He kept his eyes focussed on the barmaid as she made her way into the crowd again. He knew from working in a bar earlier in his days, that the easiness she walked around was only a matter of practise for years. He for himself had quickly found out that he wasn't made to work in a bar and although by far not all bar personnel was good, this lass most certainly was. In a strange way she reminded him of a lass that had taken over a bar many worlds away. What was her name, Surely, Surety. No, Surly, that was it. But where with that girl it was obvious she was destined for other, far greater, purposes, he could see this barmaid being just that. But of course he could be mistaken. That'd happened before too. After all, he was just a human.<br/><br/>He picked up his pipe with his left hand, reaching into his pouch with his right and taking a little pluck of his beloved tobacco and carefully began to fill his pipe. For the next few minutes all his attention was on filling his pipe, making sure the tobacco was nicely and evenly spread in the pipe-head. He had learnt that focussing on his pipe and tobacco would make for a better and more relaxed smoke.<br/><br/>When he was done, he held the pipe, not lighting it for the moment. The comment made by the newcomer, the one with his head in the book and subsequently crashing into a wall, made him stiffen up slightly. He was almost certain that the man hadn't meant to say magic, but necrophilia. And if that were true, the tavern would have a dangerous person in its midst.<br/><br/>He leant back, taking a sip of the newly brought tankard, then lit a match he'd taken from one of his pockets, before carefully lighting his pipe. He took a slow, deep, puff and exhaled the smoke even slower. Time to relax, time to smoke his pipe.