Nugs are good for many things--not the least of them being companionable. The nuglet tucks her limbs beneath herself with a contented burble, inkdrop eyes sliding closed as the attention to her ears lulls her to sleep. Not for her to deal with any moral quandaries or dashed hopes.

Those can all be left to her owner. He's markedly better equipped for them, after all, given so much of a Circle mage's life involves keeping personal matters close to one's vest. (Maybe it shouldn't surprise him that so much of this sounds familiar; it fits so neatly into his arguments that a Circle's templars weren't so different from their mage charges.

This is not the way he'd wanted to have been right.)

"Then why set you to the task of looking after him, if not to give him someone he could trust? Why have you do anything out of her sight?" They don't hold much with questioning at all, he remembers in Simon's voice, and it lends anguish to his questions. Ser Coupe is--if not a friend--someone he thought of as a better commander than that.

Someone worthy of the instinctive respect he has (they both have) for her. "Andraste's pyre--and that's sufficient for her to have done with you. Whatever it was he told you--it didn't make him a danger, did it?" Because that's the only reason he can conceive of that might justify any of this.