[ Anyone can argue there's terrible people no matter the place. Yes, quite a lot of them have made a home for themselves in Tevinter. Dorian wouldn't really argue that. But, he knows there's good people there. They may be few, but they are legion. Or will be soon enough. Terrible people live in Ferelden. Maker knows there are horrible people in Orlais. Dorian will argue until his dying breath that Tevinter can be restored to a glory it deserves, not one built upon the backs and blood of slaves and innocents.

This is such a morose topic for this time of night. Which, as it happens, is Dorian's Prime Time™ to allow his thoughts to travel to places they shouldn't be traveling. Though he hates doing it to himself, it's a habit he hasn't quite broken. Apparently. Time to move on.

So, he smiles again, brows raised high on his forehead and amusement twisting so easily in his words. ]

I imagine not. A pariah, a Dalish and a Fereldan—complete with mabari in tow! Magnificent. Half would die from shock, I imagine. [ He waves his hand in the air as if to dismiss the topic entirely. ] But, hardly something conductive for a restful night's sleep. [ Then, gives a gesture toward the bottles. ] Do let me know how those work, yes? Half a dose should aid you for tonight.