He gives a little toast to her, and downs a few more hearty swallows. Good. He's starting to get back in the right frame of mind - where everything is dulled, where everything is less fraught, where he feels cut off from everything. It's the ideal level of drunk. It's - not a level he's often able to get at, nowadays.

"If I was, that's good," he says, wiping off his own mouth. "Nightmares are useful. What do you dream about nowadays?"