[The mention of Hawke pulls Wade back to New Amsterdam, back to untrustworthy coalitions and meals made of insect meat. He thinks of Hawke, of Cassandra, of Lance and Simon and Stephen and especially of Nate. He thinks of his arrival here, of his increasingly desperate search to find any of his friends; of finding Fenris and the disappointment he felt-- almost like a physical pain-- when Fenris once again had no memory of him.
He thinks about how he'd watched Fenris die, watched him plead for the man who enslaved him like a lost and frightened child as his blood pooled in the streets and the life faded from his eyes.
Wade's mouth quirks in an awkward attempt at a disarming smile, and he rolls his shoulders in a shrug he hopes passes as nonchalant.]
Don't really know what I need to be thanked for. I'm just glad you're still here. A-away from whatsisface, I mean.
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He thinks about how he'd watched Fenris die, watched him plead for the man who enslaved him like a lost and frightened child as his blood pooled in the streets and the life faded from his eyes.
Wade's mouth quirks in an awkward attempt at a disarming smile, and he rolls his shoulders in a shrug he hopes passes as nonchalant.]
Don't really know what I need to be thanked for. I'm just glad you're still here. A-away from whatsisface, I mean.