"Oh." Her indignance softens off, her back straightens again, and it is something like like the Leliana of old and closer to the Nightingale once more. Still, the Nightingale holding a baby and playing with him is perhaps never going to be so much the Nightingale that people see day to day. There are vestiges of who she used to be that she cannot shake off, for all that she denies them.

Still, the thought of Sten and Oghren wins something more from her - not quite a laugh, nor a smile, but something. A lightness. "Do you remember how Sten would stop to smell flowers, when he thought no one was looking?"