Imagine if you will, tummy rub rubs for the bitchiest old ladies that with more wrinkles than a bogfisher’s balls. Just imagine. Asher does and that’s why he’s a big dirty heathen. “How much of a fuss would it kick up if I decided to repaint that statue in Skyhold’s Chantry the way Avvar warriors paint themselves for battle?” So yeah, Bronson’s going to get kitted out and Asher can sing Andraste’s mabari really loudly from somewhere when he’s not too busy laughing.

“Like your new girl. But I get it, the amount of noble wives and daughters, or sometimes sons, maybe odd times the husband or a chevalier that want to bed some big wild mercenary is off the charts, it’s wild.”