He snickers, nudges Cullen gently with his elbow, and stretches out his legs. Alistair's quiet, then, for a time.

Something to do that isn't just pacing around the fortress. Maybe he could do more to help the Inquisition aside from the occasional consultation. Surely he could put the insomnia and nervous energy to good use somewhere, assisting in any of the hundreds of mundane tasks that go into maintaining a fortress. Or spend some time in the library, perhaps. Read up on chess. Pass along a few books to Kieran, if he's interested.

(He's picked up the idle fidgeting again, this time tapping his fingers against his knee at an increasingly rapid pace.)