Cullen makes a small sound, not quite enough breath behind it for a laugh. He doesn't look amused. "All right." He relents, because what else can he do without making him much more uncomfortable? The downcast gaze and rushed sentences are so strongly at odds with the usual show of confidence that he doesn't dare prod what has to be a very sore spot.

He lets the silence settle and watches the shifting surface of his tea while he continues the slow half spin of the cup back and forth. "It is foolishness," he says presently, looking at him again.

"Noble, stupid foolishness to throw in with our lot. Many would argue we made our bed, and we ought to lie in it. Few would look beyond the surface or see anything worth saving. I stopped questioning your motives some time ago. Whatever they are, you fit here. You do, and if I and the mages are the only ones who see it then more's the pity for the rest of Kirkwall and my people. I can try to lead them to water. I can't make them drink it."