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"Why?"
"Err, pardon?"
"Why, Hawke."
"I... uh, I don't think I understand the question," he choked out with a nervous chuckle.
Fenris shifted in his chair, setting down his wine class as he turned to face Hawke. He looked... worried? Confused? Almost... afraid? The expression flickered, dissipated, and Fenris averted his gaze.
"Why. Why this. Why spend your evenings in this decrepit place, freezing in this draft with only a sullen elf and a dead man's wine for company? Why me, Hawke? Why here? Why not... You could have anything. Anyone. And yet, you are here." He sounded almost angry, spitting out the last words through clenched teeth.
Ah, Hawke thought, we're back to this, aren't we?
Aloud, he gave only a soft laugh before gently saying "You already know, Fenris. I'm here because, apparently, my hobbies include squatting in dilapidated mansions and getting pissfaced off shite wine with handsome, broody individuals." A pause to lick his lips. "That, uh, that is, if it's alright with a certain handsome, broody individual that I be allowed to continue? And maybe put another log on this fire, you weren't kidding about the draft!"
He stood to do so, noting with satisfaction that the tension cleared from the air and smiling to himself as he heard a quiet chuckle behind him.
"Indeed?"
"Indeed."
"And if I were to tell you that your answer has been nearly identical to the last time I asked you this, what would you say?"
"That I clearly need to come up with better compliments if I'm already repeating myself."
That one got a real laugh, short and barking, and as he returned to his chair he noticed a glint in the elf's eyes.
"Such as?"
"Ah, putting me on the spot! Well, good thing I'm known for thinking on my feet."
"Better known for stalling."
"Oh-ho, ouch! Truly a worthy opponent for my sharp wit and charm!"
"Still stalling, Hawke." Fenris was grinning openly now, one finger tapping lightly on the rim of his glass, and Hawke couldn't help but match him.
"Impatience is a sin in the eye of the Maker, probably." He leaned forward, meeting Fenris's gaze. "Ah, but any words I might choose to describe you wouldn't nearly do you justice."
"An easy out."
"I wasn't done yet! You're also, hmm... You leave me tongue tied, is what you do. I can't think around you, you know that?"
"Thinking has never been your strongest skill to begin with, Hawke." Grin widening, he allowed himself to lean closer, eyes glittering.
"Ah! Lashed again with your razor tongue! Wounding me again and again without mercy. I'd almost think you enjoy cutting me down to size."
"And if I did?"
"Hmm, I just might need to do something about that. Can't have Kirkwall left without her Champion, now, can we?"
"Ah, of course not. Where would this tragedy of a shithole be without Garret Hawke and his awful jokes?"
"Hey! My jokes are not awful! And, I believe, you've steered me off course. I'm supposed to be complimenting you, not having you insult me!"
"I wouldn't do it if it weren't so enjoyable, Hawke. Now, I believe you were saying something about tongues...?"
"Mmm, always so direct, aren't you?"
"I can be when there is something that I want."
"What might that be?"
"Perhaps I will tell you if I find your compliments... sufficient."
"Then perhaps, Fenris, we might want to move this conversation somewhere a little more suited to complimenting."
"We appear to be of a similar mind, Hawke."
"And you wanted to know why I was still here."