.ii.
Hawke helps people, it is simply what she does. In a way, she feels it was what she was always meant for, and her name is proof of that. Aleka Hawke: helper of man. She befriends an ex-pirate captain, a Dalish blood mage, a possessed apostate Grey Warden, a talented tale telling dwarf, an exiled prince, a guard captain named after a chevalier, and a Tevinter fugitive all because each in turn had asked for her help. Helping people, she believes, is her Maker given duty.
So of course she thinks nothing suspicious of the note she finds resting atop her desk, just after evening meal, folded twice over, as if to keep it from prying eyes. She does not question the familiar writing on the page, harried but concise, Anders' scrawl requesting help so late at night, or the fact that this note has appeared on her desk with no means of delivery in sight. She does wonder if he needs more help with making that potion that is supposed to separate him from the spirit of Justice currently residing rent free in his head, or perhaps he has finally decided to trust her with the lesser known machinations of the mage underground he runs.
She doesn't bother hunting down Bodahn, wherever he is, to tell him she's headed to the Docks, only telling Sandal when he inquires, "Enchantment?" as she head to the door. She doesn't know that the note she left sitting open on her desk spontaneously combusts, going up in strange green blue flames not moments after she has left the estate, and doesn't know that Sandal happily claps in awe as it burns and leaves nothing but fine ash. She doesn't spare a thought as she heads to the Docks, armored robes swaying behind her, staff bouncing, shivering in the chill of the night.