Nights
I follow Hawke home from the Hanged Man. She's had a few too many pints. She walks with assurance and a steady pace, but I can tell she's not entirely sober.
It's been a month since we found Leandra with the necromancer Quentin. I can tell she is not alright.
That night I tried to comfort her, but no one can heal a wound that deep overnight. I held her close that night and left before dawn.
She puts on a brave face during the day. She laughs at Varric's jokes and smiles with Isabela and Merrill. But come the night, I can see the pain she's in.
I know about pain.
I know about pride too.
Sometimes pride is the only thing keeping you together. Sometimes pride is all you have to cling to. Sometimes pride is the cave you can hide in to lick your wounds.
So I follow her home. I leave a few minutes after she does. I don't say a word. I keep to the shadows and let the night keep our secrets.