Cassandra frowns vaguely, but she does pick up her fork again and turn her attention to the food. Now that she thinks of it, she can't really recall the last time she had more than a quick bite to eat as she hurried from one meeting to the next. Not that she would admit that to Malcolm.

"I know," she says grimly, and gestures to the papers spread over the table. "That is - it is part of what I am trying to account for. It will not do to run out of food before more supply caravans are able to reach us, and we have so many here now." The refugees, the rifters, those eager to join the Inquisition - it is a wonder Skyhold can hold them all.

She shoots a glance at him, needing to make at least a token effort at defending her own health and ability to work. "I am not the only one seeing spirits."