She is, for the record, most happy to indulge the line of his conversation. In fact, by the time they reach the quarters in question she has asked perhaps only half of her follow up questions with respect to Loxley and werewolves and the mechanics of suppressing curses. But there she hesitates as if suffering under an entirely different sorcery which keeps her temporarily from actually passing across the threshold, through the door he is so generously holding open for her, and into the dark room (where two men sleep) beyond.

"It will be two years come Kingsway."

The toes of her smart leather boots with the floral patterning and the ribbon ties are just barely past the boundary between hall and quarters. For a moment, her hands float up about her middle, the nail of her thumb threatening to pick absently at some cuticle on her other hand.

And then she steps forward, as she has already made the most prudent decision with respect to the locale of this meeting and it would be ridiculous to change her mind now on the basis that she has never stood in a man's room before.

(Byerly's doesn't count. He was practically dead at the time.)

"Mr. Loxley and yourself arrived at the same time, didn't you? That's very odd, you know. Even Mr. Stark and Mr. Fitz and Mr. Fitz's associate all came through to Thedas at different times. I don't know that I've ever known two people from the same place who were so familiar to each other to come together as a pair."