"Something you have in common," he says, the tone faintly teasing. In increments some of his better humor from before is starting to return. He's still feeling more cautious and wary than before, something he wants to bridge and isn't certain how.

"Of course you don't. You're not Fereldan." He shakes his head. No, he'd never expect a foreigner, any foreigner, truly to understand the deep bond his countrymen have with their dogs or what they mean to them. More than almost any other strange affectation of the Marchers, the realization that they didn't view dogs the same way, that no one else did, had been the biggest culture shock of all.

"You have changed my view. At least of some Tevinters. It's encouraging to know that there are some quarters that see blood magic much the way we do down here."