The Inquisition is full of big damn heroes, and Zevran is beloved. They could probably step back through the gates and shout at the courtyard and have a small army in minutes--but Alistair doesn't say it like a joke. No wryness. He sounds strained: an attempt at professionalism that's stretching at the seams. He's still pale. Zevran said not to come after him, once, if something like this happened, and the possibility seemed so remote that Alistair scoffed by didn't argue.
He puts a hand on Beleth's shoulder and squeezes--gentler than the manly shoulder-clap or back-slap he'd give someone of greater stature, but the intent is the same. Good job, and thank you.
"We'll need a healer," he adds, in the same tone. He doesn't know any who like him.
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The Inquisition is full of big damn heroes, and Zevran is beloved. They could probably step back through the gates and shout at the courtyard and have a small army in minutes--but Alistair doesn't say it like a joke. No wryness. He sounds strained: an attempt at professionalism that's stretching at the seams. He's still pale. Zevran said not to come after him, once, if something like this happened, and the possibility seemed so remote that Alistair scoffed by didn't argue.
He puts a hand on Beleth's shoulder and squeezes--gentler than the manly shoulder-clap or back-slap he'd give someone of greater stature, but the intent is the same. Good job, and thank you.
"We'll need a healer," he adds, in the same tone. He doesn't know any who like him.