[Ithaqua tilts his head down, considering the person before him and what she's just responded with... and decides that he shouldn't trust anyone who claims to be fine with the cold unless they're something like him, or full of fur.

Then he pulls out a thin vial of orange-brown liquid from his cape.]

Take this if you fee a head cold coming on, then. In the North, of course. It shan't be preventing anything, that's not the formula I brewed it with.