"How is she?" Offhand and easy as though he had not had a rather intense scuffle with an assassin and unearthed some delightful blackmail material for his use. As they are nearing the public quarters he pauses a moment to shift the lay of his half cape - something he'd demanded for the occasion- to cover it. If he is to be here? He shall do so in true Antivan fashion- which leaves so much room for subtle armor and knives in pockets and such.

Perfect for an assassin.

So too is his mask- a Kestrel rather than a crow but a concession to Alistair's humor.

All in all this is far better than what he might have expected. Only one woman so far has called him a rabbit and ordered him about, only to faint when he charged a standard (in Antiva) finders fee for collecting her ring. It still rests in his pocket whenever she changes her mind. Smiling sweetly and viciously to ever noble that sniffs at him or Sera or Solas or so much as glares at bull has been viscerally satisfying. This is how he plays the game. His rules, his daggers, his moves.