The Dragon scowls into his modest feast, and makes a show of taking his time finishing that very last bite and elegantly mopping his face with a conjured kerchief before affording this unexpected 'guest' a look of dire scrutiny. It is instances like this that he sorely wished to find himself another isolated tower from which to observe the city. At least from a tower, he could exert control over whether or not he allowed the doors to unlock for unwanted guests (even if he just used a traditional lock and key). Here, he just didn't have the energy to spare to brace the doors with his magic. How annoying!

"This late?" Somewhat incredulous.

Though frankly, even on a well-rested evening, he would feel inconvenienced by the interruption. He shoots his time-keeper, a trickling hourglass, a dour, almost plaintive look. He pushes his silver charger aside and braces himself against the lab table, regarding the intruder impatiently.

"Fine, let's get this done," in a sighing tone that implies this better be eminently urgent. Fire-heart-is-running-unrestrained-throughout-Kirkwall sort of urgent. This woman certainly did not strike him as a typical fool, so there may be substance behind her sudden appearance (were those bruises at her jaw? Yes, with a closer peer, he recognizes that it's not a trick of the shadows, and his frown deepens)... but he cannot help but have his doubts, considering he is a relative newcomer to the Inquisition and to the Gallows. "If you've bothered to come at this asinine hour, then you want something. What is it?"