Thinking of Warden Lucas leads to thinking about Adamant, leads to Alistair's senses edging up toward high alert. His eyes track the crowd, neck craning to see where they've left. Nothing there, it seems.

And where they're going -- he can glimpse, just barely, what looks like half-built scaffolding.

Well. His mouth twists. Orlais does love a good, savage show as much as the rest.

Whatever. They'll be at their rooms soon, they've got the rest of the evening to themselves -- if he's holding Cullen's hand a little more tightly than previous, what of it?