[He laughs. It's an undignified thing, more akin to a low giggle than anything approaching what a grown elf ought to emit, but he can't help it. He isn't even laughing at Astarion, just as the truth of what he's saying: there's so much that's strange. Even Fenris can see it, from the blight to abominations to the entire concept of phylacteries . . . oh, and don't forget:]

Qunari.

[Sweetly corrected, for he finds the mispronunciation rather cute. But mmph, less so: that reminder of elven prejudice. Fenris scoffs derisively beneath his breath (though he does glance around, but ah, no one is paying two drunken elves any mind).]

It helps if you're intimidating. Most humans know better than to pick a fight with an elf who has a claymore strapped to his back, never mind who has the markings I do.

[He leans his cheek against his palm, in part for the comfort and in part because the room has begun to spin a little, and it's nice to have an anchor.]

As for Corypheus and his hunters— they will never catch you, not so long as you are with me.

[Smug, that, and frankly, not unduly so. But oh, oh, wait, he had a further thing to say about being an elf in Thedas, which was:]

Who, who do you have in charge, then, if not humans? Dwarves? Elves? I would think the humans would simply take over in your world, too . . . they expand so quickly.

[He's never talked to anyone like this. He's never talked about humans like this, distinctly separate and utterly other.]

Though I suppose no faster nor slower than elves, but . . . mmph, still.