With the additional help, the all-too-familiar weight of the prosthetic is gone; Alejandro lets out a sigh and rolls his shoulders back, relieved without it. There's a pause when he feels Zevran's talented fingers roam over his skin; it's slightly reddened, but not irritated. By now, it's toughened up enough to be used to wearing the fake arm at long hours.

The suggestion earns a sharp laugh and he's pressing his lips against Zevran's neck. "Shit, you'd probably need a hammer and chisel to get anywhere. Good thing you're down here, huh?" He lightly nips at the skin there.

He doesn't rest openly in one of the tents in or around Skyhold. He wants nothing to do with the Wardens if it can be helped, save for two he can think of immediately, and the amount of friends he has can be counted on one hand. So, he sleeps in the Undercroft, and that's clearly indicated as he gently guides Zevran back to his bedroll.