The hand that rested on the table stirred, fingers curling into a fist on their own accord. Already he was defensive of her, and the urge to say very uncharitable things about the man from the Chantry was hard to stifle. Despite the spark of anger in his mind, he thought over what she said carefully. The Chanters and Sisters could be haughty or distant, but Ordhan had never seen blatant rudeness from them. Decency aside, he was surprised that someone from the Chantry would have the nerve to speak to a towering giantess--an armed one, no less--so aggressively.
Even as his face hardened his mind raced for an explanation. Perhaps she was mistaken for someone else. Perhaps it was just an especially cranky doorman. Perhaps the people of Orlais hated the people of the Anderfels.
Perhaps they were hiding something.
But what? "I don't understand why they would do that," he finally replied, at a loss. He had no explanation to offer or insight to unravel the riddle; nothing to offer, in fact, other than the shared resentment in his eyes and the sympathy in his voice.