Easy, easy. Drag it in, let it slip down. Don't hasten it. ( There's a trick to smoking a pipe, an art to it. One does not simply begin without supervision. But the man's enough of a natural to not incur the worst of the practice.

The Man in Black, appeased, claims his pipe back and nods on. ) Attaboy.

( Even says his thanks and pleases. Now, isn't he polite? Charming, for all he talks too much. )

Got no one, me. Some of the girls here are kind to me, but they're no blood. None of that left. Came storms or sickness or... funny, innit? Spend a life mastering the secrets of the universe, still can't do much before a cough. ( And the fevers that rouse after, the true risk. ) No... no one left for me. Won't be losing much. And you, nephew? Got yourself a wife? Kids?