"Drinking, fighting. All the same to me. And besides, I owe it to the world as an Irishman to see you have your first drink. Even in this shithole."

So because his hand was irrevocably in the possession of another, he pushed his way into the alehouse. The place was no abandoned, because things hadn't got quite that bad yet. But the place was quiet and things only seemed to grow more tense as Sweeney stood in the doorway. Nobody here was looking for trouble, otherwise they'd have been out there watching the show. These people just wanted to be left alone and drink. Royal sympathizers, most likely. It was not the best crowd to be found among, but Sweeney didn't particularly care.

It was an alehouse, so ale is what they got. Two half pints for the both of them. "Be sure to drink it up. You'll need it to make it through the rest of this shit."