"Well she wrote a good and proper letter to m'lady after the spirits gave her a dream, and m'lady needed that. Avvar've been doing it longer than anyone else, you just live around humans and they're all idiots who listen to the Chantry, and elves, and they listen to the Chantry or they listen to people who like the smell of halla arse. Least that's how Melisende and Liadan put it, and I reckon they're qualified since they've come outta the alienages." Yngvi can talk a lot about things because Kirkwall, shit was weird before some puffed-up doglord got famous there, but y'know, some things he can sort of shrug off because he's a dwarf and he doesn't have to deal with them just as much as the others do. Plus he'll be contrary six times before breakfast for the sake of it.

Still, a flint-sharp grin slips onto his face for a moment. "Fell into a sky vagina. Thought Asher was the one that fell into vaginas, or that was his excuse when someone came chasing us because Asher'd gotten us into trouble. Reckon a sky vagina'd be less trouble the way I heard it. It can't badmouth you and tarnish your reputation all the way to Nevarra before you've finished stitching yourselves up." Fucking Asher. Like literally fucking Asher, so many problems, so much coin to solve them. "Don't say you don't get it or that because she'll just...know? Just-- or Gjurd. Gjurd will know. And Gjurd isn't afraid of anyone 'cept bigger fish than anything we could name. Gjurd'd have you."

Is he talking shit? Who knows. But seriously, Gjurd could wreck people if he wanted to because he's thrown Yngvi several feet through the air more than once, enough that the landing hurt. Plus the man looks through you enough that Yngvi does get that uncomfortable itchy feeling he only gets around older dwarves, in Orzammar, or after-- scratch that, the third one is a different itch, it doesn't count.

"I have a better plan. It involves bacon grease and a barrel. And hounds. Lots of hounds." You listening, or is that enough?