The boy blushed at Absinthe's attention and smiled as he was pointed towards a seat, sitting near Frederick and offering him a lingering glance. Opium took note and watched the two carefully. Attraction was a powerful thing and could prove itself interesting in the future.
"Drink, boy..." he said, sliding the glass a little closer to him with the back of his hand, then reaching into his pocket for his cigarettes. "You certainly don't mind if I smoke, do you Absynia?" he asked, black cigarette already halfway to his lips and match ready to be struck. The smell of opium was vague, but noticeable, from the cigarette and Opium was mindful to leave the metal case out on the table, should anyone else wish to pluck from it.
"Ah right-" he continued, "a poet. I have a fondness for poets, you know. And I would be quite happy to indulge him." His dark brows lifted slightly and a ghost of a smirk moved across his features. Certainly, there was something a bit smoky and nefarious about that tone, if one paid close enough attention.