For most of those words, Alistair has his head tilted back and his tankard to his mouth, waiting patiently for the porridge to reach him. It has the added benefit of hiding his skeptical asymmetrical squint. But he's charmed, too. He lowers the cup and slowly swallows his mouthful of oats and loses the fight against a one-sided almost-smile.

"A little."

To be good at something is to enjoy it, and Grey Wardens are good at it. Even new ones.

"They wouldn't have called us down here for two," he says. "They'd have dropped some rocks on them or something and called it a day."