Oliver frowned; that last name, particularly, rang a bell. "Oliver," he answered, not bothering with a surname; he would have given a fake. He nearly blurted out, I know you, but held himself back; he was much too drunk to have that conversation intelligently. "And I didn't shatter on the ground." His nonchalant sarcasm was never far, even when he was drunk. Yes, he was all right.

As all right as one could be in these circumstances.