"I've found most spirits I've encountered since leaving the Free Marches... inordinately strong." He admits this almost shyly, as if he's confessing something embarrassing. Certainly Varric and Bull have playfully teased the Inquisitor of his 'low tolerance'. It's true enough, but Lasulahn prefers sweeter drinks besides. The ones passed around the campfires always seem to burn terribly, or taste of lamp oil.

He can't help a smile as he listens to the other elf talk of his home. The softer look suits him, in a way. "You certainly make it sound worth the visit. I eagerly await it." It's nicer to look forward to the trip, instead of thinking 'if'.