"..." There's a muffled thud as he rests his forehead against the door, weighting his options. She would likely find out eventually whether he wished it or not and he has already kept one secret from her. After a muttered curse in Antivan Zevran unlocks the door.

"I am well, but Luciano is sleeping." Not Doghren, not Mia. He holds the door open long enough for Leliana to slip inside and the change to his quarters is probably startling.

Every knife, every garrote, every pot or wire or bit of poison, every item that hinted at his profession? Locked up somewhere else while the room is now draped with lines tacked into the wall- shirts and rags and blankets draped and drying. On the bed, bundled in furs- an elven infant. Dark of skin, fair curls, and his father's nose. "He has been for some time and will wake soon but-"

Every moment of peace he can earn? He'll take.