As he and Fenris made their way through Hightown toward the Viscount's Keep, Hawke noticed that they were receiving quite a few odd looks from the nobles they passed on the way. As they neared the Keep, however, it became apparent to Hawke that those looks were not directed to them as a couple, but rather solely at Fenris. If his companion noticed at all, he gave no sign; Hawke, on the other hand, began to feel quite uncomfortable, and wondered if the nobles' scrutiny was because of Fenris's markings, or, more likely, simply because he was an elf.

Whatever the reason, Hawke considered the nobles downright rude, and began to return their stares with a scowl. Fenris eventually noticed this, a wry smile forming on his lips.

"I am accustomed to it," he said quietly. "Do not let it trouble you."

"It doesn't matter whether you're used to it or not," answered Hawke, loudly enough for a passing noble to hear. "It's bloody rude and there's no need for it."

"I am somewhat conspicuous, wouldn't you agree?" asked Fenris.

"I got the same treatment the very first time I came here," said Hawke as they neared the huge iron doors to the Keep. "I was dressed rather shabbily and every one of these bastards looked down their noses at me. Now that I can afford decent clothing and my hair isn't like a bird's nest, I look just like the rest of them. Perhaps it's not a bad thing to be conspicuous; who wants to look the same as everyone else?"

"I am not in need of reassurance, though I appreciate the sentiment," Fenris replied. "Their opinion means nothing to me."

"Well, good," said Hawke as they stopped and waited in line for entrance into the Keep. Soon, they reached the head of the queue, and a bored-looking guard addressed them.

"The Viscount does not see anyone without an appointment," he declared in a weary monotone, as though he'd repeated those word countless times. "To make an appointment, you'll need to talk to Seneschal Bran, and you'll need an appointment to see him, as well."

"No, we're here for Guard-Lieutenant Aveline," Hawke told the guard. "She should be expecting us."

"Name?"

"Hawke."

The guard looked down a scroll and nodded. "Yes, Hawke. What about the elf?"

"The elf can speak for himself, you know," growled Hawke.

"All right," said the guard, holding his hands up. "No need to get snotty with me. What's your business here, Elf?"

"I'm with him," answered Fenris, nodding at Hawke.

The guard glanced at both of them, and then nodded. "All right, you can enter. Don't get causing no trouble, though."

"And just why would we cause trouble?" demanded Hawke, bristling. A small hand touched his back and gently pushed him forward through the doors, and it wasn't until they were inside that Hawke realised that Fenris had actually touched him.

He stopped and glanced at Fenris momentarily before they stepped into the grandly-appointed reception area. Several more nobles and guards were there, and most of the nobles seemed too busy complaining to take much notice of Fenris, which came as a relief to Hawke. At the top of the stairs, an auburn-haired man wearing red clothing looked harassed as several nobles petitioned him for an audience with the Viscount.

"It's this way," Hawke said, pointing to the right-hand set of stairs. They ascended and made their way through several corridors, passing many guards on the way. As they turned a corner, Hawke halted and took a deep breath.

"Is something amiss?" asked Fenris.

"No," Hawke answered immediately. "Well, yes. You see…Aveline and I don't exactly get on," he explained. "I haven't seen her for a while."

"That would explain my presence, then," answered Fenris.

"No, I'm not scared of her or anything," Hawke laughed nervously. "It's just…well, it's complicated." He sighed. "Perhaps I've made it complicated, I don't know…"

"You were involved with her, then?"

"What? No! No…I, erm, well, I-I don't go for women in that way."

Fenris nodded slowly, and neither of them spoke for a moment. "Well, let's get this over with," said Hawke eventually, and they entered the barracks, where several more guards stood around, awaiting assignments.

"There she is." Hawke pointed out a ginger-haired woman who was surrounded by several men as she gave them their orders for the day.

"She is rather tall," observed Fenris.

"Yes, she is." Hawke grinned, and then walked forward, taking a deep breath. "Here goes."

"Hawke," she said upon noticing the two men. "Was beginning to think you wouldn't show." She dismissed the rest of the guards and crossed her arms.

"Aveline," Hawke replied briskly, not quite meeting her eyes.

"Who's your friend?" she asked.

Hawke remained silent and let the elf answer. "Fenris," he said with a nod.

"Good to meet you, Fenris." She jerked her head and led them over to a secluded corner. "You've been making quite a name for yourself, Hawke."

"Have I?" he answered defensively.

"Yes, your name crops up in my reports all the time; the latest being that several slavers were left tied up on the beach for us while their ship burned. You did a good job there, Hawke, although your methods sometimes leave a lot to be desired; it'll cost the city a lot of money to clear the wreckage."

Hawke folded his own arms, his expression hard. "You wanted us for something?"

Aveline lowered her voice. "I've had word of a planned raid tonight. I need to take a few people along and put a stop to this gang; they've been a thorn in our sides for a long time."

"Isn't that what the city Guard is employed for?" asked Fenris, and Hawke nodded in agreement.

Aveline shook her head. "Only a single patrol is deployed along that stretch of the coast as it's normally so quiet, and the captain won't deploy more on the strength of a rumour. I know that something's going down, though, and I intend to put a stop to it. Varric's information has always been solid. Are you in? Once we put a stop to them, there's bound to be a reward."

"All right, Aveline. What time? Where?" asked Hawke.

"Thank you," she replied. "Meet me…well, you spend a lot of time at The Hanged Man, don't you? I'll meet you there at eight bells, and we'll go from there. Just don't get leathered, all right? We'll need to have our wits about us."

Hawke nodded and rolled his eyes. "Eight bells," he repeated as he walked away with Fenris following.

"What is the nature of the animosity between the two of you?" Fenris queried as they made their way out.

Hawke sighed and slowed his pace a little. "I first met her in Lothering; that's where I'm from, in Ferelden. That was when I lost my brother. She lost her husband, as well." Hawke fell silent, and could see from the corner of his eye that Fenris was watching him.

"Was she the cause of your brother's death?" Hawke remained silent, and Fenris noticed a faraway look in his eyes. "I-I should not pry. Forgive me."

"No…" Hawke came to a stop and ran his hand through his hair. "It's all right. I used to think she was responsible, and I used to think I was responsible. I don't know, anymore; maybe it was just one of those things."

The two men continued to walk on, and reached the main reception area. "If I may ask…" ventured Fenris, "how did…"

"An Ogre killed him," answered Hawke. "It just…" He shook his head, the image of Carver's body being smashed upon the ground careering through his mind.

"I cannot imagine how that must have been for you. I am truly sorry," Fenris said quietly.

"Thank you."

"Were you and your brother alike?"

Hawke smiled and snorted softly. "We looked a lot alike. He and Bethany were twins, but the only similarity they shared was their black hair. I was the odd one out; I got this brown, tangled mess, courtesy of my father," he said, pointing to his thick, wavy hair. "I used to think that I was nothing like him, but since he died…it's almost as though the spirit of Carver lives on through me. He was a prickly bastard, as well."

"None of us are perfect," said Fenris.

"I suppose not," Hawke answered with a smile. "Do you…have any plans for this afternoon? Fancy a pint?"

"A pint of what?"

"You are joking, aren't you?" laughed Hawke. "You know, a pint? Of ale?"

"I do not drink ale," replied Fenris. "At least…I don't remember ever drinking it."

"They have wine, as well." Fenris glanced at Hawke and smiled ruefully. "They do decent lunches there, too…if you like stew, that is," Hawke finished.

"You would eat again? We ate less than an hour ago," Fenris pointed out.

"Hey, I'm a growing man!" protested Hawke.

"So you said earlier," Fenris said drily with a glance at Hawke's belly.

Hawke burst out laughing. "You could be right, there! Just an ale, then. Or wine, for you."

"Very well," Fenris accepted with a half-smile, which bloomed into a full one as Hawke continued to laugh. "Just the one."

"Or two," Hawke said very quietly. "And a spot of lunch."

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

Fenris cast a stern glance at Hawke, who started to snigger. Fenris shook his head, unable to completely supress his own smile, and the two of them headed for Lowtown.

~o~O~o~

The Hanged Man was almost full when they arrived back; several traders, and a few guards, were taking lunch. Hawke and Fenris stood at the entrance and, scanning the room, spotted their friends in two different places: a befuddled-looking Anders stood at the bar, flanked by Isabela and Merrill, and Varric and Bethany sat at a small table in a corner, eating.

"I think Varric's table looks safest, wouldn't you agree?" Hawke asked Fenris, who gave a sly nod.

"Hawke!" Anders called out, a hint of desperation in his voice, as they made their way over. "Good to see you, mate!"

"Oh, don't let me interrupt," Hawke said wickedly, and walked over to Varric and Bethany. "Are we intruding?" Hawke asked.

Varric shook his head, unable to answer as he had a mouth full of stew. He gestured to the edge of the table, and Hawke retrieved two chairs from a few that were stacked against the wall.

"Hello, Brother; hello, Fenris," Bethany greeted them as they sat down.

"Good afternoon, Bethany," Fenris politely replied.

Varric swallowed his mouthful, belched, and then apologised to Bethany. "So, how'd it go with Aveline?" he asked lightly. "Were you nice to her, like we agreed?"

"Like you agreed, you mean," answered Hawke. "I was civil to her."

"Guess that's better than nothing," muttered Varric.

"She's meeting us here, tonight, at about eight. Fenris has very kindly volunteered to assist…"

"More like I was volunteered by Hawke," Fenris cut in, "but yes, I agreed."

Varric laughed as Hawke gave Fenris a mock-sour look, and he and Bethany exchanged a glance. "Sounds about right, to me. Will the two of you be enough? Daisy said she'd be happy to tag along with us."

"Well, we'll have Aveline with us, so we should be fine." Hawke was pleased that he and Fenris seemed to be getting along well, and didn't want that spoiled by the presence of a blood mage when they did the job with Aveline; a known blood mage, anyway. He glanced behind his shoulder to where Anders was standing with the two women. "Anders looks a bit bewildered; is he all right?"

Again, Varric laughed, along with Bethany. "He was a little snooty toward Daisy when the girls brought her back here, but the Rivaini was having none of it; she's practically forced the poor sap to talk to her. When we left them, they were giving him tips on styling his hair."

Hawke creased over with laughter, and then, feeling pity for his friend, wiped a tear from his eye and sat up. "The poor sod. I suppose I'd better rescue him. What are you having, Fenris?"

Fenris reached into a pocket in his breeches. "I will pay," he insisted.

Hawke waved his hand dismissively. "You can get the next round. What do you want, wine? Or do you fancy trying the ale?"

Fenris considered this for a moment. "Perhaps I will try the ale, for a change."

"Good man," said Hawke. "Varric? Any recommendations for beginners?"

"New to ale, huh?" asked Varric. "Hmm…well, you don't wanna drink this crap," he said, pointing to his tankard. "It's a little rough. Sunshine, what's that stuff you drink?"

"This is golden bitter," she answered. "It's quite smooth, and you couldn't really get drunk on it, not unless you drank a whole keg of it. Would you like to try some?" she asked Fenris. "That way, if you don't like it, you won't have wasted any money."

"Erm, thank you," Fenris replied diffidently as Bethany pushed her tankard over to him. As he raised it to his lips, three pairs of eyes were fixed upon him, and he paused.

"Come on, now; don't crowd the man," Hawke remonstrated good-naturedly.

Fenris took a sip and his eyes fell to the table, as though considering the flavour. He then took another, and set the tankard down.

"Well?" asked Varric.

Fenris continued to stare at the table, and did not answer. "Elf?" Varric prompted, and looked at Hawke. "Either he really hates it, or it's so good he's lost for words."

"Fenris?" asked Hawke softly. "Are you…"

"I-I must go," Fenris said quickly, pushing himself up. "Thank you for the drink," he said to Bethany, and turned, heading for the exit without another word.

"What's gotten into him, Hawke?" demanded Varric.

"Maybe you should go after him, Brother," Bethany suggested.

Hawke hesitated for a moment, feeling his gut tighten. "Erm, yes, all right," he mumbled, and rose from his chair. "I'll be back in a bit."

"Hawke!" Anders called out to him as he walked past, and Hawke held his hand up, indicating he would be back soon. Stepping outside, he glanced around; Fenris was nowhere to be seen. He broke into a jog and headed for the steps leading to Hightown, cursing his lack of physical fitness as he began to climb them. After what seemed like hundreds of steps, he spotted Fenris, who was way ahead and taking the steps two at a time.

"Fenris!" he called breathlessly, to no answer. "Fenris, please! If I have to run up these steps after you, I'll drop down dead!"

Mercifully, Fenris stopped, slowly turned around and began to walk down the steps toward Hawke.

"Thank you!" gasped Hawke, sitting down on the small wall that ran alongside the steps.

"Are you all right?" Fenris asked.

"Yes, I will be, in a minute." Hawke panted, clutching at his side. "What's wrong, Fenris? Why did you leave so suddenly?"

For a moment, Fenris didn't answer, and eventually sat on the wall a few feet away from Hawke. "There is no excuse for my rudeness. I hope I did not offend your sister."

"No, you didn't; she was concerned about you, as am I."

Fenris nodded and closed his eyes, his shoulders sagging beneath an invisible weight. He opened his eyes and looked straight ahead, a pained expression on his face.

"That…wasn't the first time you've tried ale, was it?" Hawke guessed.

"I-I don't know," answered Fenris, his voice barely a whisper. "It…something…I-I…it is difficult to explain."

"Try," Hawke implored.

Fenris shifted a little and turned slightly toward Hawke, but didn't look at him. "I…heard music, and laughter. I saw…no, it is gone. I saw someone, but…"

"You remember someone?" asked Hawke. "Try to think! Was it a man or a woman? Dark hair, light hair? Elf, human, dwarf?"

Fenris shook his head sadly. "It's gone…it was there for a second, but now…there is nothing."

"Fenris," said Hawke, "this means that you are capable of remembering! This is a very important moment for you!"

"But I don't remember now," Fenris said, his voice breaking, and Hawke looked at him, appalled.

"Fenris…come back to the Hanged Man with me. Try a bit more ale; it may help you to remember more."

"No!" he replied abruptly, standing up, his hand slicing through the air. "I will not be a subject of pity or ridicule to you and your friends."

Hawke also stood up. "My friends…our friends are not like that. And anyone who would dare to ridicule you will answer to me," he said fiercely.

A bitter laugh escaped Fenris's lips. "You have a stout heart, I'll give you that." He shook his head. "I will continue to work with you, but you should not pursue friendship with me. You have tried, and I am grateful for that, but I have been alone for three years, and perhaps that is for the best. I-I do not know how to function around other people. I will only cause offence."

"Don't you dare," growled Hawke. "If you think pushing me away is going to work, then you know nothing about me. Whether you like it or not, I'm your friend, now. You can feel sorry for yourself and drink yourself to oblivion all you like, but I am still going to be there to clean you up in the morning. I almost destroyed myself once, and I won't see the same happen to you."

Fenris stepped back, aware that Hawke was standing very close to him. He nodded and stared at the steps.

"Fenris," Hawke said, his voice softer. "I've been there; all right, I haven't lived your life and I can't claim to know what you've been through, but I've been in a very lonely place a couple of times in my life, and I always had other people who were there for me. Without them…I would have cracked up. I can't force you to be my friend, but the demons that come in the middle of the night seem to have less power when you know there will be someone there for you in the morning. I speak from experience, trust me."

Despite the bustle of the people around them, a silence seemed to settle over the two men, removing them from everything else. Fenris slowly looked up and nodded again, and, as he met Hawke's eyes, Hawke's gut twisted.

"I will consider your words," said Fenris quietly. "For now, though, I wish to be alone."

"Are you going back to the mansion?"

"Yes."

"Will you promise me something?" Hawke requested.

"That depends."

"Promise me you won't get drunk."

Fenris blinked several times and took a deep breath, releasing it in a ragged burst. "I promise, Hawke."

"All right, I'll take you at your word. I'll see you tonight, at eight bells?"

"Yes," Fenris replied, and once again began to ascend the steps.

"Fenris," called Hawke, and the elf stopped, turning slightly. "If you're not there, I'll come looking for you."

Fenris nodded once, and Hawke sat back down on the wall, watching him until he was out of sight. He stayed there for a while, picking at his fingernails, until his stomach started to growl. He rose with difficulty, feeling a heaviness he was unaccustomed to, and wearily plodded down the steps.

When he arrived back at The Hanged Man, Isabela was waiting outside, hands on hips. "Was that the elf?" she demanded. "Why didn't you introduce us? I told you I like elves!"

Hawke shook his head and walked past her.

"Hey! I'm talking to you, Mister!" she continued as they both entered the pub. As soon as they walked into the lounge, Hawke was besieged by several people all at once.

"Where have you been? I need rescuing!" exclaimed Anders, as Merrill skipped up to Hawke.

"Ooh, Hawke! I'm going out tonight with some of the others, and we're going to clobber some thugs!" she sang. "I'm so excited, I feel like I'm going to pop!"

"Hawke," called Varric , who was leaning over a table talking with a well-known group of mercenaries. "We may have some business coming our way, soon."

"What about the elf?" Isabela exhorted. "When do I get to meet him?"

Then, like an angel sent from the Maker, Bethany pushed through and took Hawke's hand, leading him around the back of the pub and to Varric's room. She removed a cord from around her neck upon which hung a key, which she used to unlock the door, and they entered, their friends' protestations ringing in Hawke's ears.

"Thank you, Sister," said Hawke, closing the door, and then one of his eyebrows shot up. "Wait…you have a key to Varric's room?"

"Now, now, Brother; it's nothing sordid. Varric said I could use his room anytime I like, when he's not here. Sometimes I need a little break from home, especially when Gamlen starts, or when Mother is very down. I know that sounds selfish, but…"

"No, no it doesn't," Hawke said, concerned. "I'm sorry, Beth; I didn't realise things were getting to you so much."

"I'm fine, Brother," she reassured him with a shrug. "I know things get on top of you sometimes, and I have my moments as well. Sometimes I come here for a little cry. I don't want Mother to see that."

"Oh, Beth…" Hawke wrapped his arms around his sister and pulled her close; she snaked her arms around his waist and laid her head against his shoulder. "I'm so sorry. I get so bloody wrapped up in myself sometimes. It's not fair; he was your twin, after all."

"I'm all right, Fletcher; sometimes I just get homesick and I remember when we were all together, and I feel sad." She pulled away and looked up at him. "I'm a lot better than I used to be, though. Varric's a good man, you know; I cried in front of him once, and he didn't panic, or run away. He made me laugh," she said, smiling.

Hawke returned her smile and kissed the tip of her nose. "I'm very glad you have Varric; he is a good man. Just…don't be afraid to talk to me, all right? I know I'm not at home much, and I'm usually out gallivanting or getting drunk, but I'm always here for you, you know that, don't you?"

"I know, Brother," she replied, and hugged him again.

"So…" said Hawke, stroking her hair. "How are things with Varric?"

She broke the hug and placed her hands on her hips. "If you're after salacious details, you'll be disappointed."

"I didn't mean that!" he protested. "I'm just curious, that's all. I am your big brother; it's my job."

She shrugged her shoulders and giggled. "Well…we have kissed a few times, and sometimes we hold hands under the table. He's never tried anything, though," she said emphatically. "I-I have wondered, though…I mean, the time will come, won't it?" She sighed. "I'm sorry; perhaps I should be talking to Mother about this."

"No, I said you could talk to me about anything and I meant it. Look, Beth, you're a grown woman. I'm not going to demand honour if he touches a hair on your head or anything like that. Just be careful, that's all."

"I know," she answered. "I just…I'm not sure what to do when the time comes."

"You'll figure it out," replied Hawke. "Look," he said in a whisper. "This is a serious offer. If you like, I'll take you to The Blooming Rose one of the nights; some of the older women there can give you some…tips. I know them; they'll be happy to impart their wisdom. It might be preferable to an awkward conversation with Mother."

"Oh, I don't know, Fletcher," she mumbled. "Isabela has already offered…"

"Stop right there," Hawke commanded, holding his hand up. "I do not want you getting advice on sex from Isabela. She'll be teaching you to run before you can walk. Leave it with me; I'll sort something out, all right?"

"All right, Brother," she answered, and cleared her throat. "Did you find Fenris? Is he all right?"

"Yes, I found him," Hawke answered, turning away from her.

"Why did he run off like that?"

"This is between us, all right?" Bethany nodded as Hawke turned back to her. "He has no memory of his life before he received the lyrium markings. That was three-and-a-half years ago. I think tasting the ale brought some distant memory back to him. He was quite distressed."

"Oh, Brother, how awful for him!" She covered her mouth with her hands and paced the room.

"I think he's a very private man, so I don't want anyone else knowing about this."

"I promise; I won't even tell Varric." She removed her hands from her mouth. "He told you though, didn't he? Perhaps he trusts you?"

"I don't know." Hawke moved over to the small armchair next to the fireplace and sat down, staring at the floor, his hands clasped in his lap.

"Where is he now?" asked Bethany.

"He's gone back to the mansion. I didn't want to let him go on his own, but he wanted to be alone. I hope he'll be all right."

Bethany sat down on Varric's bed and watched her brother, inclining her head to one side. "You care about him, don't you, Fletcher?"

Hawke continued to stare at the floor, and groaned. "Maker, Beth, I…"

"What?"

"Nothing, it doesn't matter," he replied quickly, standing up. "I'm going to see if there's any stew left."

"Why don't you stay here, and I'll fetch you some," offered Bethany, rising from the bed.

"Thanks, Sister," he replied with a thin smile. "Send Anders in, would you? Looks like he could do with some respite, as well."

"I will," she promised, and Hawke blew her a kiss as she left.

~o~O~o~

Later that evening, Hawke sat at a table in the pub, staring at the door, only blinking when his eyes started to hurt. Varric, Anders, Isabela and Merrill had already left for the chantry. Fenris and Aveline were late.

"What time is it?" he asked Norah, one of the barmaids, as she passed by.

"You asked me that five minutes ago," she replied. "It's five minutes later; getting on for nine bells."

Hawke harrumphed and rested his face on his fists, his eyes not leaving the door. Where were they? He couldn't give a fig for Aveline, but his imagination was running riot over Fenris. Had he broken his promise and got slaughtered on wine? Had he fallen down the steps? Had…had Danarius-

He shot up out of his chair just as the door opened, and Aveline strolled in, massaging her brow.

"Where have you been?" Hawke barked at her. "I've been waiting here for almost an hour!"

"You don't need to bite my head off, Hawke," she retorted. "I was held up at the barracks, all right? I just need a quick bracer, and then we can set off."

Hawke stomped toward the entrance. "Knock yourself out; I'm going to look for Fenris."

"Fenris? You mean your friend from earlier?"

Hawke stopped dead. "Yes…"

"He's outside," Aveline said with a casual nod toward the door.

"He…he's what?"

"I've just spoken to him. He said he popped his head around the door earlier, but didn't see you. I think he was trying to avoid your friends, actually; they seem a rowdy bunch to me."

"Do they, now?"

Ignoring him, Aveline turned toward the bar and ordered herself a drink.

"Maker's balls!" Hawke muttered, feeling a headache bloom inside his skull. As his heart raced in his chest, he took a few deep breaths, and stepped outside. Sure enough, Fenris was waiting, standing next to a pile of barrels.

"Hawke," he said with a nod. "I did not realise you were inside."

"I've been in there for ages," replied Hawke, his head falling back as a sigh escaped his lips. "I must have been…indisposed when you called in."

"That is a polite way of putting it," Fenris quipped, his face expressionless.

Hawke relaxed a little, and ventured a few steps closer to Fenris. "How are you feeling?"

"I am well, although…you appear a little…unsettled."

"No, I'm fine," sighed Hawke. "Do you want to come in for a bit? Aveline's having a drink before we go."

Fenris shifted from foot to foot.

"The others have gone, you know," Hawke said quietly. "There's nobody in there from earlier on, if that's what you're worried about."

Fenris glanced at Hawke briefly, and nodded in acceptance.

"Good," replied Hawke. "Take the weight off your feet for a bit. Do they get sore? I've been meaning to ask you."

"Not anymore, no." Fenris stood awkwardly, and Hawke realised that he was blocking the entrance; Fenris would have to squeeze past him to enter.

Hawke opened the door, and Fenris followed. "Well, whether they get sore or not, we have a bloody long walk ahead of us; it'll do us good to sit down for a bit."

"And it will do you good to take a long walk," remarked Fenris, and Hawke turned around, just in time to see a grin disappear from Fenris's face.

"Well, now I know we're friends," Hawke answered. "Only friends can insult one another with impunity."

"I was not insulting you," Fenris claimed as they sat down. "I was merely dispensing advice."

Hawke narrowed his eyes and regarded Fenris carefully, looking for a hint of a smile; he found none. "I never know if you're joking or not."

"You don't, do you?" Fenris answered, and this time, a tiny hint of mirth flickered in his eyes, and, as Hawke grinned at him, one of the edges of his mouth turned upward.

Then, they both laughed.