As the crew dispersed and Zevran took his leave of them he could not shake the sensation of being watched- such a thing is familiar enough to most elves but to an assassin? It is an itch under the skin, meant to keep them alive. Curious and concerned he casually collected his gear and turned to check his surroundings...and found a familiar face above an armfull of linens.

Time being as it is it took a moment for the name to click- but once it did his smile was broad and his demeanor brightened. "Merrill? Ah, who else but a bubbling image of Dalish Loveliness. How have you been?"