Soon enough, everything's back where it belongs. Alistair pulls on a clean pair of trousers; washes his face; considers his reflection (exhausted, eyes red, hair a mess) before picking up his razor.

Not like he's planning to go out today, but maybe he'll feel better if he goes through the motions of being presentable.

He's starting to feel less like he's giving Cullen space and more like a prisoner. Very, very quietly, Alistair eases open the bedroom door a crack to peer into the main room.




That...is a lot of cloth.