He ignored the gesture and crossed the room to the wet bar in the corner. Taking down a crimson-flecked brandy snifter that had been hand blown by dwarven glass-makers of Germany, he loaded it with cracked ice and sluiced a chilled bottle of imported Cuige Chonnacht mineral water from Tir na nOg over it. He added two wedges of lemon and a wedge of lime to the drink and gently swirled the contents as he took the seat Fishbein had offered.