Alistair/Dialogue

Alistair and Wynne

 * Alistair: Why are you smiling like that? You look suspiciously like the cat who swallowed the pigeon.
 * Wynne: Canary.
 * Alistair: What?
 * Wynne: I look like the cat that swallowed the canary.
 * Alistair: I once had a very large cat, but that's not my point. My point is why are you smirking?
 * Wynne: (Chuckles) You were watching her. With great interest, I might add. In fact, I believe you were...enraptured.
 * Alistair: She's our leader. I look to her for guidance.
 * Wynne: Oh, I see. So what guidance did you find in those swaying hips hmm?
 * Alistair: No no no, I wasn't looking at...you know her...hind-quarters
 * Wynne: Certainly.
 * Alistair: I gazed...glanced, in that direction, maybe, but I wasn't staring...or really seeing anything even.
 * Wynne: Of course.
 * Alistair: I hate you. You're a bad person.


 * Wynne: Alistair, may I have a word?
 * Alistair: Of course, anything for my favouritest mage ever.
 * Wynne: It seems you and our fearless leader are inseparable these days. Joined at the hip, almost.
 * Alistair: That's a bit of an overstatement, don't you think?
 * Wynne: Well then, now that you're in an intimate relationship, you should learn about where babies really come from.
 * Alistair: Pardon?
 * Wynne: I know the Chantry says you dream about your babies and the good Fade spirits take them out of the Fade and leave them in your arms...but that's not true. Actually what happens is that when a girl and a boy really love each other --
 * Alistair: Andraste's flaming sword! I know where babies come from!
 * Wynne: Do you? Do you really?
 * Alistair: I certainly hope so.
 * Wynne: Oh, all right then. Aww, look, you're all red and mottled. How cute.
 * Alistair: You did that on purpose!
 * Wynne: Now, now Alistair, why would I do such a thing?
 * Alistair: Because you're wicked. That frail old lady act? I'm so not fooled. I'm on to you now.


 * Alistair: You know, of all the mages I've met you have to be the first one I can honestly say I've really liked.
 * Wynne: Why thank you, Alistair. I am quite touched. I like you, too, Alistair. I imagine my son would have grown up to be someone like you.
 * Alistair: Your son? I thought you said you were never married?
 * Wynne: That's true. I never have been.
 * Alistair: I... oh. Then this wasn't... before you joined the circle?
 * Wynne: I joined the Circle at the age of nine. So, no. Do you still like me?
 * Alistair: Err... yes? Why wouldn't I?
 * Wynne: Good. it appears you got away from the Chantry just in time.


 * Alistair: So you... mentioned you had a son? What happened to him?
 * Wynne: I honestly don't know, Alistair. He was... taken from me. Such births are seldom, as there are ways to prevent it, but it does happen. And any child born to a Circle mage belongs to the Chantry.
 * Alistair: I... didn't know. I'm sorry.
 * Wynne: It's all right. It was a long time ago. A very long time ago.
 * Alistair: Couldn't you do something about it?
 * Wynne: Do what? I was weak from the birthing process and there were... no, there was nothing I could do.
 * Alistair: Do you think about him?
 * Wynne: All the time.


 * Wynne: I think you make her very happy.
 * Alistair: Not this again. I'm ready this time.
 * Wynne: I just wanted to say that this was something good, for both of you. Being a Grey Warden isn't easy. I'm glad you found each other.
 * Alistair: Oh, yes, I bet you are, indeed.
 * Wynne: Cherish this. It may not last.
 * Alistair: And?
 * Wynne: That's all I had to say.
 * Alistair: Really? No pinching my cheeks? No making me blush?
 * Wynne: Of course not. I like you, Alistair. You deserve to be happy.
 * Alistair: Not even pinching my cheeks a little?


 * Wynne: Alistair, what's this?
 * Alistair: It's a sock?
 * Wynne: It's a filthy sock. How did it find its way to my bedroll?
 * Alistair: Maybe it likes you? Socks are sneaky like that. Anyway, it's not mine.
 * Wynne: It has your name stitched on it.
 * Alistair: Oh. Ha, ha. Ha. Part of templar training, back at the Chantry. The men were... always getting their socks mixed up. Anyway, uh, sorry about that. i'll take it from you right now. One of my socks is feeling a little damp anyway. A change would be nice.
 * Wynne: You're going to put it on? It's filthy!
 * Alistair: And dry. We're not exactly traveling in the lap of luxury, here.
 * Wynne: What hideous habits you've picked up.


 * Wynne: Did you speak often with Cailan?
 * Alistair: You're asking me if I have a relationship with my "brother", aren't you?
 * Wynne: Yes. I wonder what he thought of you.
 * Alistair: I don't think he cared much about my existance. I didn't mean anything to him. Anyway, to answer your original question, no, we never spoke. Well, maybe once. Maric and Cailan had come to Redcliffe to visit the arl. I was very young then. We were introduced. I believe I said, "Greetings, your Highness." He said, "Ooh! Swords!" and ran off to the armory. So, yes, that was the extent of our relationship. We drifted apart after that. Very sad.


 * Alistair: Wynne?
 * Wynne: Yes, Alistair?
 * Alistair: My shirt has a hole in it.
 * Wynne: I see. And?
 * Alistair: Can you mend it? When we get back to camp?
 * Wynne: Can't you mend your own clothes? Why do I have to do it?
 * Alistair: Sometimes I pick up too much fabric and it ends up all puckered and the entire garment hangs wrong afterward. And you're... you know, grandmotherly. Grandmothers do that sort of thing, don't they? Darning socks and whatnot. You don't want me to have to fight darkspawn in a shirt with a hole, do you? It might get bigger. I might catch cold.
 * Wynne: Oh, all right. I'll mend your shirt the next time we set up camp.
 * Alistair: Ooh! And whie you're at it, the elbows kind of need patching too...
 * Wynne: Careful, young man, or puckered garments may be the least of your problems.


 * Alistair: Ow.
 * Wynne: What? Stop fussing with it. You'll make it worse.
 * Alistair: It itches.
 * Wynne: Yes, it's healing. Don't touch it.
 * Alistair: But it's distracting. Can I rub it through the bandage? That's not really scratching.
 * Wynne: Alistair, if you open that wound up, I'm not going to heal it again. You can just treat it yourself. And if it festers, weeping bloody pus and burns like the flames of Andraste's pyre, don't come to me. All I'm going to say is: "Alistair, didn't I tell you not to touch it?"
 * Alistair: It won't really fester, will it?
 * Wynne: Why don't you try scratching and see?
 * Alistair: I... uh, I guess it doesn't itch so much now.

Alistair and Morrigan

 * Alistair: "Why do you always go on about how stupid I am? I'm not stupid, am I?"
 * Morrigan: "If you need to ask the question..."
 * Alistair: "Because it hurts my manly feelings you know. All one of them."
 * Morrigan: "Then I'll be sure to write you an apology once all of this is over."
 * Alistair: "I was educated by the Chantry. I studied history. They don't make stupid templars."
 * Morrigan: "Then I must have been mistaken. I'm very impressed."
 * Alistair: "No you're not. You're not even listening to me."
 * Morrigan: "My, you are smarter than you look after all. Your Chantry must have been very proud!"


 * Alistair: "Soldier's Peak. Looks like it's seen better days. Better centuries more like."
 * Morrigan: "Once the Wardens flourished, their ranks full, their calibre certain. Now they even accept people like you, Alistair."
 * Alistair: "Hey!"


 * Morrigan: So you met this sibling of yours?
 * Alistair: Half-sister, but yes.
 * Morrigan: And she turned out to be an insufferable hag?
 * Alistair: You'd have liked her. You two have a lot in common.
 * Morrigan: And you let her berate you? Without punishment?
 * Alistair: It's moments like this when I truly appreciate the difference between you and me.
 * Morrigan: (Scoffs) 'Tis moments like this when I truly wonder at the difference between you and a toadstool.


 * Alistair: So tell me, was the Tower of Magi everything you thought it would be?
 * Morrigan: Abominations running rampant? Templars ready to slaughter every mage in sight? Yes, it rather met all my expectations.
 * Alistair: You don't think you might have been better off getting your training there? Instead of whatever your mother taught you?
 * Morrigan: You're right. My mother didn't nearly have as many abominations running about. That certainly would have improved my education.
 * Alistair: Hmm. I'll give you that one.
 * Morrigan: I'm so relieved.


 * Alistair: All right. I've come up with one, a question that you can't answer.
 * Morrigan: Are you talking to me?
 * Alistair: That's right. You think you're so smart? I've got an academic question that I bet you won't be able to answer.
 * Morrigan: Oh, I doubt that.
 * Alistair: So tell me, then: what was the name of Andraste's husband?
 * Morrigan: This is a religious question, not an academic one.
 * Alistair: You're joking, right? A five year-old could answer that question. Do you not know more than a child?
 * Morrigan: I care nothing for your religion. And this game of yours is over.
 * Alistair: Oh, how the mighty have crumbled.


 * Morrigan: Have a care where your eyes linger, Alistair.
 * Alistair: Yes, well don't worry. It's not what you think.
 * Morrigan: I see.
 * Alistair: I was looking at your nose.
 * Morrigan: And what is it about my nose that captivates you so?
 * Alistair: I was just thinking that it looks exactly like your mother's.
 * Morrigan: I hate you so much.
 * Alistair: What?
 * Morrigan: Never mind.


 * Morrigan: You... do not truly think I look as my mother does, do you?
 * Alistair: Have you really been thinking about that all this time?
 * Morrigan: I am simply curious.
 * Alistair: And not insecure in the slightest, I'm sure.
 * Morrigan: I think I look nothing like her.
 * Alistair: I don't know. Give it a few hundred years and it'll be a spot-on match.
 * Morrigan: I said that I look nothing like her!
 * Alistair: All right. Got it. Totally different. I see that now.

Alistair and Leliana

 * Leliana: What was that... soup you made for supper last night?
 * Alistair: Ooh, that? That's a traditional Fereldan lamb and pea stew. Did you like it?
 * Leliana: Oh, so... it was lamb then? It had a certain... texture I don't normally associate with lamb.
 * Alistair: They didn't make lamb and pea stew for you in Lothering?
 * Leliana: We ate simply there. Whole grains, made into biscuits or bread, and vegetables from the garden, cooked lightly. No heavy stews.
 * Alistair: Ah, so the last lamb you had was probably cooked Orlesian style. Food shouldn't be frilly and pretentious like that. Now here in Ferelden, we do things right. We take our ingredients, throw them into the largest pot we can find, and cook them for as long as possible until everything is a uniform grey color. As soon as it looks completely bland and unappetizing, that's when I know it's done.
 * Leliana: You're having me on.
 * Alistair: (Laughs) You need to eat in more Fereldan inns.

Alistair and Oghren

 * Oghren: So. With the boss, aye?
 * Alistair: Pardon?
 * Oghren: You and the boss. Rolling your oats.
 * Alistair: I don't know--
 * Oghren: Polishing the footstones.
 * Alistair: --what you're--
 * Oghren: Tapping the midnight still, if you will.
 * Alistair: what are you going on about?
 * Oghren: Forging the moaning statue. Bucking the forbidden horse. Donning the velvet hat.
 * Alistair: Are you just making these up right now?
 * Oghren: Nope. Been saving 'em.


 * Oghren: You know what would do you some good?
 * Alistair: A pair of nose plugs?
 * Oghren: Go out, find a girl. Doesn't matter who, as long as there's no pants involved.
 * Alistair: What makes you think I haven't?
 * Oghren: I can smell purity a mile away. It's a talent.
 * Alistair: That proves to be useful, I'm sure.
 * Oghren: Not that often, it turns out. Be much better if I could smell cheese.
 * Alistair: You have my deepest condolences.
 * Oghren: Yep. So do you.


 * Oghren: So, uh, what did you do with her legs?
 * Alistair: Whose legs?
 * Oghren: Her legs. That's the problem with dwarven legs. They're useless as an accessory.
 * Alistair: I didn't do anything with them. I don't know what--
 * Oghren: Ah, say no more. Just got 'em outta the way and went about your business. Good on you, son.
 * Alistair: Uhm. Thanks.


 * Alistair: So you and Branka were really married?
 * Oghren: Tell you what, boy: you ever been married?
 * Alistair: Of course not. I was raised in the Chantry.
 * Oghren: Thank the hardest stone you can find. Marriage is for suckers.
 * Alistair: So no pitter-patter of little Oghren feet running around the home cave, I take it?
 * Oghren: All I ever got out of that moss-licker was a headache, a deaf ear, a scratched-up back and that rash it took three different ointments to get rid of.
 * Alistair: Wow, she gave up on you, did she? And here you are, a keeper, too.


 * Alistair: What? You're... you're drunk, aren't you?
 * Oghren: Eh? Was that a question? It didn't sound like a question.
 * Alistair: How in the Maker's name do you manage to be constantly drunk? Are we even carrying that much alcohol with us?
 * Oghren: Jealous, huh? (Laughs)
 * Alistair: A little, yes. Why can't I be drunk all the time? I never get to be drunk.
 * Oghren: You know, if you drank more wine, you would whine much less.


 * Alistair: So... that game you were playing in camp, what was that?
 * Oghren: Diamondback. You've never played Diamondback, have you?
 * Alistair: That's Diamondback? I've... heard of it. I thought it was a card game played by dwarven... er...
 * Oghren: Go on, say it. Prostitutes. It's not true, of course.
 * Alistair: It's not?
 * Oghren: Of course not. A noble hunter never charges money. Not if she wants to see him again, that is. Never saw one turn down from a gift, though.
 * Alistair: Err... what does that have to do with card games?
 * Oghren: Even a noble hunter can get bored. Tell you what, don't ever bet your clothes. They'll strip you clean and leave you naked in the street, trust me.
 * Alistair: I'll... take your word on it.


 * Oghren: Ah. Yep. Lot of tension around here.
 * Alistair: You think so, do you?
 * Oghren: Know what I do to relieve tension?
 * Alistair: I hesitate to wonder.
 * Oghren: I polish the ol' weapon.
 * Alistair: Really.
 * Oghren: Yep. Give it a good shine. With a dry rag, then with a little grease.
 * Alistair: That's disgusting.
 * Oghren: You're telling me you never gave yer blade the old spit-shine?
 * Alistair: I think that's private.
 * Oghren: Really? Sodding Chantry and its rules. i like to do it right out in the open.
 * Alistair: Where people can see you?
 * Oghren: Yep.
 * Alistair: Wait, what are you talking about?
 * Oghren: What are you talking about?
 * Alistair: (Sigh) Never mind.

Alistair and Zevran

 * Zevran: Might I offer you a bit of advice, my good friend Alistair?
 * Alistair: I like my hair the way it is, thank you.
 * Zevran: Truly? As you wish... though my advice is regarding something else completely. It has to do with your recent... exertions with your fellow Grey Warden that I overheard.
 * Alistair: My...? Oh.
 * Zevran: It did seem as if you just got going when all grew quiet. You are... feeling all right, yes? Perhaps you are tired?
 * Alistair: We aren't talking about this, are we? Did I hit my head?
 * Zevran: I have some roots from home that you may chew if you need energy. As for volume, perhaps you ought to try arching your--
 * Alistair: Whoa! Whoa! Awkward!
 * Zevran: You Fereldans are so finicky. How will you ever learn how to pleasure each other unless you talk about it?
 * Alistair: not listening! La la la la la!


 * Zevran: You know, Alistair, Antiva has a long tradition of royal bastards.
 * Alistair: You don't say?
 * Zevran: Oh, yes. They've led wars to claim the throne. Some of them have become kings. In fact, I'd say the current royal line in Antiva stems from bastard blood several times over.
 * Alistair: Well aren't you just chock full of useless trivia today.
 * Zevran: Sadly, whenever a royal bastard rears their head in public and declares themselves, it often goes poorly for them.
 * Alistair: Let me guess: they get assassinated?
 * Zevran: Only the very popular ones.
 * Alistair: And the unpopular ones?
 * Zevran: Well, they get by somehow, I'm sure. There was one fellow who did quite well working as a prostitute based on his uncanny resemblance to the king. Charged a fortune.
 * Alistair: Couldn't afford him, I take it?
 * Zevran: That cynicism will serve you well, my friend. Hold onto it.


 * Zevran: So are you a very religious man, Alistair? I am curious. I believe I heard you say you were raised in an abbey?
 * Alistair: I was raised in a castle. I was schooled in the abbey. As far as being religious... I don't know. Not especially. What about you? Not in your line of work, I expect.
 * Zeveran: Why do you say that? I happen to be quite devoted, in my way, as most Antivans are.
 * Alistair: Truly? But you kill people. For money.
 * Zeveran: And I ask forgiveness for my sins from the Maker every chance I get. What manner of monster do you think I am?
 * Alistair: But... you ask forgiveness and then you go right on with your sinning?
 * Zeveran: The Maker has never objected. Why should you?
 * Alistair: I... have no idea.
 * Zeveran: Well there you go. Perhaps you ought to think about asking for a little forgiveness yourself, hm?


 * Alistair: So I have a question for you, Zevran. You're here, at least in part, to get away from the Crows, right?
 * Zeveran: That is indeed true.
 * Alistair: So when this is over, what do you intend to do with yourself? You can't go back to Antiva, I assume.
 * Zeveran: What I do depends in large part upon your fellow Grey Warden. I am not a free man, as it were.
 * Alistair: Yes, yes, but what if you could do whatever you wanted?
 * Zeveran: Oh, I don't know. Aren't you going to be king? Perhaps you have people you need killed?
 * Alistair: I probably do, yes.
 * Zeveran: See? It's that sort of thinking that makes me thing I have a future in this fine country of yours.
 * Alistair: That's assuming I would hire you.
 * Zeveran: That's the lovely thing about kings. They make for good business, as the client or the target.
 * Alistair: And people wonder why someone might not want to be king.


 * Alistair: So why would the Crows send you, Zevran?
 * Zeveran: Is there some reason why they should not?
 * Alistair: Plenty of reasons. Starting with the fact that you weren't exactly the best they had, were you?
 * Zeveran: Slandar and lies. For shame, Alistair.
 * Alistair: I'm not an idiot. Well, not most of the time. You're no raw recruit, but I've seen you fight. You're no master of combat, by any means.
 * Zeveran: Assuming that I intended a fair fight, that would indeed be a problem.
 * Alistair: But the Crows must have master assassins, the way you describe them. Men with years and years of experience. Why not send them?
 * Zeveran: Why not, indeed? It is a mystery for the ages.
 * Alistair: Oh, I get it. You're not going to tell me.
 * Zeveran: Morrigan said you were sharp. No liar, she.


 * Zeveran: Still with the stern glances, Alistair?
 * Alistair: You didn't answer my question. About why the Crows wouldn't send their best man.
 * Zeveran: So for that I must suffer all these fearsome glares? You are cruel to subject me to such torture.
 * Alistair: If you aren't telling me, there must be a reason.
 * Zeveran: If you must know, the masters do not often take contracts outside Antiva. And I made the best bid.
 * Alistair: Best bid?
 * Zeveran: We agree to pay the guild a portion of whatever the contract offers. The one who agrees to pay the most gets the contract, so long as the guild deems them worthy.
 * Alistair: And they thought you were worthy?
 * Zeveran: Against a pair of Grey Warden recruits? Apparently so.
 * Alistair: Were there many who wanted the contract?
 * Zeveran: None. You are still Grey Wardens, after all, and even in Antiva, killing members of your order is considered... impolitic. It made the guild's decision considerably easier, I imagine.
 * Alistair: Well, that's comforting, somehow.

Alistair and Shale

 * Shale: It has become very close with the other Grey Warden
 * Alistair: Uh...yes, I suppose I have at that.
 * Shale: I find this difficult to comprehend.It is whiny and weak and constantly laughing.
 * Alistair: Then I guess a romance between you and I is completely out of the question?
 * Shale: And the attempts at humor. I cannot understand how it is endured.
 * Alistair: Well maybe you should ask her why she likes me so much instead of bothering me with it.
 * Shale: It has a loud mouth. Why its head has not been crushed already is hard to imagine.
 * Alistair: Or maybe you just happen to figure she likes me a lot more than she likes you.
 * Shale: Don't be foolish.
 * Alistair: Yes, I thought so. Just watch your step or I'm totally telling.
 * Shale: I'm going to stand over here now.


 * Shale: I find it very odd.
 * Alistair: "It" meaning me? Am I an "it," now, too? I feel honored.
 * Shale: For one who professes to be a warrior, I find it remarkably weak-willed and indecisive.
 * Alistair: Er... thank you?
 * Shale: It also likes to hide its many weaknesses behind a veil of jocularity.
 * Alistair: For a statue, you know a lot of big words.
 * Shale: Is there a reason it enjoys following others so much? Especially when it is in a position to lead?
 * Alistair: Have you ever been responsible for someone else's life? Or a lot of other lives? Or an entire nation?
 * Shale: Of course not.
 * Alistair: Then... shut... up.
 * Shale: I will remember this moment when the birds come.


 * Shale: I am told that it lost a large number of comrades in the battle with the darkspawn.
 * Alistair: Me? I guess I did, yes. I didn't know all of them that well, however. Mostly just Duncan.
 * Shale: I am unfamiliar with this name.
 * Alistair: It's... it's not important. You don't need to know who he was.
 * Shale: I cannot remember if I ever had anyone important to me. All I remember is being given orders.
 * Alistair: I would gladly be following Duncan's orders right now, if I could.
 * Shale: It enjoys following others? I find that odd.
 * Alistair: You wouldn't understand. Don't worry. I don't expect you to.


 * Alistair: So, Shale... when you were standing there all that time? Did you... sleep?
 * Shale: I have no need to sleep. My body does not tire or do -- ugh -- other flesh-related functions.
 * Alistair: But don't you get bored? Wouldn't you want to dream, at least?
 * Shale: I do not dream. This is what it does when it sleeps? It paws its nose and mumbles incoherently.
 * Alistair: Yes, of course. I thought we all -- huh... you watch me?
 * Shale: I watch all closely when they are still at night. There is little else to do.
 * Alistair: For... hours and hours?
 * Shale: I count the breaths. it helps to overcome the overwhelming urge to crush their faces while they sleep.
 * Alistair: Well. I won't be doing much of that anymore.


 * Alistair: So tell me something... do you feel pain? When you get hit in combat?
 * Shale: This is when it squeals loudly and spurts blood about? This is when it feels pain?
 * Alistair: Uh... maybe? I've seen you take some bad hits. Don't you feel anything?
 * Shale: Anger. Rage, even. Perhaps a little distress. Is this pain?
 * Alistair: I'm not sure. I don't think I'd call it distress, exactly. It's more... (screaming)
 * Shale: For me, it is more... (pained growl)
 * Alistair: That sounds more like a bowel movement. I mean that sharp, stabbing... (screams) Like that?
 * Shale: No. Nothing like that.
 * Alistair: No? Huh. Good to know.

Alistair and Sten

 * Alistair: Were you really in that cage for twenty days?
 * Sten: It might have been closer to thirty. I stopped counting after a while.
 * Alistair: What did you do? I mean... twenty days is a long time to sit in one place and do nothing.
 * Sten: On good days, I posed riddles to the passersby, offering them treasures in exchange for correct answers.
 * Alistair: Really?
 * Sten: No.
 * Alistair: Awww. Too bad. That's got serious potential.


 * Alistair: You know, you never did tell me how you passed the time in that cage for so long.
 * Sten: No, I didn't.
 * Alistair: So... what did you do in there?
 * Sten: A training exercise. I would observe an object and then try to think of all the words in your language which began with the same letter as its name.
 * Alistair: That... wait. Just wait. You're joking again, aren't you?
 * Sten: No.
 * Alistair: You are not telling me that you played, "I Spy," against yourself for twenty days.
 * Sten: There are a lot of things in Lothering that begin with, "G."


 * Alistair: Hmmm... I spy with my little eye, something that begins with... "G."
 * Sten: Is it a Grey Warden? Is it, in fact, you?
 * Ailstair: Oooh. You're really good at this.
 * Sten: (Sigh)


 * Sten: Draw your weapon.
 * Alistair: Are you talking to me?
 * Sten: Your weapon. Draw it.
 * Alistair: Why? Are we under attack?
 * Sten: I want to see what you can do.
 * Alistair: You want to fight me? Just like that?
 * Sten: You are a Grey Warden. How are you going to face an archdemon if you cannot face me?
 * Alistair: It is a mystery, I'll admit.
 * Sten: I should let your weakness damn us all? Draw your sword. I'll try not to injure you permanently.
 * Alistair: I don't have to prove anything to you. Forget it.
 * Sten: So you do have a spine. Pity you don't use it.

Alistair and Dog

 * Alistair: Just how smart are mabari supposed to be, anyway? Do you think they understand everything we say?
 * Dog: (Conversational barking)
 * Alistair: Oh, is that so? You could just be listening to the tone of my voice. You could be an utter moron, for all we know.
 * Dog: (Angry growl)
 * Alistair: Hey, now. There's nothing saying that a moron can't be cute and adorable. Who's the cute and adorable puppy?
 * Dog: (Happy Barking)
 * Alistair: Ignorance is bliss, isn't it? That's what the Chantry kept telling me, anyhow.


 * Alistair: Do you really know what's going on here? The Blight, the civil war... I really wonder how much of it you understand.
 * Dog: (He wags tail happily.)
 * Alistair: We're all special... big parts to play. Even you. Especially you, in some ways. You are the mabari. You guard one of the most important people--
 * Dog: (Excited Bark)
 * Alistair: What?
 * Dog: (Excited barking!)
 * Alistair: You... you want to play? But I'm talking. Why doesn't anyone want to hear me talk?