"Nno," Alistair says first. He isn't quite talking to her, and he isn't quite awake. That happens a second later: he jerks upright, palms falling flat on the table. Ready to fight, for a moment, but the moment passes when he remembers where he is.

He blinks a couple times. The words sink in. He frowns down at his bowl of stew, then smiles up at the qunari. It's a sleepy smile, and a hopeful one. Maybe he can talk his way out of feeling foolish.

"You don't think I could pull it off? I think I'd look dashing."

Covered in stew. Right.

"And delicious."