When he sipped from his tankard and tasted the bitter liquid, Noah screwed up his face, slapped his right hand over his mouth, and coughed dryly. There was good ale in Denerim; the food wasn't awful, the marketplace was crowded with bodies and he knowingly used his eyes to stare because women here were distinct. They wore different clothes. Their skins were darker. But he wasn't foolish enough to overstay, or to make advances on the women given to the Maker. He respected his God too much to make a pass at somebody in His service.
As he turned around he eventually noticed he was being watched. He had come to places like this to lose himself amongst the people. They had noticed he was a mage. Human curiosity led some to talk. Others would if not drunk. One of them was actually a woman.
When he opened his mouth to speak he thought twice. This really would bring unwanted attention and he didn't need any more people watching him today. To forget the Templars he returned to his chair. Things seemed quiet there. He wriggled his toes.