It takes him a moment, first to realize Zevran isn't talking about a literal border and then to remember where he's heard that phrasing before, and then he huff a single ha while his focus returns to the basin.

"Well, now I've been to Orlais," obviously, "the Anderfels, the Marches, Nevarra, Rivain, Antiva--" In all cases spending most of his time underground, but it counts. "--so it was this or Tevinter."

He rubs water on his neck. Again. It's already clean. But he's never liked this--the aftermath of sleeping with strangers, even women, even with less abortive and embarrassing ends. Too much like what he imagines his father was like.