Her eyes widen -- although that's hard to notice -- when he jerks awake. Lavellan knows the feeling, of suddenly being one place and then another with no memory of how. The gap of that memory still presses back, what is she not remembering, and Lavellan sometimes wakes with the unfamiliar feeling of having almost stumbled across the answer. But she can't remember those dreams, and that too is disorienting. She's a mage, she should be able to recall them in some manner, even if she is not a Dreamer like Solas.

Lavellan says nothing until he does, still marveling at how a dwarf could be so small in statue. Leliana had asked Varric, who hadn't known either. Just as strange as she is, then, in his own way.

"Disorienting, isn't it?" Her voice is slightly accented, lilting and light. They don't know him, and they don't trust him, but they didn't with her either, in the beginning. She was given a pass because she was their answer -- he does not have that. Yet Lavellan finds some sympathy in her heart for him, for his predicament.