"Mages get treated better here than anywhere else I've ever seen." That's a lie - Kitty knows very intimately well just how mages get treated up in Tevinter, after all - but it's not a big one. All her other travels, through all those other lands, have shown just how wretchedly they're treated elsewhere. And she wishes she had any idea which way of doing things was worse. Some days, she thinks it'd be easier just to burn everything, all governments everywhere, to the ground and see what would happen if they all started from scratch.

She's a small girl even by dwarf standards, so she has to step up on a few boxes stacked behind the bar to deposit the bowl of stew in front of the scruffy-looking mage. Her eyes study him closely, with interest. They get a lot of miserable-looking people here in the tavern, but he's amongst the most miserable-looking of all. It kindles a little bit of compassion in her; she turns and pours a tankard of ale for him, unbidden.

"They have a voice. Representation. And they get listened to. It's not like that sort of thing they'll do sometimes, where they'll pretend to hear you and then just go and do their own thing. The leadership really pays them heed." As she turns back to him, and climbs up on her boxes again to give him his ale, Kitty asks, "Are you going to be staying on?"