I've written a book on you, Hawke. I think it's safe to say I know you better than yourself. [At least he had that over anyone else. People could read the books all they wanted, but they'd never experience Hawke at her best, at least not in the way he had.]

[He could take comfort in that.]

What kind of man can't take fooling around without a bed? [No kind of man he wanted to know. But maybe that was just the residual jealousy speaking. Still, by all accounts he was getting up in his years, but he still felt like he could have a romp on the rocky ground and be no worse for wear.]