"Aged a- Alistair Denerim was A month ago for me! I had been asleep in a bed with lovely, grateful women assured that you yourself were enjoying much the same down the hall or- whatever it was you were doing after I left you at the celebration when I woke up here in this very fountain." He pushed Alistair's hand aside, staring up into-

A familiar face, certainly, but one that was broader. Older. Weary lines around his eyes, flecks of what might be lighter copper in his hair. A weariness, a haggared tang to him that only set in when they were in the deepest caches of the Deep Roads. "...how long has it been for you? Since our victory. How much further along are you?"

He reached up without a thought to whether or not he might be allowed (of course he would be, boundaries were for other people) to cradle Alistair's jaw.