The joint is passed without comment or protest; she's happy to share. She prefers smoking with friends than smoking alone, anyway, though there's not as much opportunity for that lately. How awful would it be for smoking with friends to become something unpleasant, associated always with coping with their pasts?

But she lets out a hollow, humorless laugh at what he says.

"Fucking assholes," she agrees, then sniffs and rubs her face with her sleeve. "Not that I ever knew more than his name and where he lived. I was just...some stupid kid living on the streets, no friends, no clan, no luck. The girls at that fucking brothel treated me more like a person than anyone else in Kirkwall ever did."