"Ugh."
Anders leaned against the cave wall, ignoring what creepy crawlies and filth he was getting in his hair. He wrinkled his nose. Or what was already in his hair. Hawke had disappeared with Isabela, checking for traps and abandoned valuables.
"I don't suppose anyone has any lyrium?" he called,
He winced, immediately regretting the question as his gaze landed on Fenris just ahead of him, who had stayed put in case any giant spiders, or worse decided a lone delicate mage flower would be the perfect tasty snack—at least Anders's Grey Warden senses weren't tingling. The elf looked at him, eyes not quite as vitriolic as Anders might have expected. He cleared his throat and looked away quickly.
"Actually," that deep voice drawled.
Anders looked at him, a small vial of blue liquid carefully held in his clawed gauntlet.
"Oh," he said, honey-brown eyes going a bit wide.
He reached for it but Fenris moved his hand away, a gut-tightening smirk curving his mouth. Anders stared at him not sure what game Fenris was playing with him. A cruel one most likely.
"What—"
"You forgot to say the magic word."