Whatever subtle drama plays out behind him- Zevran is unaware. It will only make the pointed commentary and looks later all the more amusing, he's certain. Footsteps and his shoulders go straighter for half a second before he places the gait.

Familiar as breathing, that stride, and the tension uncurls as though it'd never been. Alistair does not need him to be anything but himself.

"Anora might think I'm trying to flirt, an then Jonas would have to try to get one up on me." Which would be impossible but- well. Jonas. He turns his head enough to see him, really see him in the finery and moonlight and wonder again perhaps he could...but they are not that way. Alistair has a limited amount of time left. So does he, even if it seems less and less impossible with every win against Corypheus they manage. "I will take having the Empress in my back pocket and be content."