He ducked his head slightly for the compliment. "It's kind of you to say." It was strange to realize he had become more accustomed to criticism than praise since coming to the Marches, at least when it came from outside the order.

"No, I wasn't. I regret that it took us so long to break through." It had been an unbelievably tense night, wondering what they'd find when they finally breached the keep's defenses, whether it would be a room of dead Marchers and enraged Qunari or disaster averted. He was infinitely glad of the latter and wouldn't have cared had she accomplished it wearing a jester's suit.

"Ah, yes. Things," he said knowingly, his smile in his voice.

In the second breath he was more serious. "I'm not in touch with anyone from Ferelden anymore. It's...discouraged. Maybe not as strongly as for the Wardens, but it is. As for vacation, I wouldn't know what to do with myself. I guess I have things here, too." Primarily, he was concerned about Meredith's ratcheting up the rhetoric and harsh measures even by her standards. He assumed it was stress. If there was anything he could do to ease it, he intended to. If he left Kirkwall and came back to Orsino hanging in the Gallows courtyard or worse, he didn't think he'd ever forgive himself.