Tilting his head, Solas glances over and watches the younger man, curious for a moment. He's clearly Tevinter - enough time spent with Dorian Pavus would make anyone an expert in spotting that type - and for a moment he's loathe to give anything away. For now, however, there is little that he can do with the admission and Solas allows himself the quiet confidence to admit his talent.

"Rift magic," he says.