[Hawke opens his mouth to argue, to tell Anders just how well he knows him, in every sense of the word. How he'd bled for Anders, cried for him, defended him against a world that would just as soon see him dead for his actions, supported him even when his plans were ill conceived and even worse in execution. Cared for him when sick, fought beside him when attacked, gave up everything for his - for their - beliefs.
He closes his mouth again, looking at those angry amber eyes as if they bore holes in him, and he knows Anders is right. He doesn't know him, not like this. This isn't the man with ink-stained hands who squints up by candlelight to write a treatise on his beliefs. This isn't the same man who once pledged to bathe the entire city of Kirkwall in blood just to keep him safe. This is a scared apostate, hunted, desperate enough to take a vow to the Wardens of all things to keep the Templars away. His priorities are different, his life is different, and he'd never told Hawke about these things.
But he'd told him others. Told him how he's afraid to sleep too deeply lest he lose himself to Justice in the Fade. Told him just how empty and lonely he was, perhaps not in voice but in action. Hawke sees that here too, under the cracking veneer of Anders' facade, and his heart aches because he knows there is something between Anders' now and Hawke's now that turns the blond's wisecracking air into something tortured and desperate and it makes Hawke feel wrong for wanting that Anders back. The one who cares, certainly, but the one who's seen too much, been through too much, and had enough.
He shouldn't wish that on anyone, least of all the person he loves.
When Hawke does finally speak, his voice is calm and carefully placid.]
I forget myself. Please accept my apologies. I won't bother you about this again.
I'll see to matters on the Iskaulit.
[Without waiting for a reply, the video winks out.]
encrypted video
He closes his mouth again, looking at those angry amber eyes as if they bore holes in him, and he knows Anders is right. He doesn't know him, not like this. This isn't the man with ink-stained hands who squints up by candlelight to write a treatise on his beliefs. This isn't the same man who once pledged to bathe the entire city of Kirkwall in blood just to keep him safe. This is a scared apostate, hunted, desperate enough to take a vow to the Wardens of all things to keep the Templars away. His priorities are different, his life is different, and he'd never told Hawke about these things.
But he'd told him others. Told him how he's afraid to sleep too deeply lest he lose himself to Justice in the Fade. Told him just how empty and lonely he was, perhaps not in voice but in action. Hawke sees that here too, under the cracking veneer of Anders' facade, and his heart aches because he knows there is something between Anders' now and Hawke's now that turns the blond's wisecracking air into something tortured and desperate and it makes Hawke feel wrong for wanting that Anders back. The one who cares, certainly, but the one who's seen too much, been through too much, and had enough.
He shouldn't wish that on anyone, least of all the person he loves.
When Hawke does finally speak, his voice is calm and carefully placid.]
I forget myself. Please accept my apologies. I won't bother you about this again.
I'll see to matters on the Iskaulit.
[Without waiting for a reply, the video winks out.]