"I don't trust this man." Cullen's eyes narrowed as he skimmed over the report in his hands one more time. "Something about this… isn't right. If there are really Venatori in those tunnels, we'll need to send a larger force to take care of them."
"I don't think that's wise," Lavellan countered, taking the parchment from his hands and reading it once more for herself. "I don't trust him either, but I think it'd be safer to just do as he asks."
Cullen scoffed. "What, send twenty men against Maker knows how many Venatori? They'll be slaughtered. Even if we outnumber them, the area needs to be secured. We can't risk letting the enemy take control of those passages."
"And that means we can risk the lives of our own people?" she asked, crossing her arms and frowning. "We were given instructions. I don't like imagining what this man will do if we don't follow them."
"What he'll do can't be much worse than what a force of Venatori will do if they find out they have an advantage!" Cullen was quickly growing agitated, she could tell; the hour was late, and the Commander had been working tirelessly throughout the day, training those under his command and sifting through paperwork during the soldiers' breaks. Lavellan doubted that a night's rest would change his mind, but he needed it regardless.
"Let's just stop for tonight," she sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "We could both use some rest." Cullen said nothing as she turned and made her way towards the door. She stopped in the doorway, saying over her shoulder, "Come to bed soon. Don't overwork yourself, love." With that, she was gone.
Cullen leaned over his desk and heaved a sigh, staring down at the papers below him. As much as he loved her, he couldn't manage to accomplish anything with Lavellan if they happened to disagree on something; she was just as persistently stubborn as he. He resolved to ask Josephine or Leliana make the final decision in the morning.
He was gathering his papers in a somewhat-neat stack when he heard a voice from the corner of the room.
"She doesn't understand you."
Cullen nearly jumped out of his skin; he dropped his stack of reports and his head snapped up to identify the voice. It came from his assistant, Jim. "Maker's breath, when did you get in here?"
"Not long ago," Jim said simply, and when he offered no further explanation for his presence or what he'd said, Cullen nodded slowly.
"Yes, well…" He cleared his throat. "You're dismissed."
After casting one last longing gaze at the Commander, Jim left without a word.