There is a pause, in which Solas accepts, privately, that he has not been as subtle as he would have liked. The ghost of that thought is in the cant of his head, the faint sketch of a bow in the nod he offers the rather... small person who has addressed him.

"As are the effects of any drink," Solas acknowledges the observation for truth: alright he's been nursing air for an hour in camouflage. The question is, what is anyone going to do about it? "Still, I have no intention of meeting current circumstances in a less than sober state. Perhaps you can sympathize, with my caution."

Being that the contents of his cup are not alone, in going undrunk, and unobserved. Your tea is cold, sir.

"Or are you hiding from something?"