I don't believe it. I do not believe it. I have a family. I have a family. With kids, and everything. There's three of them. Or maybe five. But three who are here. And they're terrific. One of them's clearly his mother's boy, he's got her eyes and his brow furrows exactly the same way when he's concentrating, and one of them's got my sense of humor and knack for finding all the wrong things funny, and the third one has to be the most adorable kid in the world.
I can't believe this is my life. How did I get this lucky? If there were a Chantry handy, I'd go sing hymns to the Maker. Well, I maybe not sing, wouldn't want to hurt His ears with my off-key warbling. I'll find something.
Varric, thanks to you and all of yours for keeping a roof over their heads when they got here. I owe you one. I keep owing you one and then never paying you back and instead coming over to eat all of Esmerelda's pancakes, but you know what I mean.
No, I'm not going to stop babbling, why do you ask?
Were you serious about maybe getting a place for all of us?