Orlais? Maker, no. I'm from Ferelden - much more respectable place, even if it must be steeped in mud and dog shit.

[ Watching her struggle with that little ball of fluff and tiny kitten claws, Anders perhaps takes pity - summoning a small, green wisp in his open hand. It bobs around the table, catching little kitten gazes and luring the one trying to tangle itself in her hair to swiping at it, instead. ]

I can't imagine why.

[ Even a little bit drunk, his overtly flirtatious tone is an obviously teasing one, as is the dumb grin that accompanies it. ]

Ah, well. We'll both just have to keep our gorgeous faces out of the limelight for now, then, I suppose. I'm sure between us we can find someone more willing to start a revolution on our behalf.