Alistair's voice sounds only marginally less tense than when Cullen left. Drills help, but he'd probably have to drill for a week straight to get rid of all the anger.
He emerges from the hallway, kneading his palm with the pad of his thumb. His attention flicks to Cullen for a second -- just enough to quirk a tiny, halfhearted smile -- before he draws himself straighter and turns to Lavellan.
You're a soldier. Briefly, he clasps his fist at his chest. "Inquisitor."
no subject
Alistair's voice sounds only marginally less tense than when Cullen left. Drills help, but he'd probably have to drill for a week straight to get rid of all the anger.
He emerges from the hallway, kneading his palm with the pad of his thumb. His attention flicks to Cullen for a second -- just enough to quirk a tiny, halfhearted smile -- before he draws himself straighter and turns to Lavellan.
You're a soldier. Briefly, he clasps his fist at his chest. "Inquisitor."