[Hawke squeezes her hand affectionately for a moment, then slowly brings it up to his chest. He guides her fingers beneath the neck of his shirt, to a scar on his upper left shoulder. A little puckered thing, round but jagged on the edges.]

Have you ever noticed this before? About two years ago, I was traveling across Nevarra and I came across a band of mercs. Bounty hunters. They chased me down and I barely got away, and took an arrow through the shoulder for my trouble. Sticking all the way through. It was awful.

[This sure seems like he's changed the subject...]

I got away, staggered to a cave, and did my best to mend it. Pulled out the arrow, tore up my shirt for a bandage. But it was too rough to heal with magic, and I was low on supplies. It got infected and I laid in that cave for a week, fighting off a fever, delirious from the pain.