"He sounds like a lovely young man. I wonder who Morrigan stole him from." She laughed, and stood up, stretching. "No--I knew she had it in her. Don't tell her I said that. Let her pretend to be a wicked witch of the wilds still." A lovely young man. It tore into her, but she was good at hiding wounds. She'll brood over it at another time. "Unless she comes here. Maker forbid. She'd be killed by these chumps within a day for seditious behavior."

She paused, throwing her cup into the trash.

"I'm sorry to keep changing the subject," She started, which showed slightly more consideration than when she first came, and hammered Cullen with eighty questions ranging every which way. "But we'll have to talk to Bayard before the arena. He doesn't know what happens, but. He'll see the cornucopia. What can we tell him? Close his eyes and ignore the screams? We're going to have to...Explain things."