Oh, Detlef. It would be so easy to lie. To play it down, instead of sparking her curiosity further. Her expression is deceptively apologetic as she pauses a moment before responding, as if processing his words.

"I meant no offence, only to gather a better understanding of how the Circle standards might have varied depending on location," comes the easy reply, as if his comments were nothing but water off a duck's back, as if she is content to let it go.

(She is not. She might never let anything go easily again, with how she feels these days.)

The name earns a breath of laughter, and that is sincere, even if it seems very specific.
"Well, I do not doubt she is far more adept at felling crickets than the Prince Consort." Straightening up, Leliana's smile is as relaxed and easy as is believable in someone of her rank and position.

"One of the Grey Wardens here travelled with the Hero of Ferelden, in fact." And, that reminds her. "You were in the party that rescued Zevran, weren't you?"

A little gentler, a little softer. Another brother of hers. Another dear friend, and one whose life is owed to the people who retrieved him.