Don't worry, Alistair is secretly preening with manly pride.
But right now, his face is flushed red with embarrassment. As luck would have it, though, the goofy smile on his face is working wonders to distract from the unnatural color crimson of his ears.
"So," he says, his tone a little more cheerful than it had been a moment before. "Be myself, and don't talk during the moving picture. I think I have it."
And as they move down Oxford, one of the buildings--a huge towering one with a sign emblazoned with golden dragons on either side of it--Alistair's eyes light up with recognition. Though almost all the buildings looked very nearly the same to him--all towering rock and stone--the sign was distinctive to him, if not altogether forgettable to anyone else who might have passed.
"I recognize this building," he says, gesturing towards it. "It's not far from my apartment, but I don't know in which direction."
Okay, so not very helpful. And unfortunately, neither will be the next course of dialogue.
"Do you have dragons here?" he asks. It's an innocent question. The Dragons of Ferelden look very much like the dragons he's seen in moving pictures and on decor like the address sign above.