"I can't help it," Alistair says. That isn't completely true. He can control his face by emptying it of anything at all, stand there looking blank and stupid, but then Zevran will know, anyway, that Alistair's eyebrows are sad in his heart. Zevran can do masks. That's usually aggravating, but in this case, maybe good. No sad eyes.

Possibly-sad hair petting, on the other hand, is fine. Alistair wrinkles his nose for a moment, like a child having its face cleaned, but at the same time he's leaning into it. Like a dog.

"What does it prove?"