"Perhaps you'd like to meet some of our more promising young mages and students," Irving suggests diplomatically.

Jahenna flashes him a charming smile. "Oh, certainly."

"Bring me the child. I'll try not to reduce her to a puddle of quivering jelly."

"Sensible of you. Unfortunately, we're not looking for helpful mages; we have those. We're looking for people to join the Grey Wardens. There's a difference. What makes you think joining would interfere with Enchantering?"

"The Templars serve an important function," she says, just a touch too innocently.

"Sorry. I think Irving mostly sent you to me to get you out of his hair and discourage you from getting too aggressive with the rest of us."

"Any tips? I'm not exactly a social butterfly, over here. Aggressive is more or less my one setting."

"Oh Maker, would you? At least for the Circle folks, you probably know them anyway. I can sit in the background and contribute information when necessary."

"Okay. I don't promise you'll find any recruits this way, but I do promise any recruits you find won't run away the minute they have both feet on the shore."

"I wasn't exactly expecting a full crop on my own. Why Duncan sent the ex-Templar with anger management issues to trawl the Circle tower, I will never- oh, wait, because he's a bastard and he has a nasty sense of humor, that's it."

"No comment."

Jahenna opens the door and sees that Greagoir and his husband have left behind a young Templar in their stead. "You, pup, bring in the next promising young whatever. And get a haircut, you're representing a dignified organization of utter bastards."

Metella maintains a very Irving-like expression of diplomatic neutrality. The young Templar scurries off.

Metella apparently has infinite patience, because she doesn't get fed up with the mages and she doesn't get fed up with Jahenna's mockery. She is equally polite and practical with the thirtieth mage as with the first.

"I admire your ability to not hate absolutely everyone in this tower," grumps Jahenna. "That last boy, Andraste's sainted tits. 'Oh, no, I'm afraid I can't save the world from the fucking Blight, I don't like sleeping on anything that isn't made of Orlesian silk.' What an utter cock."

"Think positively," says Metella, "now you will never have to see him again."

"Well, thanks for not being terrible like your peers. D'you know where my room is? I want to eat and then sleep and not be bothered by any of those idiots for a good twelve hours. I may have you put a glyph of repulsion on my door."

"Right this way."

Jahenna follows readily.

Metella shows her to a reasonably comfortable - although very small; space is tight in the tower - guest room.

"I'll see about something like that."

"I have a 'do not disturb' glyph that I put on my own door when I want to be left alone. It lasts until the next time the door is opened from the inside. I can put it on yours on my way out. Will that suit you, and do you need anything else?"

"Oh, sure. I was hoping anyone trying to wake me would be physically thrown into the opposite wall, but a polite sign is an acceptable substitute. Nothing else, thank you, you've been a dear."