She smiled around the mouth of her ale bottle. "The life of a stir stick, you mean? Yes, I think it suits me too." She smirked. "Thank you."

He didn't see the dog much because he was usually with Aveline or her mother. Or at home, causing trouble. "If I said his name was 'Precious', would you laugh at me?" She tried to keep a straight face, ultimately failing. "His name is Maxwell. Carver said I should call him 'Killer' but my mother wasn't having any of it. She said I couldn't introduce people to my dog if his name was Killer." A shame, too, because it would fit a war hound.

"Antivan brandy, the weakness of the Knight-Captain. I'll make certain the both of us don't have too much, then," she teased. "And hopefully the Maker will let me steer well in the morning if there's a problem otherwise."

Hawke waited until he was sitting, shoulder against hers, before she spoke again. She didn't want to distract him while he was finding his way. "You might if you were wearing armor," she joked. "It does seem fragile, though. It felt like that even on the ship from Ferelden to Kirkwall, though. Just a few boards of wood separating you from the waves."