“I’m not sure. My friend was a tiefling before we arrived here -- a horned humanoid creature similar to your Qunari,” he takes the wine bottle back, and also drinks, jaw grit harsh against the taste. “More colorful. He was gold, before.”

He tells her casually, and as if he expects she has no reason to care -- aware without embarrassment or apology.

“He also had a tail -- but no. I’ve never been an elf. I’m sorry. You were saying that they have their own ‘business.’”