Cullen sits heavily and immediately starts to dig into his food. He has taken few breaks since this all started and doesn't always remember to eat. It has him ravenous when he does. He has downed several bites and washed it down before he tries to speak again at all.

"I have to admit I'm a little surprised you're still with us. I'm not saying that because you're a Tevinter or a mage. It's...I wouldn't expect anyone not a Marcher or not invested in Marcher politics to be here now." The conditions are terrible and not getting much better. They're finding far fewer living now. The stench of the dead at times overpowers the stench of the chokedamp that wafts up from Darktown.

"How long do you think you'll stay?" He knows he can't expect him to be here forever. He is bound to have other business, a life outside of Kirkwall's ongoing crisis. He'll miss his competence. He knows this already.