She evinces some disbelief that isn’t so much politely mild as it is sleepy, and decides that prudence dictates the knife remain in play. It’d be great if she were doing this well-rested and after coffee, but since she isn’t—

“Mate, you and most of the rest of Tevinter.” This is less an answer than it is buying her time to wake up enough to do more with the pieces of this over-large jigsaw puzzle than just bang them together,

it would be an inspired method of espionage. Element of surprise and all. Seems unlikely.

She hauls herself into a proper sitting position, her bedding at her waist and the shirt she’d gone to sleep in decent enough to make conversation in because you never know when you’re going to have to wake up suddenly and pull a knife on a stranger in the dead of night. There’s a cold lamp in the center of the tent and she lights it with a gesture for a better look at her inquirer, less worried about offering him the same benefit in return. People have a tendency to underestimate her for her size.

And the prospect of the Tevene situation being bad enough among their own to have defectors cold calling— interesting.

“First off, it frowns on whatever the fuck this is.”