Garrett laughs with her: it's a silly sounding title and he knows it, especially with him being a Ferelden farmer-apostate. He sets the cakes back down and casts around for an empty cup, which he fills with tea and slides towards her.

"It's a city in the Free Marches, across the Waking Sea from Ferelden. I wouldn't recommend it, but they haven't kicked me out yet--actually, that's not a 'but', it's more of a 'because'." He leans back comfortably, at least as comfortably as his chair will allow, and shrugs. "And I'm the handsome, charming, devil-may-care kind of champion, of course. I've never heard of this Los Angeles of your, either. Rivaini?"