Varric's eyebrows shot up somewhere near his hairline. "Last I checked, Warden Sunshine, being overtired and fresh out of spare shits to give is far from impossible."

It was a kindness, something to spare the conversation from the fairy-tale impossibility Bethany was clearly thinking of. And, honestly, the far more likely answer. Being a Grey Warden had changed the younger Hawke; the eternal ray of sunshine had hardened somewhat into a sharper, edged, slightly bitter woman. Varric was far from surprised to hear her unable to shroud harsh reality in a fluffy cloud of bullshit.