Dagna, as it turned out, was surprisingly pleasant to be around. Of course, that was relative as Samson could no more stand her than the rest of the Inquisition, but she made it very hard to dislike her. He bore her prodding and ceaseless questions only because he'd given his word that he'd cooperate. He had nothing left to lose and from the looks of it, nothing to gain either.

She'd been in the middle of interrogating him about his symptoms when the Inquisitor entered the undercroft. She was clad in a deep, midnight blue mage robe, with what looked to be elfroot embroidered on in soft green. He almost laughed. She was such a fucking mage it was a wonder how the Commander didn't flinch every time she blinked.

"Oh, good morning, Inquisitor," Dagna laughed as if she weren't just sticking her fingers in Samson's mouth, checking for abnormalities, "we were just finishing up. You need something?" Hadiza looked somewhat refreshed, as if…Samson did let out a chuckle then, disguised as a cough. Hadiza looked like she was freshly fucked, skin all dewy and eyes too bright for this hour of the morning. So the Commander was putting in extra duties after all. How typical. Cullen got the girl of his dreams despite everything. The man had life handed to him on a silver fucking platter, and Samson got to be a damned experiment for a too-curious dwarf.

He spat to his left, both in disgust and to get the taste of whatever had slicked Dagna's fingers out of his mouth. His insides itched, and his palms were sweating. He hadn't had some of the red shit since the Inquisition took him in, and his appetite was all over the place. He probably smelled like death warmed over too.

And here was the Inquisitor, looking like a fucking queen, descending the staircase gracefully to come to Dagna's side. The dwarf only came up to mid-thigh on her and Samson remembered how long Hadiza's legs were. He'd knelt before the throne, watching her cross them as she thought over what to do with his worthless hide.

"Not yet," she replied to the dwarf, lifting her hand to smooth back an errant lock of hair. The wide sleeve of her robe fell to reveal her arm, which was bruised. Samson made a noise in his throat. He didn't take Cullen for the rough type. The man couldn't even get the word 'brothel' out of his mouth let alone manhandle a woman to ride.

Maybe things had changed.

"Inquisitor!" Dagna looked alarmed. Hadiza glanced at her arm, and then laughed. Samson let that sound wash over his mind. He felt dirty in her presence—he was dirty in her presence. That laugh was too much for him. Did she laugh like that with the Commander? The man wasn't known for his humor.

"I had a training session with Aja yesterday. She's convinced that the only way to get me to improve my shield arm is to beat it to uselessness, evidently." Hadiza waved dismissively, rolling her eyes. Dagna blinked, somewhat relieved. Samson narrowed his eyes.

"Yes, well, I hope you've got room in your pack. Samson may be a sourpuss but I've managed to wring a few master runes out of him for your convenience. You just say the word and I can slap it on anything you like." Dagna beamed and Samson scowled, as if it weren't bad enough they were using his body to create new magical items, now he had to be invisible as well?

"I'm right fuckin' here, dwarf," he growled, "ain't dead yet."

Hadiza finally took it upon herself to look at him. He was healing rather quickly, likely due to the residual red lyrium in his body, and some added healing from the mages she'd sent to his room, but he still hurt in every part of himself. The marrow of his bones felt scraped raw and his blood felt like sludge. And he was exhausted.

"Are you alright?" Hadiza asked and he wanted to spit in her beautiful fucking face. Was he alright?! Certainly she wasn't so clueless as all that to be asking such an inane question. Samson refused to believe the Inquisitor was that daft.

"I mean, your injuries," she amended, likely seeing the look in his bloodshot eyes, "I wanted to apologize to you for the treatment you suffered in the dungeon. While you are my prisoner, I would never condone such abuses." Samson took a pained breath, and spat on the floor between them.

"The lady is too kind," he said cruelly, "to take pity on the poor, misguided prisoner. At least I know it's not the Commander what prompted you to come down here."

There it was, that splendid anger, sterling eyes turning steely as the pupils shrank to points, making them even more startling. Samson wanted her to unleash that anger on him. He didn't know why, but he wanted her to burn him away, end him right there. He had nothing left to live for, anyway. He had not lied when he knelt before her severe-looking throne. He had likely been the only one in the main hall who had been completely honest.

Even Commander Cullen was a liar.

"Do not mistake my common decency for pity." She said coolly, the bite in her voice the only evidence of her anger, "I spared you because the Inquisition's reputation shall not be one known for torturing and abusing those in our custody. You have not yet proved yourself worthy of much else."

Samson gave her a smile, his teeth ached.

"So it wasn't the Commander, after all," he said, "glad it's you running this operation and not him. He'd put anyone to the sword if he had his way. And there'd be not a mage within leagues of this fortress."

His words had the desired effect, even though Hadiza was a master at hiding it. There was a hesitant mood in the air, and something passed behind her quicksilver gaze. Samson wanted to gloat because he knew that look. He wore it often enough in his final days as a Templar.

Doubt.

She knew in some part of herself that he spoke truly. Cullen had yet to prove he was a friend to any mage, and Samson could surmise that she was considering that carefully. Good. He'd not be the only one with a restless mind in the night, not after all he'd been through only to wind up in a Maker-forsaken dungeon.

Hadiza leaned down to murmur to Dagna and the dwarf nodded. As she ascended the steps, Samson only glanced after her once.

"Tried to warn her," Dagna muttered and returned to her table. Samson lay on his spare cot, and thought to himself that the he and the Commander were most assuredly overdue for a nice chat.