Harding knows when to call it a day and sleep, at least. She has her downtime, spends most meals in the company of others and always remains approachable to any scout, no matter what their concerns or worries might be. She allows them their rumours, their silliness, their adamant belief that she and Bruce are courting, because it would trouble her more if they didn't have rumours to spread, if they were terrified about what could happen tomorrow, or the day after, or the state of the world of the end of it all. She didn't have those kind of luxuries herself, even if she kept the knowledge of Corypheus at arms length. There were still many, many steps to take before they got there. They would get there, though. She had faith in that; she had silently sworn that she would finish what Evelyn had started, to make it so her sacrifice had mattered.

Lofty goals, then, and she would give herself the same high standards to match. She knows what's at stake, what Leliana expects of her agents. This was not a holiday. This was a war. She would give it her all, when the time came.

"A spurned lover?" Harding seems fractionally amused as she lets the arrow fly. It thuds into the center of the target as expected. "That's tempting fate. Nothing like a call for bad vibes." Or to lose another lover due to lack of being able to, well, shoot things. "What about you? Or is that something I shouldn't ask the spymaster?"