"Urgency is a relative term," she concedes, drawing back just enough to catch Morrigan's gaze, eyebrow a little quirked. It is... strange and pleasant and has anxiety balling together in her cut, the threat of having something vulnerable and making herself vulnerable with that same thing. Part of her wonders if this is too foolish even with prompting and needling and concerns from people who did not know the lay and the truth of it. Perhaps it is possible still to backtrack and to pretend none of this had come to pass.

She already knows that she does not want to, and that is condemning enough.

"Teasing is unkind." Quiet and utterly unaffected by this apparent cruelty, as if she is making the observation for the sake of someone else who might be devastated by Morrigan's wit and as if she had not come in here wielding her words and her tone with some viciousness of their own. "And the dress is not very discrete, hm?"

Which skirts an Issue, and Leliana glances down, idly (deliberately) trails a finger along one of those silvery scars.