Morrigan's in the garden, as always She's donned a coat in grudging deference to the weather. Alistair's boots crunch in the fresh snow as he walks toward her; she regards his approach, cool as always. Alistair.

Morrigan. He stops some feet from her. Kneads his left palm with his other thumb. I...heard some of what happened. Are you all right?

She makes a light scoffing sound and looks away. T'is none of your concern. Don't trouble yourself.

Alistair heaves a sigh and drops his hands. Right, yes. My mistake. Next time I'll divert all that pesky concern to someone who deserves it.

He starts to turn. He gets three steps before Morrigan says behind him, Kieran was glad for your company while I was away.

Alistair freezes. After a moment, he looks back. Morrigan's face is unreadable; she inclines her head, very slightly.

We should talk about that, he blurts before he can lose his nerve.

Yes. I agree. Her gaze shifts, indicating the garden; empty though it may be, it's still wide open to any passerby. Another time, perhaps.

He nods. (Makes himself nod.) He retraces the path of his bootprints out of the garden, hunched against the cold.