"Heist gone bad? Wassail! Fujiko trying to get me with a bear trap again? Wassail! Having some kid getting in the way of a job? Wassail! Discovering that he two-hundred year old wine we stole has turned into vinegar due to time? Wassail!"

He bobs his head, following the rhythm that Jack started, and drinks more of that delicious, delicious wassail. It was infinitely sweeter than that rare two-hundred year old vintage that had soured in that dusty cellar over the centuries.