[Whatever she starts to say is swallowed prematurely when he says her name. It never fails to send a little thrill down her spine when he says it, when she's not 'Hawke' to everyone. And beyond the very rare occasion she hears it from his lips, she hasn't had the pleasure since before her mother died.

It's...strangely nice, even if 'Hawke' is a comfortably distant name to remind her not to get too attached to the people and things she does outside of her circle of friends.

The side of her lips quirks upward in amusement.]

Especially you, I've come to notice. I'll admit that the mental image of you with tattoos of breasts isn't one that goes away easily.

[She holds out her hand for the wine, her smile growing sharp at the edges, that dangerous glint in her eyes more telling than anything else.]

Me, more frightening than the templars? Perish the thought.