"Messere Connell, he gets wandering. There's eyes on him most days, but... 's a lot. Dunno what year it is. Asks after his wife."

He nods to the wheelbarrow, fishes a handkerchief to offer. Gratitude, maybe, or only a working nose. Cities stink. Their gardens do. Sometimes it's nice to suck in a breath without swallowing flies.

"Been trying to think what Riftwatch can do, that someone else couldn't." Pull a sword, set some fireworks off, evade arrest: These are the things that he doesn't suggest. "Easier for us t'move around, get aught heard."

It's not only them. Chantry does good work down here. It's just that lately, robes in the Alienage send his head a little funny, a little too hot.