Cullen rolls his eyes. It's only because there are witnesses he's not stooping to grasp a handful of sand and fling it at him for that. So he can give as good as he gets. It's something to keep in mind for future conversations.

His mild pique doesn't last for too long and is driven away by the sight of the ferry sails. "There's our ride," he says entirely too cheerfully. Everyone lines up and waits for the prow to slide smoothly up against the beach before boarding. Cullen settles himself midway. He finds that spot to have the least overall movement. He lifts his face to the salt air and squints against the glint of sunlight on water. It would be more beautiful without damaged Kirkwall looming ahead of them and an empty spot in the sky line where the Chantry once stood.

Once they hit the Gallows docks, he takes Dorian aside for just a moment to murmur, "Seven thirty for tea. I'll see you then."

He has several things to attend before he'll have some free time. It's nice to have socializing to look forward to. He contemplates breaking out his chess set. Either way, he anticipates a decent time of it and approaches his paperwork with less resignation than most days.