Ithacles finally did something with the ladle she'd handed him. He tilted it into his heavy wooden cup and set the long handled thing down on the bar between them. Without touching the drink just yet he picked something up from a shelf beneath the bar. He had a pipe prepared, a round billiard style with a roughly hewn bowl.
He stuck the bit between his teeth and lit a match on a rough piece of sandpaper mounted to the underside of the bar. Lighting the pipe took a few moments, and the Prince switched his hazel eyes between the bowl of tobacco and the woman across. She did look drunker than he'd ever seen her. Truth of fact he was stalling--a guilty feeling loomed up inside him. Should he know what she was celebrating?
Ithacles took the bit from his mouth and blew out a thin wisp of mild smoke.