[Cullen shuffles reluctantly back into the bedroom to find something to wear-- as Evelyn had predicted, he'd been in nothing but boxers. She'd stripped him out of his usual lounge clothes after last night's vomiting episode. Back to Egg, then.]

[And opening with an eyeroll, because, well, Iron Bull.]

He keeps telling me hickeys aren't a competition. [monotone:] Which is good for him, because I'd be winning.

[She shakes her head and addresses the other question.]

You really must have forgotten last night, if you don't remember the vomiting. I didn't bother trying to get the poor man into proper pajamas before putting him to bed.