The voice made Ron jerk, and even though he was looking at Neville it took him a few seconds to actually focus. "Er... oh yeah, I'm brilliant." Even though his voice was barely over a mumble, the sarcasm was easily detected. Ron wasn't sure who was talking to him, but as long as they weren't inflicting any pain then he didn't really care. He made another unsteady move to sit up, pushing the covers back, not even cringing at the fresh blood on his clothes. It was sad, but he'd grown accustomed to seeing it. "D'you know if they're coming back? Is this..." He tried to find the right word. It was more difficult getting his thoughts together than usual. "Where the servants sleep? Is that why there're so many beds?" Ron's words ran together, slurring.
Ugh. He felt like he had way too much firewhiskey.