Camp segment!
Confusion
Leliana
She sits watching the fire, listening to the muffled swearing and clanging coming from Morgana's nearly-knocked-over tent.
Alistair's eyebrows are so high that they have nearly shot off his face, raising even more at some of the detailed descriptions of Andraste's anatomy. "She's trying to remove splintmail in there?"
Leliana takes another look at the tent. "While lying down, it seems."
"That's... wow."
She stands, walking to the mage's tent. "Morgana? Perhaps you require a little help?"
"Yes... please," comes the panting reply.
"Why must you do this every night?' she asks the reddened Warden. "If it is because of privacy, just use the tree line over there."
"I... ah. Thank you." She begins to hop in a one-booted, rather undignified way over to the trees. "I'd change in camp, but I think Alistair would explode if I did that."
Leliana lets out a laugh and waves to the woman she is beginning to consider a friend, sitting back next to the campfire.
"Why does she always talk to you?"
She looks up, frowning. "What do you mean?"
"You two are all girls together and talking about nugs, but she's smiled at me twice."
"Ah."
"It's confusing. One minute it's all, 'Die, evil templar!' and the next it's, 'thank you, Alistair' and 'I understand why you didn't tell us your father was a king'. Oh, and joking about stew. Don't forget stew."
Leliana shrugs. "I... cannot answer that very usefully, Alistair, since I have no idea. But I do not think she hates you."
"You don't?" The half-question is at once hopeful and cautious - he is approaching this conversation the way one approaches a boiling kettle.
"No." She shakes her head, with the hint of a laugh, and then there is a thoughtful silence.
Until Morgana arrives in the wool tunic she found in Lothering, clanking and swearing as she carries her armour.