( Hawke's silence lingered for a few seconds after Anders stopped speaking, his gaze turned down to the drink he had already half-finished. Something in his chest ached — the reminder of Varric, of Kirkwall, of Templars, of everything that had happened still weighing heavy in his heart. He downed the rest of his drink and ordered another immediately afterwards, the liquid tingling all the way down his throat; blooming warmth across his mighty frame. Assuming these were normal drinks, he also assumed he needed more than one to get drunk. Little did he know. )
You used to be funny? ( He teased, still doing his best to remain as mirthful as possible in the face of... everything. )
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You used to be funny? ( He teased, still doing his best to remain as mirthful as possible in the face of... everything. )