Lukas holds up a finger of mildly drunken wisdom. "Oh no, my friend, a party loves a sufficiently dashing stranger. Of course I cannot expect anyone in Ferelden to know that, considering that you would not know dashing if it charged you like an angry bear, but - "

He trails off in mild confusion as Alan goes for the chestnuts without waiting for his response. But perhaps his magnanimity is expected not to end with the beer. That's acceptable. He nods encouragement.

"Go on. I'm sure it's no Orlesian quality, but - where did you happen to eat party food in Orlais?" No offence to Alan, but he does not exactly look the type to enjoy an Orlesian party. Or be let in.