Alright, obviously the elf was awake. And wearing a blanket as a hooded robe, all curled up and snug with just those eyes visible - they were so bright; in the dark they looked even more interesting, all reflective, but they didn't startle Dorian. The words did, a little, a greeting he wasn't exactly expecting.
"No?" he inquired, but it was more like a nudge to keep talking and finish that thought. Lavellan said he had things to say, ergo, this must be the beginning - every story needed one, it was always a good place to start.
The staff was removed from behind him, with Dorian leaning it against the wall - he wouldn't leave the Magister's staff just lying around, nor would he walk around without it on him. He preferred to keep it where the sleeping went on, so he could grab it quickly if need be. Though not being saddled with the bulk meant he could kneel next to where Lavellan was on the blankets, settling there.
"Are you going to make me guess what it really is, amatus?"