[ The option she chooses is not quite a surprise, but it isn't the one he would have put money on—which is his foolishness, perhaps. After a moment his arm shifts and settles, from delicate pose to warm drape. Like they are ten years younger, drinking in the stern of a borrowed gondola while Byerly puts on a one-man show in the bow.
Or like they are now. Like she is someone who might come and hug him goodbye before sailing for Antiva. ]
Me, too. I don't...
[ He's lost people this way before. A creeping silence, nothing to burn—no, bury. The Dalish bury their dead. But she isn't— ]
Has your husband ever worried you like this?
[ An innocent reach for hope. Tell him how it worked out fine. ]
8]
Or like they are now. Like she is someone who might come and hug him goodbye before sailing for Antiva. ]
Me, too. I don't...
[ He's lost people this way before. A creeping silence, nothing to burn—no, bury. The Dalish bury their dead. But she isn't— ]
Has your husband ever worried you like this?
[ An innocent reach for hope. Tell him how it worked out fine. ]