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sten: *screams*
warden: *screams louder to assert dominance*
alistair: should we... do something...?
morrigan: don’t you dare, i want to see who wins this time.
warden: why are you on the floor?
zevran: i’m depressed.
zevran: also i was stabbed, could you please get wynne?
merrill: hawke, what do idk, ly, and ttyl mean?
hawke: i don’t know, love you, talk to you later.
merrill: all right, i love you too, i’ll just ask isabela.
*the warden and alistair sitting in fort drakon together*
alistair: so, who should we wait for?
warden: i’d wait for sten, but i feel safer in this cell.
alistair: so, are you the big spoon or the little spoon?
warden: i’m a knife.
morrigan, from across the camp: he’s the little spoon.
lavellan: how’s the sexiest person in skyhold today?
solas: i-
dorian, from the library above: i’m doing great, thanks!
warden: what did you do with taliesen?
zevran: oh, what didn’t i do with taliesen?
warden: ...
zevran: all right, that sounded more twisted than i intended. i disposed of the corpse respectfully.
varric: would you stab your best friend in the leg for 10 million gold?
hawke: sure, you stab me, my leg gets better, we buy a big-ass house.
inquisitor: and if you stab me too, we’ll have 20 million.
sera: i’m in.
solas: ...
cullen: so, that’s my plan.
inquisitor: are you alright with constructive criticism? i don’t want to sound mean.
cullen: of course, go ahead.
inquisitor: it fucking sucks.
cullen: that’s not constructive criticism.
sera: you’re a theif!
inquisitor: thief?
sera: theif.
inquisitor: i before e, except after c.
sera: thceif.
inquisitor: no.
aeducan/brosca: can you at least TRY to see things from my point of view?
zevran, crouching down to the warden’s height: all right.
aeducan/brosca: yOU KNOW WHAT-
zevran: PLEASE DON’T BREAK UP WITH ME
solas: don’t worry, i have a plan.
inquisitor: alright.
solas: traitor-say-what?
blackwall: excuse me?
solas: what?
inquisitor:
solas:
solas: wait-
hawke: you owe an apology to merrill.
fenris: fine!
fenris: unfuck you or whatever.
cullen, touching lavellan’s forehead after haven’s destruction: herald, you’re way too hot!
lavellan, laying in the snow and delirious from fever: eyyyy, you finally noticed!
alistair: can i talk to you in private?
zevran: oh, lemme guess, you’re ready to confess your love to our dear warden and want me to teach you how to kiss.
alistair: what? no, stop that, i know how to kiss. i’ve read books.
solas: i can explain.
inquisitor: can you?
solas: if you give me thirty seconds to think of a lie.
cassandra: maker, give me patience.
inquisitor: i think you meant give me strength.
cassandra: if the maker gave me strength, you’d be choking.
inquisitor: uh, that’s quite kinky.
cassandra: ...
inquisitor: i like it.
the warden, before talking about the dark ritual: ... you love me, right?
alistair: normally, i’d say yes without hesitation, but i feel like this is going somewhere and i don’t like it.
josephine: violence isn’t the answer.
inquisitor: you’re right.
josephine: *sighs in relief*
inquisitor: violence is the question.
josephine: what?
inquisitor, bolting away: aND THE ANSWER IS YES.
josephine, running after them: NO!
hawke: oh just so you know, it’s very muggy outside.
fenris:
fenris: i swear, if i step outside and all of our mugs are on the front lawn...
hawke: *sips coffee from bowl*
inquisitor: i’m having a baby.
felix: oh, that’s wond-
inquisitor, slamming adoption papers on the table: it’s you, sign here.
inquisitor: am i in trouble?
cassandra: take a guess.
inquisitor: no?
cassandra: take another guess.
hawke: so, what’s for dinner?
anders, staring at the food he just burnt: regret.
dorian: i’m a necromancer.
inquisitor: oh, that’s cool. i, on the other hand, am a reverse necromancer.
dorian: isn’t that just killing people?
inquisitor: you know, sticking to details is not sexy.