He knows. Alistaire may not have the capacity for emotion of a 'normal' person, but he knows flesh better than most, pain and pleasure alike. He shifts his jaw from side to side testingly.

"I've never thought of myself as particularly weak, but just the same, I never expected to be a shipwreck survivor. Washing up on some miserable mass of rock and birds. Not even so much as a pig to take down for food. I've had my fill of fish and waterfowl for some time.. and I can't say I recommend iguana." He looks at the roughness of his hands, as if they were someone else's body. "I suppose I should be glad I at least can manage a decent throw with a sharp rock. It was almost two weeks before anything useful from the wreck washed up." If he heard the urging for him to rest, he's ignoring it, lost in trying to recount the events.