Well... in that case. "Thank you," he says earnestly, and with a bright and warm smile. He will certainly enjoy this while the others pass around their ale and firewater.

"I suppose that's true enough." He wonders quite often if anyone should be following him anyway, but Cassandra and the others were adamant - and wouldn't really take no for an answer, either. "There's a lot still to learn, and not really the time to learn it, but I'm... doing what I can." He takes another sip, licking a drop of the pink cordial from his lips absently. As stressful as the title of Inquisitor is, and as much as he feels he's unsuited, the elf tries not to succumb to despair and hopelessness. As more than one person has pointed out, much of Thedas looks to him now. What use was a leader paralyzed by fear?