â Iâm certain I could come up with another IMPENDING DOOM to nag about if I tried â
the vial is still cold in his hand, he will NOT yield. For a long time heâs been suspecting that
the Champion does not sleep as she should - however itâs become apparent since taking
up residence in the Amell estate ( he keeps reminding himself to write Surana, ask if sheâs
ever run through these very hallways - probably not, but he likes the thought ).
His arm reaches out, once again, to make another attempt at handing her the vile WITHOUT
FORCE. He is not unfamiliar with terrors of the night, for most of his life heâs struggled against
them himself, and he will be THROWN OUT of this estate before he STOPS INSISTING she
take the potion.
â There is NO LOGIC in this, VANJA, just take the BLODDY POTION before i POUR it down your throat MYSELF.â Â
â I DONâT DOUBT THAT. SOMEHOW you ALWAYS manage
  to make kirkwall seem even GLOOMIER than it ALREADY IS. â
Deep and dark eyes ROLL at the other mage, words said in an aspirated
sigh but not without the TRADEMARK tinge of MOCKERY known to the
champion. Instead of taking FIGHT with the other she moves OUT OF HIS
WAY and sits herself down on the armchair by the dancing fire. She SLUMPS
against the fabric, PRACTICALLY MELTING into the red velvet. They BOTH
KNOW that she will NOT be taking the vial ANY TIME SOON.Â
â Â ANDRASTEâS HOLY NICKERSÂ sit down and BREATHE
  for TWO SECONDS. If you FROWN any more than THAT youâre
  BOUND to break that FACE of yours ----and THEN WHY WOULD
  PEOPLE LIKE YOU? â