"Maker's breath, Cullen." He remembers the man's name from their previous conversation -- a fellow Templar (er, kind of.) was someone that Alistair did not want to see on the opposing team. A familiar face causes Alistair to lower his blade, tip of the metal resting lightly against the floor.

"Is it that apparent?" He chuckles, looking off to the side, almost embarrassed that he's seen through by the other. "Back when I ran alongside Tabris, I swung around this large kite shield. Of course, I suppose they took it from me when I was taken."

Albeit he doesn't inform the other that he did, in fact, wield Duncan's shield in memoriam of the deceased Warden-Commander, but the expression on his face should indicate that there was a connection between him and the kite shield. Digressing, Alistair sighs, stretching out his back as he walks to the left of the room, crinkling his nose at the popping he elicited from his back.

"I wasn't aware that other people trained so early. I figured most everyone else would be sleeping still."