[i]"I don't speak immigrant." The remark was laced by an accent, one of Texan descent and accompanied by an underlying tone of a jesting nature. The bartender put the drink of the cowboy on the counter and slid it to him - a full bottle of some unnamed whiskey in a brown bottle - and he started taking sips without sparing any time. He seemed unphased, and while he wasn't exactly able to hold it all, he knew that his limit lied past one bottle of liquor. "Going to have to speak English, man." [/i]