He looks—mildly—surprised to see her, or surprised to see her like this, packing. His first thought is that she's leaving Herc, and it's good he's not here to see it, but the thought dies of its own lack of logic before he can voice it. Small blessings.

Alistair pushes the tent flap further open. Max is with him, pushing past his legs now while he unconsciously straightens up and sucks in his stomach. (It's half because she's pretty, half because she carries herself with a nobility that reminds him of Anora. Isolde.) He clears his throat.

"I hope you know how to handle a mabari."