It's a look Dorian has seen too many times, felt on his own face far too many times, knowing that the person in front of you, who you know, who you care quite deeply about, didn't remember you.

He raises an eyebrow at her. "Please, I do hope my previous self wasn't that much of an idiot toward you. I know of human Inquisitors, even if you are the first I've had the pleasure of meeting. The Mark is more than enough evidence, as I have yet to even hear of anyone who would want to try and counterfeit it. For all the good it might do here, so far away from home." Why would Cecily even want to pretend to be the Inquisitor? It carried none of the power or prestige (or, to be fair, frustrations and pain) that it did back home, there was no Army of the Inquisition here, no Skyhold, no spies. Just a few friends that didn't remember her.

He stepped closer and, after a moment's hesitation, more to see if she would accept the gesture, put a hand on her arm. "I may not remember being your friend, but I am more than willing to pick up where my counterpart left off. In fact," He smiled "I have any number of questions for you, you'll probably be quite sick of me before the week is out." He offered an arm for her to take. "If you have some time in your evening for a few bottles of wine, I'm sure we'll be gossiping like two old ladies in no time."