[From the floor where she is still scraping up papers into a single stack, Wysteria looks up at him—no, she doesn't. She is very faithfully reverting her eyeline to these scattered documents and primly clearing her throat.]

That is correct. Viktor and I are adapting plans devised by myself and the late Provost Stark. I imagine us to be in the testing phases shortly. A miniature is in the process of assembly.

[The dog, meanwhile, is patently thrilled by this affection. His little white body squirms in Gannicus's grip less to escape and more just to encourage this excellent treatment. Everyone should be as grateful to see him as this stranger is, obviously.]

And you are the Tevinter fighter.