According to Merrill, you elves like to frolic.
Despite his annoyance at the brooding jokes, Fenris felt a touch of concern for the leader of their ‘merry band of misfits’ as Hawke liked to call them. “Is…something the matter?”
“Yes something is.” His voice was uncharacteristically serious, eyes the colour of Jupiter are half covered by paled eyelids as Hawke removed the hand from his face. A small voice sang out within the back of his mind, telling the Ferelden to try again with his flirtatious hint.
“I just realized that I didn’t feed Dog this morning.”
Or maybe not.
“With any luck he’s eaten uncle Gamlen.”
Sometimes, Fenris honestly wondered if Hawke was capable of being serious. All evidence pointed to the negative, but most of the time Fenris enjoyed Hawke's humor. It was a light in his shadowed world. "Your uncle may give the poor creature an upset stomach. Gamlen can't be a healthy meal by any standards."
