[He doesn’t look any happier. He reaches into the bag again, takes out the other bottle of ale, opens it, and takes a sip from it.]

I was going to ask you to take my hand, but I know you don’t like it. And I don’t know if that would convince you that, at the very least, I’m not lying to you.

I wish I dreamed of much other than the Dead, these days.

[Tell him more, though.]