"Well I'm trying to remain optimistic in the face of overwhelming adversity." Conlan wondered if she would get his sarcasm. Few people did. He swallowed, which was a mistake. Perhaps it might be a good idea to get them both a bucket of water.
"Do you suppose any of the other Wardens are in their own special privies?" He had assumed that it was the ale that had driven him to the bathroom, but he hadn't seen the dwarf girl in the mess when they were drinking, but that didn't preclude her from the festivities. He racked his brain to remember her name. The Warden Commander had called it, and unlike the elf with the Antivan accent, Conlan had actually been paying attention when Alistair said it.
"I mean... I've fought darkspawn before. And they gave me the whole oh don't touch their blood story. So... yeah..." Conlan drifted silent, remembering the wounds of the men in the camp at Ostagar. As their bodies were slowly consumed by the corruption. No matter how drunk, sick, or out of it he was, no matter how many years had passed, Conlan wouldn't forget the way that looked.