[Varric wanted to laugh. His brain ached with the urge to let out a chuckle or two. But his chest throbbed just as bad, perhaps even worse, as her rant wore on. He wished it had been that simple, that he might have wandered away for such a simple, petty reason. Things like that were easier to recover from, he figured. He'd been sneezed and vomited on by a number of people. He might have been pissed, but he'd recovered.]
[But it wasn't a squabble that had torn them apart. It wasn't even a disagreement. It had just happened in the space of a few hours. War broke out and she went to all the places Varric never could have followed.]
[He'd wrote, but he'd learned from starting "The Tale of the Champion" that words could never capture the wry, charming nature of Hawke. Even when she was the one scrawling out notes to him, it was missing something.]
[He was missing something.]
It was nothing like that, Hawke. [His voice was quiet, devoid of its usual, charming lilt.] Don't worry about it, alright? It doesn't matter. You're here now.
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[But it wasn't a squabble that had torn them apart. It wasn't even a disagreement. It had just happened in the space of a few hours. War broke out and she went to all the places Varric never could have followed.]
[He'd wrote, but he'd learned from starting "The Tale of the Champion" that words could never capture the wry, charming nature of Hawke. Even when she was the one scrawling out notes to him, it was missing something.]
[He was missing something.]
It was nothing like that, Hawke. [His voice was quiet, devoid of its usual, charming lilt.] Don't worry about it, alright? It doesn't matter. You're here now.