"I can always count on you to do what's necessary," Alistair says, rocking sideways to companionably bump her bony shoulder with his decidedly-less-bony one. He's quiet for a moment or two, also companionably, but it gets heavier until he says, "My mother is Orlesian, so that doesn't... You know, the snail thing, maybe it's in the blood. I might be doomed." Another pause. "And she's an elf. Not that it matters. No one ever knew, they never treated me any differently, but not telling you— and Kaisa—it's starting to feel like lying, so..."

So now she's been told. He purses his lips at the fire, then does what he does best: changes the subject.

"What are you doing down here this late, anyway? Do I need to fight anyone for you?"