The faint smile comes before he knows it's there, and by the time he realizes it, it's too late to hide it. Really, what harm is there in being open that he's glad he's here, not leaving them any time soon? It's not as though it's knowledge Dorian would abuse or use to a bad turn.

He regards him over the rim of his tea cup when he takes another sip. It's not until after another thoughtful nibble of cookie that he speaks again. "It's ignorance," he says quietly. "If they knew how much you've done..." He sighs, his shoulders sagging slightly, and shakes his head. "Realistically, not much would change. These Marchers are such a stubborn lot. They still hate Fereldans when we've been fighting to rebuild their damned city as hard as anyone."

His cup lightly clinks his saucer when he sets it down again. "Some know the truth." It's as close as he'll get to gratitude again, since he knows anything more open will just earn scoffing discomfort.