Teren narrows her eyes, considering the question at face value, even if it was asked in jest. "That all depends," she asks, still lightly twisting the strand of hair between her thumb and forefinger, "how much older than you is he?" Or, 'how soon until a convenient death of old age becomes feasible'? "What a scandal." She tucks the strand back amidst its fellows and pats it lightly as she draws her hand away.

"There isn't enough wine in Thedas to make this night bearable."