It was possible that when he finally turned mortal, John Amsterdam would drop dead from centuries of smoking.
Smoking had been a recreational activity well before the European settlers had arrived, and it had spread through the colonies like wildfire. John had picked up the habit at fourteen, right off the boat. He had tried to give it up like
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It was also nice to be in a smoky bar again. The shift away from smoking in public places was one that would never sit well with him - who, after all, would want to know what a London pub really smelled like underneath all the cigarettes, cigars and pipes' smoke?
Reilly turned at the bar to survey the room, and noticed a familiar face settled in comfortably with a hookah, looking up at the tendril of smoke floating toward the ceiling.
He ambled over and set his drink down on the table beside John Amsterdam. "Is that tobacco, or something that lets you see the mysteries of the universe in that smoke?"
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"Besides, mysteries I've got plenty of. It's answers that I need."
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The light presented a problem. "Sorry," he said. "Fresh out. Unless you really want to have an inexperienced wizard try and light your cigarette with a brand new wand. I'm almost as good at Incendio as I am at Aguamenti. You can guess which one I've had more practice with."
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