Mad Sweeney hasn't needed anyone to fight his battles at any point in his life, not at his size, not at the status he'd had before he'd fled from his death, but it's a sweet offer. One made sweeter by the fact that he knows she could do it, too. She could kill a man easier and with less effort than he'd have to put out to do the same.

"Wouldn't want you to get bored," he says. "I'll keep an eye out for people who need to be taught a lesson that can't be taught with my fists."

They have to exist. He's probably one of them. Getting into a fight has never once put a damper on Mad Sweeney's day.