"Huh" Arthur was sure he could figure it out. One way or another, it wouldn't kill him, he didn't think. He didn't know how it was working but he was already breathing easier.
"Hang on. I know you said money don't matter here, but there's something..." He went to the door and fetched the saddle, riffling through the bag on one side he found a crystal carafe, and a couple cigars. "I have more of these than I'll smoke, and a lifted a couple of these off the last fancy house I was in. It isn't much, fancy brandy, some of that aged stuff that goes down real smooth. And the cigars are made in Cuba." He stood straight and offered them to John. "Take 'em. I prefer cigarettes myself, but I can't smoke 'em they aggravate everything." He placed his hand over his chest. And this was the easiest he'd breathed in months, he wasn't going to risk that changing for a little nip of tobacco.