If only he'd been half as prepared while running away as she is here. Granted, he'd at least taken some supplies most of his escape attempts, minus the one where he'd simply jumped into the lake, but it's nothing like her set up.

Anders murmurs a thanks as she hands over the food, more listening to what she's saying. Necromancer. Now that's interesting. He's never really spoken to one before. They're not really... the sort of practitioners he's ever had much in common with. But the name of her tentmate gets a raised eyebrow and a slightly amused look on Anders' face.

"As in the Alistair? The one who was companion to the Hero of Ferelden?" Templar hobbyist would be a suitable description, certainly. But he'd heard fond stories from Cousland, and seen the man in action, which makes it a little difficult to call him thoroughly useless.

"He's decent enough in a fight." There's a pause. "When he's not walking into a trap. And dispelling the barrier I've just put up over the group. And glaring at everyone. I... go ahead and take back that. He didn't seem an idiot, at least. And I'll allow that perhaps he was preoccupied. If one of my... if someone I'd traveled with for a time was taken, I'd be upset as well."