"That's still not an excuse, you can repurpose anywhere you know, instead of having kitchens up the stairs, no one said I'd need to actually fling half a cow over each shoulder and hope I don't smack my head off the doorframe on the way in." Of course his mother would say it's his own fault, blah blah blah, he was joining up for prestige, not to be her mule for hire to send a wagon as a gesture of support but he's trying to be a good son for more than five minutes at a time, once every decade.

Watching her go, he sighs, letting his mabari lean on him and well, more flies with honey than vinegar is truly a thing so he flashes her one of his very rare big, sincere smiles that doesn't look as though he's about to commit murder.

"Cheers for that but me? Carta? I'm at least three times too big for Carta, no, two of the crew are ex-carta but they still call themselves that, they're usually game for everything but I think the mountain defeated them. We're mercenaries, make no mistake, soldiers of fortune, but even they cut ties with their former employers."

Kirkwall was pretty rough for all parties involved, what can you do?