If he wanted to be selfish, it would be so easy. He could voice agreement; demand to take up every inch of the little space they have here, to make up for all the times he's had to shrink himself smaller to make room for the Inquisition. If he were colder, maybe. Crueler. If he weren't, in his own ways, inclined toward service as well.

He can't do that to Cullen.

"We'll have other days together," says Alistair, softly. "And they'll be better, for me knowing what you want. What you need from me.
All right?"