Krem thrust his arm back with the dressing robe and towel, rolling his eye, at the hint of a chuckle. He didn't think that Dorian was deliberately trying to be condescending, but he was managing it a bit anyway. The month had gone quickly, and Krem had other things to concern himself with than investigating the intricacies and mysteries of the island just yet. He'd get to it.

But the question did pose a bit of a situation. He was quiet a moment longer than was strictly necessary, and then, with quiet consideration, he said, "The Iron Bull. You'd make our third, from home."

There were good people here. Strange people. Some more or less familiar in certain ways or customs, all of them struggling. But the Iron Bull was the only one that mattered, when it came to that question.