(Fiona's grip tenses on her teacup at the unexpected nickname; she forcibly relaxes half a beat later.)

That smile chases off another handful of Alistair's nerves. He finds himself mirroring it -- and wishing, for a fierce but fleeting moment, that he could wrap his arms around Cullen and just stay there, ignoring their guests for the entire rest of the day. Or just a couple hours, maybe. Enough for him to regain his footing as they face whatever Fiona will say.

"All right," he says. "Thank you."