash on the bar and indicated with a spin of her finger that she was buying a round for the house.

Cesare took a seat on the next stool to steady himself, as he watched Nikki down three more shots. Was there anything she couldn't do? He hadn't found it yet. She had the room eating out of the palm of her hand, and all he could think was how lucky he was that she was his.

Then a hand popped out of the crowd behind him and rested on his shoulder. His balance was a touch off and he reigned his head back to see who it was, but they emerged from his periphery before he fully turned. He gathered it was a girl as she passed in front of him, letting her hand linger along his shoulder. Before he knew it, the green-eyed brunette was up sitting on his lap in the stool with her legs swinging off the side. In her other hand she lifted a glass of whiskey to his lips and nearly drowned him with it as it rushed into his mouth, "Don't be so sad, darlin'" she said as she brought her face close to the side of his head, "let's have sum fun, ey?"

The drink nearly sent Cesare into a coughing fit, but he downed it. He looked down from the glass in the woman's hands just in time to see Nikki...

Under any other circumstance, Nikki would have had fun with the poor girl before doing something so rash, but the booze and the stress she'd been under lately pushed her in the wrong direction. Without thinking, her hand shot out and grabbed a fistful of hair before yanking hard enough to send her sliding backwards off of Cesare's lap and onto the ground. Nikki twisted her grip and the girl was now facing her, on her knees. 

​​​​​"Aww don't be sad, Darlin'," she said, watching as fiery Irish temper rose in the other woman's eyes. Her mouth opened to speak but Nikki cut her off.

"Let's have some FUN." She growled into her face before bringing it to her knee in a sickening crunch. Nikki already had her fist reared back when a male voice broke through her mist of outrage.

"HEY! THAS' ME SISTER, YE FEKKIN' BITCH!" 

Nikki's eyes met Cesare's then, and they exchanged a grin before both turned into the crowd and Armageddon ensued.

Cesare couldn't recall a time when Nikki had gone the way of fists with anyone, and seeing her fly into such a blind rage was...attractive in an odd way. He headed off the apparent brother of the girl Nikki had by the hair before he could reach her and took him by his collar as the crowd collectively began to back away.

He spun the man around and pressed him back against the bar top, knocking over a stool in the movement. The man's instinct was to immediately throw a punch and the melee was on. He clocked Cesare well on the cheek to which Cesare replied with a jab straight to the man's nose. His reflexes were decidedly slower after the alcohol, but every man in the room was inebriated to some extent. Lucky thing too, as a man emerged from the crowd behind him and wrapped an arm around Cesare's neck, evidently a friend of the first. Cesare released the man on the bar to grab for the second man's arms, which earned him a couple good shots to the gut. Eventually, Cesare was able to dig his elbow into his assailant's ribs and escape the hold.

Two on one. That's alright, Cesare was a scrapper and two drunk Irish workers shouldn't be much of a problem. He could feel the warm line of blood beginning to run down the cut on his cheek. He raised his hands and took a sideways glance at Nikki before charging.

Watching the blood trickle down Cesare's face simply fueled the fire even more. Unfortunately, it gave her pause long enough for the bloody sister to rear up and slam Nikki with a teeth-rattling uppercut that made her see stars. She'd never been hit that hard; this Irish girl was feisty!

Blinking her eyes to clear them, she faked a left before drilling the broad with a right that connected solidly with the left side of her face as she moved to block. Nikki watched as the girl landed on her ass and stayed there, shaking her head and trying to avoid the stampede of brawling feet that soon enveloped her. Nikki's throat felt wrong; reaching up, her fingers found a ragged piece of flesh hanging there. Ms. Fiery had been wearing a jagged ring of some sort.

"Cheater,' she murmured before pushing through the crowd and swinging her booted leg into the woman's ribs. She looked again for Cesare, who was trying to hold his own against two others. Without thinking, she picked up the overturned barstool and swung it down in an arc onto the brother's head, sending him to the ground to join his dazed sister. Left with a jagged chair leg in her hand, she stood at the ready behind Cesare's opponent, ready to jump into his fray as well if the wrong man got the upper hand.

He had glanced over just in time to see a bar stool come slamming down on the brother of the girl with a terrifying crack. The man just crumpled under the weight of it. Nikki was standing behind, breathing heavily. Cesare took advantage of the distraction she'd created and gave a brutal hook to the man standing in front of him that nearly spun him completely around. Cesare was surprised he hadn't snapped the man's neck with the way he contorted.

He followed the punch with a bone crunching kick to the man's knee that sent it sprawling out sideways, likely dislocated. The man fell gasping for air to his one good knee. Cesare took a half-step backwards and drilled his foot beneath the man's chin sending him flying backwards. When the brawl had ended, Nikki was left holding the still-broken leg of a bar stool standing over the curled crying body of the woman who'd crossed her, the unconscious man who she'd concussed with the stool, and the horribly handicapped man who Cesare had likely put in a wheelchair.

The crowd went silent. Cesare adjusted his shirt and walked over to the bar. He reached over to the back bar and took a full bottle of authentic Irish whiskey by the neck. Turning around without a word to the bartender, he took Nikki's hand and began to lead her through the crowd towards the door. Less because he wanted to leave, and more because he wanted to be alone with her...

Patrick met them in front of the building and quickly retrieved the car as the patrons began to look after the evening's casualties inside.

"Home, Patrick." Cesare instructed with a voice that didn't entertain discussion about the evening. Cesare was too busy staring at Nikki. In the darkened back of the car he lifted her chin up to look at the cut under her jaw. She'd been marred twice now in his care, but he had no doubt she would be all the more beautiful because of it. He didn't say anything, but communicated everything he needed to through the palm of his hand on her face as he brought is lips up to hers.