Exactly the right thing to say, exactly the right expression to say it with. Any lingering moodiness clears from Alistair's face like it was only smoke instead of a storm cloud. Which is not the case. Unchecked he could totally have thundered about for weeks.

"Are you sure?" he says anyway, milking it, drumming his fingers lightly on Zevran's back. "Because I can grow a mustache if I need to. It comes in thick enough now."