The bread burner deserves some explanation, Alistair thinks. "One of the better inventions here," he says. "Warms your broad up and toasts it till it's a crispy brown. I like slathering mine with butter and jam," he adds, helpfully, as an afterthought.
"Things here are... different from Ferelden. There's magic, but it's not quite as we know it. And things we think are magic really aren't." He, too, had thought moving pictures were the creation of some half-mad apostate.
"The ever-humble Alistair, at your service. My unquestioning loyalty would make even the dog proud," he says, jestfully.
But the joking tone of voice is quickly discarded in lieu of something more serious.
"I don't think you're a bother," he says. "And," he presses his lips together, "I can't speak for anyone else in our party, but I don't think you're a burden to them, either."
He places an arm on hers--the same arm that she used to touch him with just a moment before.
"So please don't act as though I'm the only one here for you. You have a lot of people who like you. People far more capable than I am."