Saint Paddies day (Open to all) (Non-canon)

Fionn walked into the bar wearing a generic green St Paddies day hat with a lucky clover on the front, and a shirt that said "Kiss me, i'm Irish"
"Ill have a glass of one of your aged whiskeys please" He said to the barman as he sat down at one of the stools and cracked his knuckles  
The bar was a generic bar, with hard wood floors and walls, and a few tables with one lonely dance floor and stage for bands to play in.  
Fionn briefly considered playing his flute up there before deciding against it and waiting for his drink, which arrived moments later

While remaining leaned securely upon the exterior edge of the bar's structure, a certain boy in his late teens would be gazing across the room. Eyes of a bloody crimson would streak about freely, registering each and every sight around him within his intellect. The occasional drunkard caught his eye, be it male or female, causing him to grin much like an idiot in between sips of his own alcoholic beverage. Aha, it's nice to see that people are already in spirit for today... he thought, crouching toward the side for a brief moment as someone stumbled past him.

It was then that the teen averted his gaze toward the entrance, catching sight of a newcomer. Clad immensely within green and the normal St. Patrick's Day clothing, the distant lad would appear. The grey-haired rogue gave a hearty laugh at the sight. Once another swig of his drink was taken he would set it upon the bar counter, resting his arms upon it afterwards and turning his full attention toward the other. "Aye, nice getup ya got there, man. Someone's high 'n spirit, aren't they now?" he called, resting his gaze upon the other.

Fionn chuckled slightly from his sitting position on the stool as the words of Ryan reached his ears. "Ye true enough, jest got ta wear a shirt under yer jacket and a hat on ya head and you look proper." He said with his accent leaking into his speech, pointing to his shirt which was visible under his open jacket.

"Ayeeee, tha' ain't all true, man," spoke the lad in reply, continuously grinning like the idiot that he was like beforehand. His left arm gliding faintly across the wooden counter surface, he would hook it around the western side of his flank, grasping hold of his drink and lifting it back up. It had been a quarter of the way done when he had first rested it down, though it only took a mere couple of seconds after it had been brought up once more before it was gone completely. A rather refreshed sigh freely made its way from the Revolutionary's mouth; the sound would soon be accompanied by a somewhat loud boom as he slammed his cup back upon the bar surface with the uttermost vigor. "'N my 'pinion, all ya need is one teeeeeeny 'lil distinguishin' figure tha' makes ya...ya." While this was being said, Ryan slid his glass back down the countertop, catching a bartender's attention while doing so. Moments later another glass filled to the brim would slide back in its place. Not wasting any time, the lad picked the second drink up and downed it down until a quarter was left. "Though, I say amen t'yer words, man." The rest of his drink would disappear, another loud chortle filling the air about him as he once again slammed the glass strongly upon the bar top. His gaze shifted over toward the other, his smile still completely visible. "Amen, mister...?"

Fionn finished off his glass of whiskey from half full to nothing and offered his hand to Ryan for a shake. "Macgorm, Fionn Macgorm, and you Mr?" He said with a happy sounding voice and his signature grin as he thought that he rather liked this Ryan guy.
"Hah, he's already drunk, guess that's non-hunters for ya"

Little did Fionn know, the ax wielder wasn't actually drunk; he was far from it, in fact. Excluding the times that desired a deep level of seriousness, the current way that he was speaking was the normal way that he had always done so; such was the reason why people often thought he was somewhat uneducated or, as the situation called for, drunk. As soon as he finished off his second drink he would slide the empty glass across the counter, grasping hold of another full one as the same bartender slid it to him a mere moment or two afterward. Grinning and nodding in thanks, he would shift his attention back toward the other drinker. Seeing as he offered a hand in greeting he lifted his remaining extremity, holding the other man's within a rather firm grasp. "Ryan Matthew Arckeil Varryx, at yer service, m'good man," he spoke, his smirk remaining as it was all the while. He processed a strong shake of the hand after saying this, releasing his from the hold and tucking it back within one of his vest hoodie's pockets. "Ya ca' call me Thanatos, though. M'friends often call m'tha'. 'ell, 'ny variations 'f the name work, too; Than, Thanny, 'ever the 'ell ya ca' think 'f. Aye, aye; ya think 'f a name, I'll respond. Prefer it better than m'real name, 'nyways."

A pause would be taken as the lad downed a good majority of his third drink down yet again, with no sweat at all.

"...Er...well, maybe I'll respond. Maybe."