The good news is that even if it were a lyrium kit -- and he doesn't think Alistair would do that to him -- he knows a draught wouldn't actually help.

Alistair's distracted. He takes in a breath, holds it, and starts to undo his breastplate, as though neglecting to breathe will somehow make the process less painful.

Shit. He's still got to do his legs. How? He's done enough sleeping in his armor the last several weeks for an entire lifetime, or else he'd just leave everything alone.