"V--" "You're a good Irishman, right?" When Butch nodded, V said, "Irish, Irish ... let me think. Yeah ..." Vishous's eyes sobered, and in a voice that cracked, he said, "May the road rise to meet you. May the wind always be at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face and the rains fall soft upon your fields. And ... my dearest friend ... until we meet again may the Lord hold you in the palm of His hand."