[u]Bending his knees with a creak, Balthazar groans as he lowers his eye-level to that of Olivia. Reaching into his cloak, he draws a large ornate pipe from a pocket and packs it with some dried leaves, the distinct smell of cured rum emanating off of them. Drawing a small box of matches dwarfed by his massive fingers, he takes one and strikes it on the side of the box. Lighting the match, he taps it very lightly into the rum-smelling leaves creating a small smolder. A draft of smoke wafts up from the tinder smelling heavily of Rum as The old man takes a puff on the pipe. Exhaling smoke, he speaks while looking Olivia in the eyes.[/u] "[i]We all have have our habits, good or bad. Your grandpa doesn't mind a good puff or a drink every now and then, and he doesn't see why you shouldn't either.[/i]" [u]Standing up, he looks around at the ever increasing snowfall pelting down upon the white landscape.[/u] "[i]We should probably head inside or the cold will start getting to yeh. You're in full armor for gods sake, you need to warm up! And don't say your cold, grandpa can tell a cold soul apart from the rest.[/i]"