"What I fookin" want," Finnigan snapped, breaking his cool, carefree exterior to show the rattled, angry man within. His fist slammed onto the table, sending whiskey sloshing around and spilling all over the dark wood. His gun flickered among the group as he shouted his desires. "What I want is for my countrymen to lead their own fookin" nation and not "ave to answer to you British, prissy lot!"