"Cold, huh?" Eamon's grin faltered for a moment, and he was silent. He didn't know how Angus would respond to the full truth, so he gave a partial answer. 
"I'm from one of the Hibernian kingdoms that faces the sea to the west. This is whiskey, what I have right here," He lifted his canteen onto display, and changed the subject as fluidly as possible. "an' the other flask in my pouch is a 'ole 'ell of another story. Brewed back home, too."
"It doesn't always snow, but, beh gahd, is it cold there. That's what this an' the whiskey's for, eh?" He puffed on the furred collar of his elk-skin and looked expectantly at the other.