There was something about her story. A woman from Denerim, based out of the chantry, all of it seemed very familiar. If Conlan had been inclined, he would have thought about it, and likely would have remembered Dee. Though he wasn't entirely inclined to think about the past.
Con looked toward the list he'd been compiling. He let out a sigh, the damn thing was too sentimental, and foolish, and he couldn't even write it. But he couldn't bring himself to crumple it up and throw it away. He looked back toward Dee and shook his head.
"I'm a mercenary. I was conscripted from a Denerim prison cell. And before you ask, I was there because I was hired to guard some goods that turned out to be stolen." He shrugged slightly, and rolled his shoulders