Anders is immediately hung up by Cullen's next sentence. "Not a templar anymore?" he echoes. Surprise relaxes the stern grip he has over his features. If Cullen were to look closely, he might detect a hint of delighted hope in the way Anders' eyes widen. "Did they put you out to pasture permanently?"

Maker's breath, a dishonorable discharge would be the best news he's heard in a while. Cullen walking away of his own volition would still mean one less templar, and that's good news in any world, under any circumstances.

So amused is he at the prospect of the Templar Order being down a man, he fails to bristle at the threat right away. It feels like a threat the way he let the word "arrangements" hang between them, but after a moment's consideration Anders cocks his head, wondering if this is what Cullen trying to get a rise out of him looks like. Humor is not his strong suit.

"I'm not the one who passed out with his door open, remember. Spy on me all you like, the most you'll find is a Warden doing Warden business." He's curious to see if the hint embedded in his reply shifts some pebbles at the base of Cullen's mountain of secrets. He's still a Warden, still stationed in Ferelden, still theoretically out of the Chantry's clutches.