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"I don't mean to sound rude, but I've been wondering something..."
Mahariel looks up from combing her long hair and raises an eyebrow. "Do I want to know?"
"Well, it's not anything bad, I was just thinking about your hair. You always style it so close to your face."
"You have a problem with the way I style my hair?"
Her eyebrows only raise higher.
"No, no!--just--It can't be comfortable, what with it being hotter than Andraste's pyre during the day and halfway through Solace. Not to mention all the layers of armor you wear while trekking halfway and back across Fereldan."
Mahariel looks thoughtful for a moment before nodding and smirking mischievously. "I'll tell you. If you can guess."
"What? Aw, come on, that's hardly fair!"
"You're the one who asked. Besides, you're smart, Alistair. I'm sure you can figure it out." She stands, heading in the direction of her tent. But as she passes him, she reaches out a hand and ruffles his perfectly coifed hair, eliciting a sharp protest from him.
Alistair smoothes back his hair, watching as she leaves, and sighs. "I suppose I deserved that."