[Dodger's eyes sharpen a bit, and he sets the bottle aside with a huff. They'd been doing great with this game of subtlety, Ragnar has to ruin it.]

What's it matter? You agreed and you went through with it, so why bother with what would've happened to someone else in your shoes?

[He sounds almost like an annoyed child, as he speaks. He moves away again, searching through his cabinets for something else that he knows Ivar has liked.]

Was and will make me ill, I take a gram and simply am. [He offers another bottle, this one smelling purely of alcohol and filled only a quarter.] Here, you wanna try this instead? It's just Irish whiskey.