"Disorienting is the least you could say," he says, agreeing in his own way, which is less snide than it would have been had he not been spending time around Hawke again lately. "There is a woman called Kate Kelly who often looks after the tavern, but I don't know where she is. People seem to come and go."

He pauses for a moment, caught as he is invading the tavern's kitchen with a glass of water in his hand. Once, there'd been a time when he'd broken into kitchens to steal food, because it was steal food or survive, but there's a respectability -- albeit tenuous, coming hand in hand with notoriety -- in being one of Hawke's companions that had given him some coin along with something more than just the marked status of runaway slave. He hadn't had to steal food for a long time before he found himself here.

He supposes, though, that he wouldn't actually have to run for it, here, on being discovered. He's well aware that people are welcomed to meals here, regardless of who they are or of any ability to pay, since currency is hardly a consideration here. Many things he's used to are not considerations here, but one thing is, and that is where a person is from, and for all he can tell little about her in the plain clothes their captors put people in, he can hear something.

"You sound Fereldan."