"I don't know," he drawls, before walking over to her and parking his ass on the chair by the bed. "City full of blood-magic-paranoid templars, and the biggest non-mage pain in the ass gets turned into a bloodsucker? As an author, I can appreciate the grand irony."

Still, he looks at her. Varric can accept a lot of things, but losing Hawke isn't one of them.