She turns her smile down at the counter in front of her the moment he mentions Tevinter. She's gotten good at managing her body language, and her voice obeys her, but her face always betrays her emotions; she can't count that her smile won't harden, that her anger won't show. So she makes as though she's scrubbing at some spot on the counter, and stares down hard at it, and conceals her expression.

You'd have been as wretched in Tevinter as elsewhere, apostate. It just would have been a different sort of wretchedness. It's little better being part of wickedness than it is being victim to it.

"Surface dwarf," she lies cheerfully, still scrubbing at that invisible spot. "Born out in Ferelden. I've been traveling a while, but - you know. War. In times like these, it's better to find good, strong walls to huddle behind than it is to be a small girl with a small pony and a small cart in a very murder-y sort of landscape."

Then she looks up. Her face is composed - she looks curious, and nothing more.

"I know that this is sort of a personal question, but - I'm nosy. Can I ask what drove you from the Circle?" Since it sounds from his phrasing that he'd once been part of one - the Circle chases its own, after all.