So that his favourite (he's gone so soft but okay, he's still pretty much in mourning, you can't lose one of your best friends and not need things to fill up that space) doesn't miss out, he puts him down too, hopping back so they've got room to move about. At least everyone he bought nugs from reared them right, but you never take a nug with a bad temper, what good does that do anyone? The happy noises are relaxing though, it's why he's kept this lot around instead of unleashing them.

(Skyhold he's not sorry about your feral nug problem, he doesn't know he can't read suddenly.)

"Oh they know. There's a nug king down in the Deep Roads." Shockingly that isn't the part Yngvi's making up. "They didn't understand anything else I said to them to get them moving, not one thing. It was sad. But then I started calling that one," he indicates the chunkiest of the nugs, "Rump Roast and suddenly he started thundering along like there was a bear after him. To be fair there was a drunk Orlesian man firing a crossbow at me."