Alistair takes Cullen's hand after a moment -- and frowns, a little, as he feels the dents along its side. With great care, he runs his thumb along them, silently acknowledging their existence.

Not so much of a lie-down at all, then. Maker.

(I should have been here, he thinks, and brushes the thought aside. Being here would've meant going against Cullen's explicitly stated wishes. His absence wasn't a failure.)