"I often sneak into dwarven reunions. Blend right in."

Templars and mages, He’s shoving it back at her again — but it's not a complete brushoff. Wren sucks in a breath. She'll only push this so far; the offer's on the table, however quietly implied.

All she can do is keep her eyes open, and hope he doesn't have need of them. Too much shit to handle, too many less capable of looking after themselves.

"Likes them cold, does he?" Accusing your friends' brothers of necrophilia, as you do. "This is the convenience of wedding Andraste: Ashes are so very portable."

She’ll go along with a change in topic. Blasphemy seems more likely to cheer him.