He'd wanted to hug her, but the sensible part of him, the same part that had told him not to run up to her lie some sort of bleeding fool, somehow managed to win out, and instead of embracing his dwarf companion, he stood there awkwardly, fumbling out words like a speech-impaired child.
And then suddenly, she embraces him. Right around the middle. And after the blush in his ears fades to just a warmth, he finds his own arms curling around her in turn.
"I'm glad you're here," he says. "Really glad. If I told you how glad I was, you probably wouldn't believe me. You'd just think I was making it up."
The truth is, he did miss her. And now just because he's in like with her. Because Zevran seems to have his own life now. Because he hasn't talked to Wynne since she first told him about Morrigan.
And then suddenly, he realizes he should probably tell her. Or maybe Wynne should tell her. He's not sure.
The thought is enough for Alistair to relinquish his grasp.
"I'm not used to things here," he says. "I was just thinking how nice it'd be to have someone not used to things here with me."