There's almost a whirring of processing, all the different smells. It's rare that someone gives them his sense of smell: taste was the most often used, with the occasional hearing use for when Natalie needed the world to be smaller and more private. Smell is a whole new world in many ways.

[I can smell both of them! The oil is... acrid, heavy, clinging in a way while the paper is like dried wood. ...which makes sense, of course. Is that other thing the ink? I don't think I've ever smelled ink. It's... sharp and a little stinging.

Or is that the oil?

The herbs- those I'm a little familiar with. The ash as well but they're so *different* like this, night and day. Each time you breath in, there's something *new*-

It's so much! ]

He's delighted.