"Then you are a fool twice over for not knowing yourself to be foolish." Muttered, frustrated and angry- but without the heat it would normally have. Why? Why do they say these things, why do they mean them? How can they mean them? They do not know him, do not know what he has done, the blood on his hands or the bitterness in his heart.

How can they possibly care when they don't see more than he lets them- and what little they see is false?


Mostly false.



Vaguely false.


Perhaps he has been lying with honesty for so long he cannot pick apart what is a smile made for sanity and one made of sweetness.

That tug twists bitter, a flare of pain that has him grinding his teeth and pressing his face into the side of Anders' throat- but it gives. More of the fog lifts. That odd detachment, that distance. He feels his bones keenly, is skin prickling with awareness. "...Justice does not let you lie easily."

Beyond what he must to live, of course. In a tight, trembling voice Zevran murmurs. "Tell me this is real."