"Something to confuse looters when they come to pick clean my body? 'Ey! You think we should've killed this guy? It says here benev--benevo-- I think he was a nice guy, Bruiser.'" He took a seat leaning against the mainmast, close to where he had been before, just on the center bench now.

"It bothered me how many people were scraping for work. Still are, although that's finally starting to ease a little. It never seemed to me you were running short on things to do." Whether all of those things were strictly legal was a different matter. Strictly legal in Kirkwall always seemed to be something of a fuzzy line.

"The Gallows deserves its reputation. You realize you're making my case for me?" He shook his head. "The only difference is we tend to know the shape of the problems coming our way day to day, and as far as I know there aren't any hidden depths or dungeons breeding nameless horrors. Then again, this is Kirkwall. The whole city could be sitting on top of something like that."

He took another bite of his apple and quickly caught the juice with the side of his hand. He waited until he had swallowed to say anything more. "Fereldans, yes. I'm glad you took that over. They'll get a better shake from you than that Orlesian weasel."