If he keeps his eyes shut too long, the gentle sloshing feeling of inebriation turns into the spins. Alistair opens his eyes, regards the ceiling, waits for the worst to pass.

"You're like...the opposite of the Black City. I see you around and I know I'm not in the Fade. Or that I can -- " He reaches out, just a little, forearm balanced on his knee. "That I'm close to getting out, at least. I'm somewhere the Veil's thin enough to look through. And if I just push a little more I'll make it out."

He doesn't sound particularly troubled about any of this. Just...thoughtful.