"You are going to fall and hurt yourself." He mutters. "And I am going to laugh."

He should drop down before that happens, he knows, but he was here first. He has a right to sulk and hide and drink and not face this weighty reality for a little while longer but no, he isn't permitted that and it makes his jaw ache for how he clenches his teeth against it. "Get down, Alistair."

Rolling off, like a cat, he lands near that soft, worn blanket over hay. Settles there instead. If it'll keep Alistair from hurting himself. "They love an idea. They do not know me. They don't care to know me."