Cullen shakes his head a little and doesn't reply.

It's not -- Alistair isn't getting it. There's a price to pay for safety, Cullen is trying his best to pay it, the least Alistair can do is just shut up and take it.

If it weren't for the fact that he's been soaked through to the bone for longer than he cares to think about, Cullen would go.

As is, he reaches into an interior pocket of his coat, pulls out the small oilcloth-wrapped bundle of stale bread and dried apple and cheese, and rolls it in Alistair's direction.