Conlan shook his head. He looked down at his mug and thought to take a sip from it, but decided better of the idea.
"It's not indecision that keeps me trapped Vi. It's..." He shifted uncomfortably, despite the soft pillow he leaned against.
"Where would I go that my circumstances would be any different? I could be a mercenary in Orlais, or in the Free Marches, or Ferelden. I'd still wouldn't much. Granted I wouldn't speak the language, and that could lead to wacky hijinks, so there's that. But the kind of life change that would really matter... that kind of dreaming gets a man killed."